The Game Is Rigged

What class do you define yourself as?

I've always believed I was working class, growing up, my mum and step dad brought their council property under buy to let, we went to the cinema rather than the theatre, except for pantomimes at Christmas, I went to state schools and we had free school dinners paid for as I recall with a plastic token, and having to let the school secretary know.

Politically, my family were 'small c; conservatives and I tended to live inside my own head, supplemented by comics, computer games and books. My discovery of political consciousness happened when I was in the Royal Navy, when I found myself at the sharp end of global politics and started asking why I was stuck for months on end at sea, enforcing a no-fly zone against a country that, as far as I could see, wasn't hurting anyone I knew.

(Not to say, that I disagree with intervention, but it has to be for the right reasons. When you sell weapons and training to a country you later invade, that may well be realpolitik but I wonder if other solutions are ever presented.)

But yes, I do consider myself working class. I tend to see people as individuals, but to deny that in this country, a class system exists is a fallacy. In fact, Grant Morrison once characterised that we have as rigid a caste system as India, with the attendant discriminations but it is invisible to those who cannot see it. I don't use this to characterise this as that other people are sheeple, the parts of my brain that store thoughts like this have rendered me useless in so many other areas. ( In fact, in any post-apocalypse scenario, leave me, I have no practical skills and I would be better off as a source of protein.)

The wonderful trick played upon us, is the idea that we are now all middle class and that means that we can be dissuaded from pursuing activism in pursuit of equality by a simple societal ego-massage. Middle and working class people don't send their children to public school, the middle class actually are in the top 10% of earners and well fuck it here is a guide for you -

Do you work for a wage? If so, you can reasonably be considered working class.

Are you salaried and your position relates to the management of others? Then you are middle class

If you are reasonably considered to be in a position of influence and have control over the means of production, then you are upper/ruling class.

So, it is a wonderful trick because most of us would consider ourselves middle class, it sounds more pleasant and aspirational does it not? Yet those of you who consider yourselves middle class and are actually working class are part of the problem, in such the same way minstrels and house negroes harmed race consciousness, so does this aspirational sleight of hand harm our social consciousness. Not that I blame you, we all should have goals to better ourselves, but consider that you should look inside of yourself for happiness, it requires less compromise on your part and it sustains long after the fact.

The game is rigged, but you cannot lose if you do not play. If you can step away from it, you can see how divisive and poisonous the whole thing is, how it has been used to prevent a fairer and more equal society, to keep things exactly as they are, which benefits only the smallest portion of society. Trinkets to keep us from seeking out the real treasure. How do you do this? Irony helps, but you can educate yourself and you can ask questions, you can get involved with something as simple as an email, but the time will come when people will tolerate no more, and you should consider whether you want to be a house pet or a lion. Hear me roar.

Conspiracies A Quiz

Multiple Choice

A. Somewhere in a room a group of people decide how the world is going to run over the next decade, where the wars will start and end, what new innovations will hit the market and generally ensure things run as they always do. They probably have ninjas to kill you if you found out the truth, but no one will believe you, unless you find a messageboard where others have pieces of the puzzle and you can all laugh at the sheeple.

B. Market forces, unintended consequences, people making decisions that are based on incomplete evidence or faulty data, political pressure and media pressure, or their assessment that this is the right thing to do, mental illness, following or trying to second guess trends in other fields, economic pressures and random events.

Which of these is more likely? Please choose three options

A. That everyone in government at the time of the WTC bombing was a soulless psychopath?

B. That Al Qaeda pulled off an act that they will never be able to pull off and that it was missed because of interagency co operation failings?

C. That every white person involved in civil contingencies around the time of Hurricane Katrina was spineless and/or a sociopath and that every black person was spineless?

D. That people make mistakes, that the idea that someone controls the world and that if we were to become aware of their existence, we would be WATCHED and possibly eliminated.

E. That no one controls anything, that you and I are in the greater scheme of things insignificant outside of our immediate circle of friends and colleagues and that the world kind of farts and bumps its way along, that we can work together if we want to, but we are mercy to our own impulses and fears.

I will mark these later, there is a prize

Me and Conservatism

I can understand being frugal, saving up for things is hard and sometimes when unexpected events happen, you have to go without a bit, prioritise as you see other people spend money on things without a care in the world. Delayed gratification, self-discipline these are traits that are useful to navigate this world. I saw a bit of that growing up, my mum worked full time after she split up with Brian and we went without a bit, not too much but as a kid, you notice these things, my kids don't get everything they want, and that breaks my heart sometimes, but I love them as much as my mum loves me, which is infinite. My mother, well I couldn't put into words how much I love her, and I am a pretty verbose man.

I do not blame the people who choose not to work, when they can make a decent living off of leaving their pride on stand by whilst they either go to the benefits office to sign on or the doctors to get another assessment, and if your rent is paid, your council tax is a notional thing then you can have money for things - when you see that most unqualified positions are minimum wage, why would you? Pride is nice but it doesn't put an IPhone in your back pocket. They are merely a symptom or simply intuitively and instinctively smart enough to not buy into the idea that working hard is at all noble.

Working hard is noble if you love what you do - otherwise its at best necessary to pretend to, I love what I am doing at the moment.

Because they serve a purpose to certain people - and its not just benefit claimants, its Moslems, european migrants, asylum seekers, gays, lesbians, the elderly,the homeless, vegetarians(Insert the tabloid target here)

If we have these people to blame, to project our frustrations onto, then we do not have to look at why we work the longest hours in Europe, why we have a minimum wage rather than a living wage, why we see these fellow human beings as something lesser than us rather than people. You know people like your friends, your parents, your lovers - they speak different languages and hold different values but ultimately, they are us. Maybe they dont see things the way you do, but I bet you do not hold the same opinions throughout your life, do you? If you actually looked at these people and saw them as people, not as projections of your own frustrations and envy, you should then ask why am I being directed to hate these people?

We have a government who specialise in divide and rule, where they point out and remove the protections that are the mark of a mature society and claim it is for our own good, when in truth it is merely to allow private enterprise to swallow up more of the things that we rely upon when we are weakest. Not everything should or could be run for a profit, it does not mean that it will be more efficient or that it will offer more, but that it will be run to make money.

Compassion is not trendy or clever, it has been made to feel mawkish and weak, but it is not, compassion is the deepest strength you can have as a man or a woman and it is something that I do not believe this government has, collectively. Compassion is not about doing things for people that they could do themselves, it is about doing things for those who cannot do for themselves, it is about helping them help themselves, and in truth, getting them jobs isn't the solution, it should be about getting them good jobs that pay a decent wage, that their rights are protected and that they are not fucking demonised by the same ideas that paid them off with disability benefit twenty years ago.

My tutor Pete said that " Love goes out the window when poverty moves in" We need love because a lot of people are going to be poor, or a lot poorer very soon. I don't think that money is a virtue, it is an illusion that stops us from asking why are things this way? We are at the mercy of impersonal forces, of individual mistakes and ideologies that crush our dreams and our hopes. We need love right now, more than ever. And I love you. Because you're you, and you are making the best decisions you can, same as I am. I don't judge you, I just wish you well. I am angry a lot not because I am worried that I am being screwed out of something, but because I do not feel that the world works for most of us, we have to fight for whatever small amount of joy we can gather to ourselves. I am proud of where and who I am, I was raised by good people, decent family who enabled me to think for myself. I want better for all of us.

