Anxiety Day
by botherer on Jul.24, 2005, under The Rest
Today has been Anxiety Day.
It’s been a while since I’ve had one this intense – obviously with anxiety disorder (it’s so great to have a disorder – if you don’t have one, you really do, you’ve just not identified it yet) there’s the general lunatic worrying accompanying every waking moment – but today has been a day when it’s all bubbled over the surface.
It’s been an odd week. Lots of stuff. The reaction to that shooting really upset me as well – especially seeing the hateful comments even here. While I’ve had really valuable conversations with people about why they believe the policemen’s actions to be justified, those have been with people of the decency and intelligence to not dismiss a human life away because he didn’t react perfectly in a moment of panic. Watching a nation compromise reality down until a baggy coat is a valid death warrant depresses me greatly. Hearing the vocabulary of the nation take on the vocabulary of those who attack is devastating. The Sun’s headline yesterday (below) really hurt me – such a vicious, hateful and utterly despicable comment to make even were the dead man a terrorist. That he was not I hope will hasten Rebecka Wade’s long-necessary resignation. The headline from the Express, however, is the one that’s worried me far more. The words “[they shall] be shown no mercy” are the words of Al Quaeda. And there they are, on the front pages of our newspapers. As the police shoot to kill those who intend to kill, our vocabulary becomes that of those from whom we wish to distinguish ourselves. I wish that ours was a response of mercy. I wish our papers proudly boasted, “They shall be shown mercy.”
Anxiety Day (back there again) makes every conversation ludicrous. No matter the subject, I can’t say anything without deciding that it’s been misinterpreted, and then apologising for the possible misinterpretation, which of course didn’t happen. Which then confuses the person to whom I’m talking no end, and leaves me trying to explain what I meant, which is very much like trying to untangle a spilled pool of wool with an angry cat. I become so entangled in what I’ve said, what I’ve not said, what I think the other person might think I’ve said, what I’m sure I should have said that would have made it understood and if I say it now maybe it will be so I do but out loud it turns out to be possibly the stupidest thing I could possibly say and now I have to try and explain why I said that and what it was I thought they might have thought I said in the first place and how I then thought that that meant that they thought that I thought that they thought I had said the opposite of what I meant and so I say again what I originally meant but it still doesn’t make sense because it’s the product of anxiety and not rational thought that can be articulated out loud to someone else and so I apologise for it and worry about how I’m going to say all of that…
That’s the inside of my head.
Apologies and thank you if you’re one of those who has encountered me today.
Eye Witness
by botherer on Jul.24, 2005, under Rants
The page the BBC have stopped linking to now.
“As [the suspect] got onto the train I looked at his face, he looked sort of left and right, but he basically looked like a cornered rabbit, a cornered fox. He looked absolutely petrified and then he sort of tripped, but they were hotly pursuing him, [they] couldn’t have been any more than two or three feet behind him at this time and he half tripped and was half pushed to the floor and the policeman nearest to me had the black automatic pistol in his left hand. He held it down to the guy and unloaded five shots into him.”
“Everyone who was on the platform was just running from one end of the platform down to the exit as quickly as possible.”
Q&A
by botherer on Jul.24, 2005, under Rants
Scotland Yard has admitted that a man shot dead by police hunting the bombers behind Thursday’s London attacks was unconnected to the incidents.
Botherer Blog correspondents Gordon Nocareera and James Hardly look at the implications.
Q: Will this have an effect on attempts to foster good community relations?
It has been speculated in some places that the police’s shooting at innocent people can do some damage to positive community relations. Some people have expressed concern about the decision to shoot at the vaguely Asian looking man, with Muslim leaders implying that a “shoot-to-kill-foreigners” policy can have detrimental effects on public relations. Of course, this doesn’t take into account the effect a killing has on the size of a community, reducing the real-term numbers of individuals with which poor relations can be had.
Q: What impact will it have on the way the police investigate into the bombings?
Of course, primarily it makes the hunt for the bombers easier, as there is now one less person to choose from. The situation is now more tense than in previous years, with the recent suicide bombings calling for a review of the more traditional “Ask questions, have a trial, shoot later” policy.
Q: Are we sure police officers were responsible for the shooting, and what is their policy in such cases?
While the police did chase the unarmed innocent man onto the tube train, cornering him and piling onto him to ensure he was incapacitated, it’s not clear which one it was that did the shooting. For a number of years the police have been looking at which tactics can be used in the eventuality of suicide bombers operating in the UK, and it is a very difficult thing to cope with, but sitting on people before emptying a gun into their head has so far proven to prevent any repeat offenses, guilty or innocent.
Q: Does the shooting represent a setback for Prime Minister Tony Blair?
Tony Blair is content to let the police cover the story up without his help, allowing them to investigate themselves in the traditional manner. Mr Blair has asked that the public remain scared, and added that if any members of the public see any policemen acting suspiciously, to alert the nearest someone else.
Boston Tea Party, Bristol: Toilet Graffiti
by botherer on Jul.23, 2005, under Photos
Men’s toilet in Boston Tea Party Bristol, second cubicle:
Bombings: A Tribute
by botherer on Jul.21, 2005, under Rants
Marking the two week anniversary of the London bombings of the 7th July, a series of small pretend explosions have been detonated on the capital’s tube network in honour of the tragedy’s victims.