More Coming

I am working on a post about conspiracy theories and how they impact on history and present politics, and their place, also a bit of a love letter to David Aaronovitch who has kicked the back doors of my belief system in.

Size Zero

Oh does this paper not understand irony?

Please, this paper regularly posts mocking articles about celebrities' weight gain.

Here

And a comprehensive review, analysis and swift kick to the nuts here

Words fail me.

Parenting

When you deal with a relative with drug and/or alcohol problems, it is difficult not to fall into the standard responses that society tells you to: for me, its not that I want him to stop entirely, but if it is a case that he 'sucks at drinking or doing drug' then stopping might stymie all of the other issues he has. You stop being angry, and sometimes it veers between premature enlightenment and exhaustion when you see the cuts on his forearms, when you show him how to apply for a twelve hour a week cleaning job and when he offers to wash up his cup, you forget how young he is. It hurts when you can see how much pain he is in, and you cannot do a single thing about it. That you can only learn to seperate who he is, from the things that he does and that still hurts like nothing I have ever known.. It is worse for Patsy, she has that maternal instinct to contend with and sometimes war against, because some of you will never have conversations where you agree that prison might be the best thing for your son. It teaches you compassion, it teaches you to be tolerant and it teaches you that there is no one way to raise a child, or to deal with his problems. I wish I could make him better, but it is not down to me or my wife or any of the people who support him as he exists. He has to make the choice as to what sort of person he wants to be.

Things That Make Me Cry

With laughter-

Ben Howgate Soo wishes he had the money to go to America

20 hours ago via Facebook for iPhone · Comment · ·

• Jodie Roots likes this.
• • 

    Carl Guyton Me too then I wouldn't have see you anymore

    12 hours ago ·
  • 

    Matt Blissett lol

    2 minutes ago · ·

    
    

    
    

    
    

Business

War is, in reality, horrific and something that I sincerely hope we evolve past. As a metaphor and when depicted artistically, it does make for some great art. However what I find utterly reprehensible, even as I can reframe it as being justifiable if you were interested in achieving new streams of revenue is profiteering from it. By that, I mean making money off of the inefficiencies of the supply stream and more importantly, off of the deaths of soldiers.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/07/28/AR2010072802525.html

There is no point asking yourself how they sleep at night, they do because they have the relative luxury of being removed from the idea that these are people who see these policies as anything other than numbers, revenue streams, opportunities. Morality and ethics do not make for revenue streams and financial opportunities. That our country and the U.S trumpet our war effort, whilst certain elements of the business sector see it as an opportunity to make money speaks volumes about who really is in control of things. Not that I am a conspiracy theorist, because as Jon Ronson put it so eloquently - it is far scarier if you believe that no one is in control of anything, that it all comes down to the markets. Business eats first. More later

Cruelty - Reality

Four Weddings - The Biggest Loser - two examples of shows that claim to be 'reality', when in truth they are carefully edited narratives made on the cheap with the same adherence to protagonists and antagonists, peaks and troughs and moral points. It is amateur dramatics, cinema verite made with the intention that it somehow shows people 'as they are'. LIE.

It holds up a mirror, sure, but a funhouse mirror, one that highlights whatever the producers want to show up about us. I have a problem with the cruelty of some of these shows, and I exclude Pineapple Dance Studios as it is arch camp theatre rather than reality per se.

People can say things that are cruel, misanthropic and ill-tempered, but usually they are spoken in hushed whispers because they understand tact. But no, we live in an age that oscillates between berry oiks like Clarkson and Kyle, skeletal pie-eyed wraiths who exist on prescription pills and celebrity tragedy and lumpen scowling nonentities who sit in judgement on everyone but themselves. Our new gods encourage us to be honest, so go tell that old lady on the bus that she smells of piss or point out that crop tops and post-natal weight gain are not a good luck, laugh OUT LOUD at the old man wearing shorts and a parka in July heat. You don't need talent or determination anymore, its about how much frenzied adulation you can create, or how thick your skin/brain is. Go on, set up a Facebook group so that your squalid opinions can meet with other less defined prejudices and they can all daisy chain one another, breeding so that you can all walk around laughing to yourselves that at last you have people who agree with the voices in your lumpy greasy skull.

I am not saying that I want to live in some kind of repressed, twisted sub-Victorian hell but I want people to come from a place of deep compassion in how they live. We should stop taking the piss as a reflex and try to show some restraint on the important things, we should be teaching people, giving them good choices(the important kind not Cameron's version of it, which is choose to businesses run everything, yeah!)

I like blogging

Relationships

OK, some things about relationships:

1. Mentioning your girlfriend/boyfriend/wife etc in every post/breath is endearing at first, because we have all been in love, but when it becomes the internet equivalent of a nervous tic, it is FUCKING BORING. Seriously, there is no one secret to happy relationships, because it is about negotiations between two individuals(or more- giggedy) and sometimes there are misunderstandings, there are always emotions and you know what, if I talk to you, and all you have to talk about is your relationship - 'well, I remember when I first got laid'. Babies are the exception, because having a baby is although not a miracle, is fairly fucking close especially when you struggle to have one or lose one. Babies blow your world apart, they do not repair relationships, they are not distractions from the gaping void when you look in the mirror and as long as you know that the commitment is for life, and that you think about how and when you raise your child, you're golden. Its great being a precocious fucker like me, with a thirteen year old and a seventeen year old, seeing all my friends now having babies. Friends' babies are awesome because you can give them back.

That's the secret - we tell our single friends how awesome marriage and babies are because WE WANT YOU TO SUFFER AS WE HAVE. As you revelled in adventure and drowned yourself in nubile flesh, whilst we sat there watching television, eating Doritos AND NOT HAVING SEX, we plotted our vengeance. It wasn't that we didn't like you nor did you rub our noses in it, but it is something that married people do to their single friends, like a genetic imperative. I have broken the vow all Married Men and Women take to reveal this, but I cannot live with the lie anymore. You know blow jobs, they stop - I didnt tell you that the time, I wanted to but there was a married guy with a Dragunov and he had a clean shot that would have turned my skull to mush. Sorry.

2. Relationships. Some people would be more dignified if they stuck to masturbation.

Welcome To My World

I feel like Superman sometimes, alive and determined in a way I have not for years. I am so much more confident now than I used to be, I use the nerves I feel when entering into something new to give me the confidence and energy I need to power through whatever life throws at me, I understand how to use language to achieve my goals and to positively influence both myself and other people. I can enter trance states, recall memories and either relive them or minimise their impact within me.

When you recall that feeling, feel it spreading out to every part of your body, permeating every fibre of your being until you feel composed entirely of that feeling. Every breath increases the sensation until it becomes a pure state of being - you are calm, enervated and utterly relaxed.

Welcome to my world

English and Progressive aren't mutually at odds

Scotland and Wales have their own political structures, and there are differences in terms of things like prescription charges, education fees etc Yet England is denied its own identity, its own referendum, allusions to it made by Gordon Brown were disguised as being about Britishness, when in fact the source was George Orwell talking about England. I do not understand how and why England is denied such a thing, what I do understand is that unless perceptions change, then we continue the juvenile assertion that the white working class is essentially racist, which isn't true, we allow the likes of Nick Griffin to co-opt the feeling and identity for his own gross purposes.

We are, as a people, tolerant and civic-minded, and the notion of being English is not something to be ashamed of, but certainly we need to ascertain whether or not we want to change the debate from something juvenile and dissonant to something inclusive and positive - the immigration debate speaks right to the heart of this, even as I sometimes have proved to me, that it is merely an acceptable way to promote racism without being overt about it. And the media distortion over that, is something that I see time and again.

You can be English and Progressive, you need no other permission than your own.

Things To Be Scared Of

You should be more scared of the press than the government. Ask Winston Silcott. Ask anyone who has been the subject of stories that had no basis in truth what it is like to have them rip into your life.

The press in this country are an uneasy amalgam of incompetence, laziness, malevolence and expediency. The lies that get propagated, the common assertions that are simply prejudices enforced and enflamed, they ruin people, or betray their memory - I wonder if Mark Speight might have found the will to live had the papers not dug through his life whilst his girlfriend was barely cold. I wonder if there is a child dead or crippled because their parents trusted the stories, unable to detect and disassemble the lies contained therein. There are many whose lives have been damaged by the agendas of daily newspapers.

The paranoia and fear that these papers engender has done more to prevent bold leadership decisions, (and it is important to define these apart from expressing public opinion) We hear how Britain is broken, yet never ask why the cheerleaders for the policies that ruined this country for anyone who earns less than 50k are still on the sidelines, no matter what team is on the field.

If only we had a PCC that had balls, or libel laws that were actually sensibly implemented and enforced.

Rise of the Idiots

The idiot is international, it recognises any and all flags, particularly if it can be used to justify the causal racism that is the stock and trade of the newspapers, and of the thriving network of jokes by text that seem to clog up my phone, in particular. My fellow countrymen, some of them are closeted racists, and the sad thing is, its not even an informed or considered opinion that they hold.

Our migration and asylum intake figures are far lower than a great many countries, yet people still persist in perpetuating this tide of immigration still exists, fuelled by the papers, the failure of housing and medical allocation and their own refusal to see that they are being lied to and manipulated, kept afraid, because a nation afraid is a nation that does as it is told.

Your common-variety racism can be pointed out, most people find it distasteful and I know that it is not a set of opinions that would be easily voiced in public, there is still that coyness about outing onself in that regard, but it is the insidious, causal racism that bothers me more. It is like beating up fog, a lie that gets repeated so often that it bears the veracity of truth. I am not racist, consciously but growing up where I did, there is that taint, but it is something that I have innoculated myself against, through education, through acquaintance, through knowledge.

The Facebook groups, the people who say that they will vote for BNP, but aren't racist, the people who pass on the jokes about 'Pakis and Niggers', they will say that they are not racist, but they are reinforcing racist ideas through repetition and through vertical integration. Yet these people deny the essential truth of what makes our country great - its diversity, its ability to blend and celebrate disparate cultures yet still remaining essentially England.

The arguments about the housing being allocated are untrue - essentially the Homeselect scheme is not streamed in the same way that those seeking asylum are housed, in truth, a great many asylum seekers are housed in detention centres. The reason why the waiting lists are so long, is that huge amounts of council properties were sold off to tenants, I am sat in one right now, I didnt consider my social responsibility, I was twenty and about to start a new career in the Navy, I wanted somewhere permanent to call home. This isnt an investment opportunity, this is my home. But all of those houses have, by necessity, made for a much smaller pool of resources to allocate, so its not the fault of people coming here, for the most part, to either work as is their right under the EU, as they have jobs and rent privately.

They are taking all our jobs - No they are not, they are taking whatever work is available, seeing as we enjoy a higher standard of living than some of our EU counterparts, they come here to work, some of them are exploited, paid less than the legal minimum wage or treated as indentured servants because of a language barrier. Its you who are being exploited, causal racist, by the businessmen and landowners who would prefer to pay EU workers because it is cheaper, not because of racism or cultural concerns, but because it costs less! The labour market being made 'flexible' in order to allow for free movement of manpower, the destruction of our manufacturing base, none of those were invented and implemented by anyone other than white men and women who wanted to keep what they had swindled and keep on doing it.

Martin Luther King was most famous for his work on racism, but I think that what got him killed was his desire to find common cause with the truth that poverty transcends race, and that white and black poor people have more in common than you might think, and it is that dissonance, that exploitation that carries on today, denied by idiots, propagated by those intelligent enough to know its untruth, but desperate to maintain their own wealth and influence.

State of the World

Things are probably as fucked as they ever are, but I still believe that change is coming, if not from Obama(I am coming to the conclusion that current leadership, both here and in the US will not give us that change) then certainly from somewhere outside the current framework.

I believe in comedians more than I do politicians these days, I have learnt that you have redress against the institutions that you thought were impregnable, even though you have to sift out the inevitable rants about lizard men.

I understand that every institution fails the individual, and I learnt that, both from years of employment and from David Simon's The Wire. What that means for me, is that I am still determined to do good things, but there exists a certain amount of detachment, which saddens me even as I know that it will be necessary for me to survive.

Will be blogging more now, FB gets a bit turgid and Twitter is oddly enough, too intimate.

Been A While

But feeling the need to blog again, am watching Before The Music Dies, which is a brilliant documentary and is trailed here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tsNO4PEhNw

It makes me angry, because if you are attractive and in your twenties, you have nothing to complain about, let alone sing. Yes, I could be argued as being bitter but the real music is being sidelined in mainstream culture.

Down But Not Out

I am fucking gutted that both the bands I am in have split, due to El needing to keep college and his new job in balance with his marriage and Rich having an attendant loss of confidence. I feel shit about it, because I wanted to have something that was mine, somewhere I could shine and that hasnt happened. Not sure how I feel right now, sort of abandoned but in one sense determined to carry on.

Something I Wondered

Would Fox News and the Republicans be so angry about Obama if he were white? There seems to be this undertone that, being english and possessed of an understanding of irony and subtext, I see as having the idea that he should know his place. He is, in the end, mortal and failing on some issues, but then those of us who armchair quarterback his decisions have no real idea of what is involved in the running of America, and much the same applies to Gordon Brown, because when we look at George Osbourne and David Cameron, I dont feel that the country should be run by the likes of them.

Brown fucked up, but he is trying and personally I would welcome a return to Old Labour values and the financial industry getting smacked down, with some hard tax legislative statues being applied to the oligarchs and tax exiles who work and live here, but are virtually registered in a PO box in Jersey or Bermuda.

But with Obama, it seems intensely personal, and to be honest, although the left in the US criticised Bush et al, it was still with the innate deference for the office, but Hannity, Beck, O'Reilly, Coulter, Malkin and the whole sick crew seem to steam in with the insults.

So here are some of mine:

Sean Hannity

Looks like he still lives with his mother, and struggles with overpowering sexual feelings towards her which he suppresses by combing his hair really hard and polishing his shoes until he can see his acromegalic, doughy face in it and hopes that the tears blur the reflection enough so he can look at it.

Glenn Beck -

Looks like he would be aroused by sideboob and upskirt shots on gossip websites, and upclose I imagine he smells of babysick and wet bread. Has joyless awkward sex with transexual prostitutes who then cradle him in their arms as he weeps for what might have been.

Bill O'Reilly

Has the expression of someone who is never happier than when a dominatrix has him sobbing into a pair of her used underwear and would probably fake being a haemophiliac to get out of an honest fight.

Michelle Malkin -

Knows that her attractiveness is a cage and a label, and ultimately when the Republican Apocalypse happens, will sit in a metal bikini on a chain as Dick Cheney has eurasian orphans fight each other with shards of glass for his amusement. Republican valley Girl with the depth and candour of a council estate slag.