Met Police chief Sir Ian Blair said, “It’s a delightful tribute”, adding that the entire transport network of London would be shut down as an act of respect.
“I was on the train to Warren St,” said commuter Tom Brimwell, “but I got off at the previous stop for some reason or other. I find when I get some smoke it my eyes it can sting quite badly – I’m just so glad I didn’t have to see that bag pop open a bit.”
A bus has even had its windows blown out, making sure that the road’s public transport isn’t forgotten in this special event, sponsored by Pack-a-Whack Backpacks. Members of the IRA, Al Quaeda and ETA joined Tony Blair and mayor Ken Livingstone for an informal meal, before going out for a dance.
A fifteen second silence is being organised for Monday lunchtime, 12.00 to 12.00.15.
Gaps In Bath
by botherer on Jul.19, 2005, under Photos
Inspired by Stuart’s recent photographic spree, and then in turn by AK’s spoof, I’ve finally taken some pictures of the thing I walk past every day, and always mean to photograph.
I love these steps that disappear up alleyways on Walcot St.
And I love these ones too. There’s one more set to get today.
Then there’s this peculiar alcove that seems to have no reason to exist, but grows the most beautiful weeds.
And finally, there’s my favourite building – this mysteriously shaped and placed… thing, on Margaret’s Hill, just before my road.
Exeter Holiday
by John Walker on Jul.11, 2005, under Photos
I have recently returned from an oh-so splendid holiday, spent in the tropical climes of somewhere between Exeter and Torquay. Yes, I know – I am so cool.
I went with the lovely Jo Dolby to stay in a friend’s… well, we thought it was a cottage. It turns out, the incredibly generous Stam family allowed us to use their five bedroom, three bathroom, palace.
So that was a flipping fantastic surprise. There were two big gardens, some stables, and a field. And best of all, a strange man who lived in the garage.
I can’t really remember what order everything happened in, except that Sian and Rich joined us on Saturday as it was Sian’s birthday, so I know Saturday things happened then. There’s a day’s worth of pictures missing after I left my camera at the palace, so we’re waiting for the disposable camera pictures to come back. Tales of The Most Boring Castle In The World, and climbing Becky Falls in bare feet shall have to wait.
Despite appearances, I do like to be besides the seaside. (Which is conveniently located besides the sea).
Jo demonstrated a more impressive level of enthusiasm.
I shall wait until the other pictures are back to tell the tales. So meanwhile click on any of the pictures above to see the whole lot. And don’t go posting them on gaming forums this year, you weird stalking freaks.
However, what cannot wait is this picture of Richard Wand, naked, swimming in the amazing cove we found in Babbacombe Bay. I did no such thing – I have far too much dignity than to go swimming naked with Sian’s boyfriend at night time in the freezing sea in front of a scared looking fisherman. I kept my boxers on. And frankly, the world should be grateful. Stripped bare, I look like the bastard offspring of a woolly jumper and a binbag full of custard.
More soon.
Decomposing Muisc
by John Walker on Jul.11, 2005, under The Rest
I’m going through one of my 3WK phases again. It’s an internet underground radio station, that acts as my joint-leading source for discovering new music. (The other is Matthew George via ICQ. Kieron, you’ve slipped into a poor second place – tsk). The joy of the station is the constant necessity to task-switch from whatever I’m doing to see the name of the band currently playing, and make note of it in a permanently open Notepad window for future seekage. Today I have already listed:
decomposure / disconnect / at home and unaffected / unschooled
bottom of the hudson / father green / songs from the barrel commando / happy home
sufjan stevens / chicago / illinois / asthmatic kitty
And it’s only just gone 11am.
I hoover up new bands with an insatiable greed, and broad remit. 3WK is an excellent means to discover such newness (and also excellent people, fighting hard against the despicable DMCA rulings that make hosting such a station near-impossible – it’s only a meagre $10 a month for the pleasure of the high-bandwidth connection), broadcasting bands under the meaningless label of “indie”, which is a shorthand way of saying, “not playing the same old plastic-coated shit you hear everywhere else”. So in an hour you can discover eight new bands whose albums are now required if life is to remain liveable, and also that the new System of a Down stuff is quite extraordinary and actually does deserve to be on the station despite your initial “what on earth are they doing playing that“, while every Elliot Smith track you’ve ever heard is remarkable and it sucks that he’s dead and how come you only own Figure 8?
The other great pleasure is following the links to band’s sites. The air is so much fresher outside of the Big 4’s strongest influence. Wanting to learn more about the best girl-noise I’ve heard in forever, I discovered that Dixie Dirt are giving away their first album for free download. So pleased was I that I bought their new album for 8 pounds (anyone know why WordPress can’t cope with pound signs?) via their site. This is how it should and does work.
One of the musicians in this morning’s collection, Decomposure, has given me an extra treat – a term for describing the sorts of Christians who make me want to investigate genocide: “opposite-day Christianity”.