Ann Coulter - If the Angel of Death did meth for four years whilst stalking a Concentration Camp, most men would still fuck it rather than her. Speaks with a sullen drawl that attempts to convey ennui and learned cynicism but ultimately shows her to be detached and devoid.

No one on Fox News is as clever or witty as they think they are, and the insecurity comes off the screen in waves. I watch it because of schadenfreude.

Celebrity

Lily Allen recently posted her feelings on piracy, it was heartfelt and based on her experiences, but perhaps a tad uninformed about how, in the death of it, copyright is complicated for everyone, beit consumer or artist.

Personally, i think that were the record industry to die, music would still exist, maybe not Lily VV Lott LaRoux, JLS et al and the vast army of backroom producers would have to be a little less arrogant but if you worked hard and produced good stuff, then you would have a career. There are means around it, but the industry would rather maintain salaries, cut back on artist development and take legal action than invest in such, so it is, in my mind, entirely their fault.

Katie Price - she makes me feel ill when i look at her, there is nothing to her but raw need, and she believes she is somehow being provocative and interesting when all she does is undermine women by her example. That she alleges rape, and will not seek prosecution nor allow her accuser the right to seek redress, because people know, its just that it has not reached a wider platform within the media, is sickening. I could not care less about her, personally, she angers me because she is everywhere and therefore I feel I cannot ignore her, especially when she is being promoted so vigorously. I believe that any liberation and any change within society will come only when women and men work together, and this sort of thing feeds the misogynistic elements of the media. If she has been raped, and this is how she deals with it, I do not see how it can help her or anyone else who looks to popular culture for guidance on dealing with such a violation. There still exists a lack of will within law enforcement and culture to deal with rape with the same seriousness as murder or, if we are being honest, property crimes.

Update

epic weekend of camping, will post more on it later.

The Daily Mail

I am not going to post at length all the things wrong with this paper, on every level it disturbs me but there are those who blog relentlessly about it and its reasoning.

http://www.angrymob.uponnothing.co.uk/

Genuinely funny and thoughtful, I wish that these were the mainstream opinions - the mercurial reaction time, the surgically precise humour and the sheer power of the truth. Instead we get well-meaning apologies and partisanship towards those who are too afraid to compromise on their ignorance.

Psychopathology

http://tinyurl.com/rd9hdw

Israel - a complicated situation, almost indistinct in the storm of potential accusations of anti-semitism and the counter accusations that it has co-opted the memory of the Holocaust for propaganda purposes. Its right to exist, and to defend itself is the stuff that degrees and bibliographies are built upon.

Yet it waged war upon the people of Gaza, as the above link reports. The Israeli army bombed factories from the air, and then sent in mines and soldiers to ensure it was destroyed to the foundations, they bombed hospitals and mosques. Some of the testimonies are damning and uncomfortable, but you should read them.

It is important to seperate Israel from Judaism, in as much as we should seperate Islam from Al-Qaeda and KKK from christianity, because Israel, it is reasonable to conclude, is a state turned to terrorism. Al-Qaeda with a Michael Bay budget and the US onside. If there is justification for this, I long to hear it.

Politics

http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_ID=10&article_ID=106355&categ_id=5

Interesting article, and I am always prepared to be wrong on whatever opinion I have held regarding terrorism.

Suicides Will Continue Until Morale Improves

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8252547.stm

23 people killing themselves, working at one location, is very disturbing. That it could be down to management actions and drives designed to undermine and reduce the human element to nothing is not in the least surprising. The drive to maximise profits at the expense of all else kills, either immediately or eventually.

Bass Post

Not doing much bandwise at the moment, trying to transition from surge lounge to the new thing with Ben, Laura and Sean and champing at the bit to get Floating Leaf going again, and this post is about some of the things I consider when I play.

I view my playing as part of the rhythm section, working almost as one instrument with El, and part of that comes from having spent lots of time locking in with him, and generally jamming with him. Sonically, I prefer to play flatwound strings because I tend to prefer that the guitar and vocals stay in the mids, whilst I like to work in with the drums sonically. If I can get that rumble, it sounds huge.

True Blood

It is artfully camp, but thoroughly entertaining, the Deep South setting and the absolutely gorgeous cast(who deliver some great performances) all combine into a rich, thick stew of decadent, white trash opera. The interpretation of vampirism would, in any other setting, be awfully antiquated, but here it is somehow beautifully baroque.

That, and Anna Paquin is mesmerising. Genuinely gorgeous and sweet.

Watch it, or download it, it is fun

Sick, Sick Sick

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/tayside_and_central/8251370.stm

I try to think well of people, but this sort of thing makes me wonder why we are still on the planet.

Racism and Religion

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/8251958.stm

We live in a complicated world, and I try to be careful with my opinions, because my feelings are, well, complicated.

Racism is not rational, although there are those who try to define it in terms of logic and reason, but it is irrational and stinks of fear and ignorance. Racism is not innate nor is it natural, children aren't born with it, it has to be learned and taught, or it thrives in the damp and dark places of society, it is not a matter of class because to be honest, on most council estates, they are neighbours, someone to borrow a cup of sugar or share a spliff with, it is the middle class enclaves where the daily mail is delivered that it lives and gains respectability. Patriotism is not racism, but it is easy to confuse it in these times. And in the above report, the right action is being taken, which is that of opening a dialogue with people on why they feel this way.

Islam is one of many religions, and I do not begrudge anyone their beliefs as long as they are not forced upon me, nor should they be subject to abuse for their beliefs. However the extremist elements of religions continue to cause me discomfort, because no matter how many concessions they receive, it will never be enough. Sharia Law is abhorrent, I find censorship in any form discomforting and I resent moral judgements from anyone but my own conscience, I also resent any attempts to limit what we do with our bodies. I also on the other hand understand why someone would enter into such a belief, the incursion of western military into their countries, the support for the House of Saud and the continued support of Israel, the glorification of vulgar wealth and the cheapening of human interaction and sexuality into talking points and sales pitches, I do get that.

In one sense it is an artificial conflict, rendered so by history and political decisions rendered in the spirit of pragmatism and expediency, but in another, it is entirely real and volatile. It does disturb me, the casual racism as much as the overt hate, the text message length jokes and the snarling comments about immigrants all make me uncomfortable, but I just try to live my life and be able to look at myself in the mirror.

observation

Today I got more done at work without a manager present, than I otherwise would. Which to me, is a pretty apt metaphor for how the world should be run, by us, for us. because my version of what Labour should be is not wholly in government. Someone traded the soul of the party in return for appeasing the middle and upper class bloc vote, and promised that the resulting trade off would not corrupt them too much. It is the lay workers and activists who should be running the country, I have the honour of knowing some of them and they give me reason to look at that membership card and NOT REGRET IT.

They lied about the war, our country is now a haven for tax exiles and billionaires, the continuation of Conservative spending plans and the appeasement of business has made things worse not better, and the good things(Tax Credits!) are themselves threatened by the cack handed bureaucracy that smothers them. The unions need more powers and TO BE LISTENED TO, because although the government chose business over people, it has forgotten one essential truth:

PEOPLE ARE ITS BUSINESS

Rover

What they did was what I would call economic terrorism, as destructive and malign as planting a bomb in a community. That they got rich off it, and that the government let it happen, and that it is seen as good business practice.

sorry

its been months since i have been on here, but i make it difficult to blog, mainly because i somehow lose the will to keep writing and avoiding anything too overtly personal. But I aim to get some pieces up and get people reading.

FX Decisions

Am looking into pedals, at the moment. I've experimented with a Behringer multi-fx, which when it worked was immensely fun and educational, but now I have developed my left and right hand techniques to the point where I get by..

BUT ITS NOT AS MUCH FUN AS THE RAW JOY OF NOISE!!

So, I really do need to develop my sound, through FX: here is what I would like.

Compression. For Surge, I would benefit from a smoother sound, although primarily a studio effect, Jamerson used it and more recently, I have read that The Roots use tonnes of it, which is a no-brainer for me, I love that bass sound with a passion.

Fuzz - As opposed to distortion, which just sounds like a downtuned guitar, I like how the low end doesnt get entirely sacrificed for the effect, and its a staple of the funk bassists who made their solos and fills all the livelier for it - Bootsy and Larry Graham, and later Christian MacBride.

Envelope Filter - That whompah wah whomp sound? Makes me make that O face I get when I really feel a groove, would be of minimal use other than Surge, but good damn I want it to hand.

Thats all at the moment, the others I don't see a pragmatic need for, but I can use my imagination in the moment.

Things In Life

There are things in life that haunt you, that define and scar you. You can try and outrun them, but they wait, patiently for you to catch your breath and then they whisper in your ear.

"I'm here"

Surge(Lounge)

The sessions at Starbucks are going well, and El and I played at the launch of Yarmouth as a fair trade borough, as a duo which was nerve wracking but went really well in the end, the accoustics were lovely and it seemed to mark the end of my brief sojourn with the accoustic-electric, as I have now moved to the Adam Black with flatwounds, going full-circle.

Laura is great - and she adds so much texture and flavour to what El and I do, that when we play without her, it doesnt sound the same, in fact the space between the three instruments is fast becoming a signature. Part of me would like a keyboard player, although I do need to work on my own keyboard playing, I do like how when we get it going, it comes alive.

I tend to fall into patterns with my playing, and El is really good at suggesting places I can go and he tends to push me creatively, in a way that means I stretch out, something that I always benefit from. It'll be interesting to see how we do with Rich on Tuesday, for me it'll be cool to interpret someone else's music rather than having to constantly think on your feet, which although enervating, is sometimes a challenge. Once I get the sound card, I do want to get more into composition, so that I can avoid falling into patterns, the different tonal centre that Laura comes from, means that I have to be able to play in different keys, and my technique is getting better as a result, seeing as I am the only bass clef instrument, I have to watch my dynamics and my intonation. I play softer and smoother in Surge(Lounge) and I am all the better for it. The key to it, from Miles Davis, is to let the bass ask a question, wait a moment and then answer it, it is all about listening, and getting to a place where you can focus purely on listening and responding to what the other instruments are doing.

The key now, is getting content and raising our profile, along with getting out of our comfort zone, which was a problem for TGME when we had the jam nights at Rasputins.

Still, good times at the moment.

www.surgelounge.co.uk

band website has been purchased, and el is working on content - with suggestions from all of us, I will probably be writing the blog for it, mainly because I do enjoy writing about the band and the music. We have a twitter feed for the group, and its an exciting time because a website is a definite step further than tgme, and to be honest, I am glad that tgme had a limited profile, not that I wasnt proud of some of the work, but we were unfocussed and in denial of the issues that should have been resolved, which ultimately destroyed it. TGME was a sullen democracy, SL is a cheery dictatorship in so much as El and I drive things, but even that is changing as the others all have valid ideas and bring into play textures that make the music better.

Textures, which El uses, is a good way to define what SL is about, in terms of the writing and concept, not so much notes as sounds and emotions - we're not huge theorists, but there is enough general knowledge of it to provide a framework so that it sounds good to the ear. I use chord progressions, scales and such for my bass playing, even if I stay on a single chord, or even a single note I consider the possibilites of where it can go.

I will continue to post here, need to go practice and wait for the skip to arrive so i can get the garden sorted.

Hip Hop

Like the Erykah Badu song, its probably the love of my life. From NWA and Public Enemy, to The Roots, MF Doom and Saul Williams, I have always been drawn to the rhythm and the noise, let alone how it can be elevated to the rarefied heights it has in recent years.

I love the repetition of it, the structure and how it can be both organised and yet seeming to be random scraps of other instruments, vocal sounds and other ephmera. I love how it incorporates so many other genres, and makes them its own. I love how it allows for chrome stadium grandstanding and avant-beat poetry, and I love how it makes your heart race and your mind delight.

I have my favourites, and there is as much safe and uninvolving hip hop as there is in any music form, but it is a form of music as valid as jazz or classical. Its DIY origins came from necessity, from hunger and that informs greatness, without argument.

I love how it works with live instruments, both as a listener and as a musician, it seems to have something although I doubt I will ever approach the depth and genius of Jay Dilla or Danger Mouse, but I reach for the best Surge Lounge I can, the one that lives in my head.

Bass

I constantly reach with my bass playing, but in terms of making it groove. I like to work on a chord, or a fitting chord sequence, and with the metronome on, work it over and over, constantly reaching for that sequence of notes where it does what it needs to do, and from there, can evolve without breaking the back of it.

My influences tend to come from a number of sources: hip hop, and not necessarily the live stuff, although the approach tends to inflect what I do, Motown for Jamerson, because he was fearless, inventive and yet in complete control of the low end(thats not to discount Babbitt, who was equally powerful) and the funk, or at least the idea of funk, that lives in my head.

I know it when I hear it, sometimes its simple, sometimes its intricate and melodic, but when I hear it, I repeat it over and over, until I kind of go away, listening with all of my attention but feeling it, until I can register the precise set of sensations and emotions. It has to be music, I am tough to please when I practice alone. Oddly with El, I tend to make my choices even simpler, sometimes locking in with the kick is all I need, to the point that sometimes El wants me to go crazy, which by that point, I am grateful to do.

I practice chords and scales, but not as much as I should because I tend to get more developing my ear, but that will change from now.

Neglectful

Been lazy lately, am itching to get something done, got the jazz gigs on sunday, but with El mid-move, its been slow on getting the band together, so sundays and my practice sessions are the only playing I get done. Am reinstituting the blog as an outlet, will be posting stories and opinions, and general rants about my home life!

THE FUNK

Next to hip hop and r'n'b, funk has been a formative influence on me as a bassist. It is prominent in the mix, it combines and assimilates so many influences, and it has influenced so many different acts. My favourite artists are:

1. Prince. Not known for his funk as much as his general stew of influences, he knows the funk - live, his band blows out some intense displays of rhythm, its a mix of Apollonian discipline and Dionysian bacchanal, and he still has it, in spades.

2. Parliament-Funkadelic. Certainly more Dionysus, and it has this anarchy and grit through it, were it all seems to overwhelm you, as much a training ground as a playground, it unleashed some insanely great musicians into the world and added so much to the vocabulary of music.

3. James Brown. His concept that every instrument is a rhythm instrument tapped into something deeper, his discipline and dedication coupled with his personal flaws and tragedies make him enthralling to listen to, even now.

But the main thing about funk is, it makes you move. I cannot, not do it, even when I am copping the bass part, I still need to interact with the groove.

My Band

First band was, actually, called Suncolour, and it was a few rehearsals, competent but little to no chemistry. Guitarists's gf played keyboards and it fizzled out without too many repercussions. Still, always nice to have that moment where you dream of conquering the world.