From the song ‘Disconnected’:
The Jesus i know had a nice home filled with stuff he worked hard to own
The Jesus i know saw those alone and sad and turned them out into the cold
The Jesus i know put business over spirit and soul – buy more, there’s no such thing as too much greed
The Jesus i know lobbied the government so his teachings could be enforced properly
i’ve got a line direct to heaven that sends me all i need
and there’s no disconnect, i’m always right because i’ve got god with me
your words have no effect, i’m better and it’s clear to see
you’ve got a twig stuck in your eye, the god i know is on my side
again.
In response to some reviewers’ accusations that the song is anti-Christian, he writes:
“I’m a Christian. i’m not going to say too much about the tenets of what i believe, or even attempt to justify to you why i believe it, but i do believe it, even the crazy stuff that might sound like unicorns and wizards. And no, believing one thing that seems irrational does not automatically make me talk to my toes or push a baby carriage full of soup cans and cheerily doff a dead cat to other nervous pedestrians. Like almost everything, it’s something with a lot of components that i’ll probably never figure out completely, never mind implement perfectly, and what i’ve got is hard to sum up in a couple sentences without overgeneralizing.”
I like that. More importantly, the music is experimental and interesting. And furthermore, in the post.
Umbrellas
by John Walker on Jul.06, 2005, under Rants
A number of people have mentioned to me recently that they perceive a tone of intolerance on this blog. This concerns me deeply, as I am the most happiest, fun-loving person going, and that these morons could think something so astonishingly rude really does sadden me.
Anyway, that aside, today I wish to condemn all owners of umbrellas to eternal torment.
I don’t call them “umbrellas”. I call them “Nine Pointed Death Stars”. And I am now firmly of the belief that possessing one without first attaining a Nine Pointed Death Star Licence should be an imprisonable offense.
The moment the tiniest droplet of rain is titrated from a cloud, up swoosh these ridiculously huge, and hugely dangerous weapons, endangering anyone who has managed the self-awareness to recognise that they are waterproof. Dodging the genuinely harmful metal spikes that begin spinning down all sides of the streets is like something from a Tomb Raider game, except without the medpacks and calming slaughter of endangered species. If someone were weilding anything else of that size and lethality, they would be immediately arrested.
I’m not arguing for them to be banned. I’m a reasonable person. I’m arguing that everyone should have to attend lessons and complete an examination before being allowed to weild one.
However, golfing umbrellas are quite another matter. What on earth is going on with those? Fifty percent of the death stars on the streets of Bath are now these vast, marquee-like weapons of mass destruction. HOW WIDE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I’ll tell you – it’s shoulder-width. You do not need a golfing umbrella. Guess what they’re for? There’s a clue in the title. Go on, see if you can.
Banned. Absolutely banned. The punishment for carrying on is to be dropped from roof height, legs apart, onto it, which will them be unceremonously opened.
Off on holiday for the rest of the week. Be happy.
Recent Events
by John Walker on Jul.02, 2005, under Photos
The last couple of weeks have been a frenzied trek about the country for all manner of exciting adventures.
Things began, um, a while back with Nick’s “Pre Wedding Jaunt”, and not in any way, “Stag Do”. This took place in Edinburgh for the weekend, where ten of Britain’s loudest men gathered to bellow discussions at one another and the people of Scotland. While the majority of the time was quite civilised, a token nod to the wretchedness of stag culture appeared in the form of a surprise game of paintballing. Oh, what joy.
“Why? Because it really bloody hurts when they hit you, that’s why. It’s a stupid, mindless, ridiculous activity where idiotic men deliberately hurt one another in a miserable, muddy wood.”
“But it’s meant to hurt. That gives you the incentive to avoid being hit.”
“Yes, and the most effective way to avoid being hit is, TO NOT GO PAINTBALLING.”
It was, as expected, awful. Our desired plan of splitting into two teams of five – Team Jew, and Team Gentile – were immediately evaporated when lumped in with two other stag gatherings, each sharing a combined IQ of about 7, and fewer chromosomes. These sub-human primordial oozes ensured that at no point could anything approaching ‘fun’ be achieved, too achingly stupid to comprehend the simplest of instructions. “Hold you gun by the wire,” shouted the staff. “THE WIRE.” “NO! THE WIRE!” Until eventually the marshalls had to actually take the guns from their hands, turn them around, and then put them back into their primitive, barely prehensile hands wire first. This became far worse when it came to understanding the instruction, “Don’t shoot your gun after the game over.”
I was hit three times. Once in the back of my head, another time in the middle of my back (please note I was facing forward), and a final time in the shoulder, while walking back to the base, after the game over. Adam still bears the mark on his neck where he was hit post-game.
It’s hard to say whether all that was worth it to see this, but it was certainly close.
Then there was the college residential in Cheltenham. Two days of lying around in the sun with lovely people. Well earned.
Then the final weekend of youth work, already documented.
And Thursday, Nick and Victoria’s wedding. That’s no small statement. I take full credit for the whole relationship, for reasons that are too boring to chronicle again. But let it suffice to say, they owe me everything, including the 60 pounds for the supposedly free hotel room on Thursday night.