Second band was actually Surge Lounge, no vocalist, but same guitarist and the greatest drummer I have ever worked with. El kicks so much ass on the drums, on top of that he is a genuinely great man, but due to lack of a singer, we went on an extended hiatus..

The Green Monkey Experience. Huge learning curve, but intense. Technical yet sprawling, we tried so hard but when it came down to it, there were fundamental differences of opinion, also it divided into two camps, El and I, Chopper and Ash. It died in its sleep, but as it was in its death throes, El and I went back to..

Surge Lounge, this time we are doing hip hop, we have two great MCs, one of whom is doing guitar, we are looking for other musicians, and have gigs lined up. Life is good.

Brit Awards

Its awful, on every level. When Ferne Cotton was stood in front of a caravan interviewing Jamie Oliver and Jamie Cullum, my bones vibrated with rage, when Take That emerged from the UFO dressed like gay porn stars doing a Kraftwerk tribute act or when Coldplay limped around the stage, I wondered where the terrorist cells were, and why didn't one of them do the world of music a favour. I wanted Joe Calzaghe to punch holes in James Corden's head, and I felt ashamed for those people I do like(KoL, Pegg and Frost, who looked faintly embarrassed) Dignity had no place tonight, and we got Duffy.

Duffy, Duffy won every award possible, with her cheap Taiwanese Barbie features and voice like a cat with leukaemia. She is engineered to be the Aryan clone of Amy Winehouse, because you know the inoffensive soul diva is an affront to humanity. When Marvin Gaye was contractually obliged to release an album, of which all royalties were to go to his ex-wife, he released Here, My Dear(I learnt that from Something Awful) which was a killer album full of lacerating lyrics. Billie Holliday sang about black men being lynched. Duffy is a mustard burp who has coasted into fame on the back of a Bernard Butler production that resembles a Motown production devoid of the blue collar innovation that raised a production line song factory into raw genius.
The TingTings are a fucking joke, pop music that sounds like instruments given over to chimps. I can appreciate innocent music, but this is calculated artless shit, disguised as sneering indie cool. They make Miley Cyrus sound like Janis Joplin.
Pet Shop Boys were just cringeworthy, relics of another age.
What I hate most is the self-congratulatory tone the whole event takes, from the shitty presenter gags(Craig David, is that the best they could come up with?), to the nonentity award presenters(Natalie Imbruglia, Jamie Oliver) to the limp performances(KoL were a notable exception but they seemed to have traded their edge for acclaim, not that I blame them). The whole thing made the Mick Fleetwood/Sam Fox debacle look like high art, not in terms of competence but in terms of spirit, this was as cynical and lifeless as a prostitute pretending to be a corpse for cash.
However Girls Aloud were great: they're all gorgeous and their music has a certain quality control that makes them entirely palatable. Although I mainly like them because they are bloody lovely to look at. Never said I was a saint, baby:-)
This is what happens when my drummer is in London, I post bad things

Just rediscovered...

..this blog when my wife googled my name! So I am going to resume blogging once again, it will be more about music, as for the last few years I have gotten into playing bass and it has replaced comics in my estimation. I will talk about what I play and what I listen to, and also will talk about the films that I love/hate am looking forward to.

Resolutions

1. Get into college again and really work at it.
2. Get submissions done and posted off
3. Sort out finances and house.
4. Sort out weight problem and tone/build up
5. Get published.

New idea:
Cold Mountain in space

He doesn't need defending, crazy cat lady

http://www.screamifyouwantit.com/mambo/content/view/73/27/

Some people need to get help

Hey lady, he's not real you know

It could stand to be said, for a lot of reasons.
http://www.screamifyouwantit.com/mambo/content/view/73/27/

If they wanted to make him a post-operative trans-sexual who renounces his activism in favour of a new career as a lingerie designer, they can, because he is a creative property, not a person.

The Byrne board weigh in

With their reaction to the Cockrum Call-Out, but Byrne manages to make it all about his pain, again.

Paty managed to take offense when I said Dave's work was "gorgeous". I think that puts everything in perspective, no?
But Gary Hart soars in with the insight-bomb of the topic
Is Paty Cockrum the Latoya Jackson of the Comics World?

Jewish Comics Conspiracy

Here is Patty Cockrum, proving why thyroid problems and comics don't mix. Millarworld, respond in a thread started by OMAR. Yes, the meta-troll, who Baker_Baker dreams of being. Bendis responds here.

But Marvel aren't anti-semitic because Moon Knight, Kitty Pride and The Thing are jewish, so there!

Artists

Not a rant, but more of a surprised reaction to the talent that is coming through after a well-placed ad on Digital Webbing. I believe in what I am writing, and that powers me as much as it entertains me.
My bronchitis still hurts like fuck, but this makes me feel a damn site better on a Monday morning!

FBR IDST

I will miss this blog immensely

Wisdom from the Engine

The Engine is Warren Ellis' forum, a place for non-superhero writers and creators, with a side order of general Ellis-ness and whatever grab=bag of cliches you might assign to him. But it is bloody useful for aspiring creators: this is from Matt Fraction, a writer and creator who has some notable books behind him

http://www.the-engine.net/forum/index.php?webtag=ENGINE&msg=453.12

Rules and Regulations

From Robert Heinlein, via James Coppervale
1. You must write.
2. You must finish what you write.
3. You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
4. You must put the work on the market.
5. You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

George, Part 2.

The Download

Name: Matthew Brian Blissett
D.O.B.:08/28/1976
Occupation: Retail Team Leader
Influences: COMICS: Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis, Alan Moore, Frank Miller
FILM: David Fincher, Robert Rodriguez, Ridley Scott, Joss Whedon.
LITERATURE: Brett Easton Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk, John Connolly, Cormac McCarthy, George R R Martin.

Comic Projects: George(with Damian Street)
Undisclosed projects at various stages

Freeing Oneself

Having, almost shamefully developed Mr Forbidden, I am now developing other science heroes for my own gratification and a desire to explore the myths and themes inherent in those concepts.

THE ORB.


Page 6:
A translucent, luminous orb, floating in the darkness of space, as wide across as a city.
Caption: IT WAITS, PATIENT AS BUDDHA, DRINKING IN THE GLORIOUS SONG OF STARS, AS IT PREPARES TO GIVE UP IT’S ONLY SON FOR SOME DISTANT PROMISE…
Cut to a close up of a fingertip, wrapped in a metallic liquid.
Caption: …OF SALVATION.
Pull back to reveal THE ORB(a rejuvenated and modified Kevin), an athletic male human physique clad in a suit of liquid metal that accentuates and diminishes (no nipples or genital bulges!) The only features on the face are a pair of ovoid reflective lenses that are a shade darker than the rest of the suit. He stands before a translucent column of light, one hand resting upon it.
Kevin: SELF IS READY TO RE-INTEGRATE INTO NOT-SELF STREAM.
Orb-Mother: CO-ORDINATINATION IMMINENT.
Medium close up as Kevin turns his head to one side.
Kevin: WHAT WAS THAT?
Page 7:
Pouring through a shimmering rift in space, a column of black, green and blue sludge, which contains within it, humanoid shapes struggling to become distinct amidst the entire structure. Imagine reality as a body, this is the infection that is killing it slowly, manifested as the seeping pus that you get when you infect a wound. This is the MALIGNANCY, humanity’s lowest point - a soldier-virus that corrupts and recruits whatsoever it touches.
Caption: THE MALIGNANCY. SOLDIER/VIRUS/GOD, INFECTS AND CORRUPTS ENTIRE REALITIES IN IT’S QUEST TO RECYCLE THE UNIVERSE.
Have this panel be tucked away in the bottom-right corner.
Kevin’s face-mask contorting to reveal the fear and confusion within.
Kevin: WHAT DO WE DO?
Page 8.
The Malignancy, swarming, suffusing the Orb as it gives off flashes of disinfecting light in an attempt to ward off the aggressor.
Cut To: Inside as Kevin has the column of light wrapped around his left arm as the interior of the Orb has quickened to a dismal gray.
Kevin: TELL ME WHAT TO DO, IS THERE ANYTHING MORE I CAN DO TO HELP?
Orb: CANNOT COMPLETE DOWNLOAD AT THIS TIME…MISSION PARAMETER DOWNLOAD 38% COMPLETE…
Drop the angle so that we are looking up as a tendril of Malignancy has penetrated the Orb and hangs there, dripping ichor as it looks upon Kevin.
Orb: LISTEN TO ME…YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH OF THE OPERATING SYSTEM DOWNLOADED TO COMPLETE THE MISSION, BUT IT’S TOO LATE…
The tendril striking towards us, in a blurred motion.
Page 9:
Kevin, leaping away, arms parallel by his sides and legs straight as a column of zeroes and ones emerge from the soles of his feet as the tendril penetrates the ground.
Caption: USING THE INFORMATION THAT COMPRISES THE UNIVERSE TO TRAVERSE INFINITE DISTANCE, MEANS THAT THE ORB IS CAPABLE OF GREAT FEATS OF PHYSICAL PROWESS.
Kevin, turning, arms outstretched with his palms facing out as beams of light punch out of the center of each one, the back blast illuminating his cheekbones.
Caption: CONSTANT ABSORPTION OF AMBIENT FORCES THROUGH HIS EXOSKELETON ALLOWS HIM TO REFRACT AND LAZE LIGHT AS PART OF AN EXTENSIVE ARMOURY.
The tendril, evaporating where the blasts impact it.
An outpouring of Malignancy is encroaching on Kevin in the foreground.
Orb (no tail): TIME TO GO PLAY WITH THE BIG BOYS, KEVIN.

Endings

One of the things that Alan Moore did during his time reinventing superhero comics was to point out the blinding obvious to an audience and an editorial/creative community. Mythology resonates because there is an end: Robin Hood fires the arrow to determine where he will be buried, ultimately the hero departs.

Now commercial considerations determine that for most characters in superhero fiction, that does not happen. With my own creation, Mr Forbidden and his family/friends associates, there is an ending in mind. I am writing it, even though I am ignorant of the chances of him ever being published, but because I want to know going in, that I am not creating someone who will disappear into stasis. The ending is there, even if no-one but me will ever see it.

Stack

Stack was/is my attempt to do something about a posthuman, based around the engine of the present being blasted with bits of the future
STACK
Issue 1
An underpass, across the crumbling expanse of wall is a detailed graffiti tag; we are looking at it through the lens of a digital camera.
Text: WHEN BRANNON TOOK OVER THE ROLE OF CHIEF OF POLICE IN 1992, PROPERTY DAMAGE OF $400 BECAME A FELONY, THE IDEA BEING THAT THIS WOULD DETER GRAFFITI IN LOS ANGELES.
Side view of HENRY UNDERWOOD, a black male in his early twenties, cropped black hair, goatee and spectacles. He is wearing a UCLA hooded sweatshirt and has a laminated pass around his neck on a rawhide thong, and he is bringing a small digital camera down from eye level. On his shoulder hangs a leather bag, where he keeps his laptop and cellular phone.
Text: BUT GRAFFITI ISN’T ABOUT VANDALISM, IT’S ABOUT IDENTITY, EXPRESSION AND PRIDE. YOU CANNOT PUT A PRICE ON THAT.
Henry’s lap top, USB cable to his camera connecting it all up as he downloads his pictures, the screen shows a huge amount of. JPEG files on there. Do this from Henry’s POV, the whole set-up is sat precariously on his lap.
Text: THE BROKEN WINDOW PRINCIPLE OF POLICING THAT HE PIONEERED IN NYC UNDER RUDY AND BROUGHT WITH HIM. KEPT THINGS REAL NICE FOR THE TOURISTS AND THE PEOPLE WHO COULD AFFORD A CERTAIN LEVEL OF DISTANCE FROM ANYTHING APPROACHING ‘REAL’ CRIME.
Page 2:
Henry, riding a mountain bike along the street, illuminated by the street lights, do this as an upshot so that we are looking at him.
Text: MY NAME IS HENRY UNDERWOOD, I WAS TWENTY-TWO AND A PHOTOJOURNALIST FOR STREETDOTCOM, WHICH WAS AN URBAN CULTURE SITE. ONE WEEK IT WOULD BE BOTOX PARTIES IN San Fernando, BUT THIS WEEK IT WAS GRAFFITI. I WORKED WITH MINIMAL OVERHEADS AND LITTLE TO NO EDITORIAL CAVEAT, SO I WORKED AS I CHOSE.
Henry, looking up and enjoying the breeze on his face. A small panel, a beat before we move onto the scene proper.
Text: TONIGHT WAS WHERE IT ALL BEGAN. AND ENDED.
Up ahead, A Lincoln, idling at the kerb. Around it are three black males, one sat on the hood of the car is POKE, painfully thin with cornrows, a white tee and blue jeans that sit low on his hips over white trainers, who is swigging on a can of beer. The second man, who is stood on the kerb is NEEDLE, he wears a short sleeved Von Dutch shirt, jeans and a red do-rag. He is puffing on a blunt, and his eyes are heavy-lidded with intoxication and next to him is RAY, who is wearing a wife beater, jeans and a ball cap worn to one side, from the waistband juts the handle of a .22 revolver. He is pointing ahead of him; he’s noticed HENRY.
Ray: THASS MY BIKE, MOTHERFUCKER!
Henry, staring straight ahead, a grim expression on his face as he pedals on.
Thought balloon: show a storm cloud with drops of rain and a fork of lightning.
Page 3:
RAY, walking into the path of Henry, arms out to each side and his head cocked to the left, eyes blazing with a crazed, malevolent energy.
Ray: I KNOW YOU HEARD ME, MOTHERFUCKER, THASS MY BIKE YOU RIDIN’ AN SHIT.
POKE, laughing as he hands the can over to Needle.
Poke: RAY, THAT AIN’T YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIKE, YOU SOLD IT AT THA SWAP MEET!
Needle, looking at Henry through a fog of dope smoke as he brings the beer can to his lips.
Needle: MIGHT NOT BE HIS BIKE, POKE. BUT THIS BITCH DON’T LOOK HE EVER BEEN TO NO SWAP MEET.
Henry, holding onto the handle grips of his bike, on the verge of tears as Ray walks towards him, as we look over his shoulder.
Henry: PLEASE, MAN. I’M JUST GOING HOME, ALRIGHT.
Ray: YOU BEGGING ME, MAN?
Henry: NO, I..JUST.
Ray, up close, feeding off of the fear he’s creating in Henry.
Ray: GET OFF OF THE FUCKING BIKE.


Page 4:
Pan around to a side angle as Needle and Poke are walking over, Ray has the bike by the handlebars as Henry sits on it, feet on the asphalt.
Needle: GET THE FUCK OFF!
Poke: NEEDLE, NEVER MIND THE BIKE, WHASS IN THE BAG, RAY?
Henry, closing his eyes, as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
Henry: NO.
Pull back and pan around to a medium close up as Ray slaps Henry, his glasses flying towards us, cracked lenses and a bent arm as his head rocks back on his shoulder.
Henry, falling away, still clutching his bag. Do this as a downshot.
Cut to a blurred, out of focus upshot as Ray stands over him, the revolver in his hand with Needle and Poke flanking him.
Ray: GIVE IT UP, BITCH, THIS AIN’T YOUR NIGHT.
Page 5:
Cut to a falling cigarette butt, the end glowing in the twilight as we see it fall from a gloved hand.
The butt, hitting the floor.
The toecap of a cowboy boot, crushing it beneath. On the toe is a wolfs head, iridescent against the highly burnished black leather.
Upshot of an unshaven chin and a mouth, revealing white, even teeth, curved into a predatory smile.
Stack: NO, THIS AIN’T YOURS.
Head-level shot of Ray, Poke and Needle, Ray looks terrified, Poke is shocked and Needle looks deeply uncomfortable.
Page 6:
Medium shot in full profile. STACK somewhere between an extreme sports athlete and the Marlboro Man. He stands about six feet tall, with black hair worn stylishly unkempt and a faint trace of silver at the temples. He wears designer sunglasses, Oakley or Wayfarer, the kind worn by extreme athletes low on the bridge of his nose, above which his cerulean blue eyes twinkle, there are the faintest traces of crows feet there. He is a big man, but a lot of his bulk is concealed beneath the biker jacket he wears, a designer motley of colors (no logos). He wears blue jeans and the aforementioned boots; his hands are squeezed into his pockets. Think a grizzled Brad Pitt or a young Jack Nicholson. Around his neck, on a chain is a symbol, a golden triangle with a circle inset and inside of that is a caduceus.
Stack: STEP AWAY FROM THE MAN, AND DROP THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND.
Ray, pointing the revolver at Stack, it is held to the left as he looks at Stack, terrified.
Ray: FUCK YOU, MAN. BEST BACK OFF BEFORE I PUT YOU DOWN.
Needle hands behind his back, staring at Stack.
Needle: MOVE YOUR ASS, MOTHERFUCKER.
Cut behind him, as we see him racking the slide on a Glock-17.
Stack (no tail): WOULDN’T RECOMMEND THAT, MY MAN.
Needle, pointing the gun at Stack.
Needle: RAY AIN’T GOING TO DO SHIT, UNDERSTAND?
Page 7:
Poke, pointing at Henry on the ground, bemused.
Poke: THOUGHT WE WAS FIXIN’ TO ROB THIS BITCH, NOW WE’RE GONNA SHOOT THAT BITCH?
Ray: THAT’S RIGHT, POKE.
Needle: DAMN STRAIGHT.
Stack, stood there, still smiling.
Stack: IT APPEARS TO BE THAT WAY, SIR. WOULD YOU BE PULLING A GUN AT THIS POINT?
Poke, shrugging his shoulders embarrassed.
Poke: NOT UNLESS YOU GONNA LET ME GRAB IT FROM MY GLOVE COMPARTMENT?
Stack (no tail): THAT MIGHT BE STRETCHING IT THERE, MIND IF I DECLINE THAT?
Poke, frowning as we are looking over Stack’s shoulder at this point.
Poke: SEEMS FAIR TO ME. BUT THEN I AIN’T THE ONE WITH TWO GUNS POINTED AT MY CRACKER ASS.

Page 8:
Needle, pointing the gun at Stack as he looks to Ray.
Needle: SO WHAT NOW, DO WE SHOOT HIS ASS?
Ray: THAT’S UP TO HIM, IT’S DARK, MIGHT BE THAT HE GOT HIMSELF LOST AND MIGHT WANT TO WALK HIS ASS OVER THE STREET.
Stack, slipping the glasses up the bridge of his nose with a gloved forefinger, the smile has left his face entirely.
Stack: THAT’S VERY THOUGHTFUL OF YOU, RAY.
3. The other hand, sliding from the pocket, gripping something. 4. Pull back as Stack has a dart gun, something that resembles a cross between a paint ball gun and a squeeze bottle in his hand, firing it with his arms stretched ahead of him, in a two-handed grip.
Needle, falling away, clutching his pelvic area, the gun relinquished entirely.
Ray, folding over as he is shot.
Poke, aghast at what has happened.
Pull back as he lurches towards Ray’s revolver.
Upshot, the dart gun pointed downward, a gloved finger on the outside of the trigger guard.
Stack: DON’T.
Page 9:
Henry sat upright, broken glasses askew on his face, cradling his bag.
Text: NOW THAT WOULD’VE MADE FOR SOME DAMN FINE PHOTOS.
Stack, pocketing the gun, whilst Poke cowers at his feet.
Stack: NOW, I INTEND TO DIAL 9-11, WHICH IS PROBABLY MORE THAN YOU’D HAVE DONE FOR THIS MAN HERE, AM I RIGHT?
Poke, crying and nodding as he trembles at Stack’s feet.
Poke: PLEASE MAN, DON’T KILL ME, I AIN’T DONE SHIT TO YOU.
Stack, smiling kindly as he helps Poke to his feet.
Stack: YOU EVER SEEN ME BEFORE?
Poke: NO, MAN. NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE.
Stack: YOU KNOW WHY YOUR BOY RAY IS ACTING ALL SKITTISH?
Poke, shaking his head and hugging himself.
Poke: HEARD HE GOT INTO SOME SHIT WITH THIS WHITE BITCH IN TORRANCE, CLAIMING HE RAPED HER, BUT RAY SAID HE DIDN’T DO SHIT.
Stack: HE SAY HOW OLD THIS ‘WHITE BITCH’ WAS?
Stack one hand on Poke’s shoulder, as he looks him in the eyes.
Stack: SHE WAS YOUR SISTER’S AGE, POKE. HE FORCED HIMSELF ON HER, THEN HE CUT HER AND HE LEFT HER BARELY BREATHING. I KNOW WHAT YOU FEEL NEEDS TO BE DONE IF YOU ROLL WITH A CERTAIN CROWD, BUT…
Poke, his head bowed, as he looks disgusted. Tight head and shoulders shot here.
Poke: THAT AIN’T RIGHT, DOG.
Page 10:
Poke, looking up confused and disoriented as Stack helps Henry to his feet.
Poke: HOW’D YOU KNOW I HAD A SISTER?
Stack: I KNOW A LOT OF THINGS, POKE. I KNOW THAT YOU’RE NOT LYING THERE IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN BLOOD, RIGHT NOW…
Angle the shot so that we can see Henry holding his glasses as Stack turns to Poke.
Stack: BUT KEEP ROLLING ON THESE STREETS AND YOU WILL BE. GO HOME TO YOUR MOMMA, POKE. TAKE SOMETHING GOOD OUT OF THIS WHOLE SHITTY DEAL, ALRIGHT?
Poke, walking away, shoulders down back to his car.
The car, pulling away.
Stack, turning to Henry and smiling at him.
Stack: ARE YOU ALRIGHT? NAME’S STACK
Henry: HENRY. YES. I AM, AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO THANK YOU.
Stack: THERE A GOOD BAR AROUND HERE?


Page 11:
Establishing shot, a bar, somewhere cheap and cheerful but not entirely a dive of ill repute.
Drop the angle of the shot so that we are looking at a tabletop, a frosted pitcher, two glasses, both empty and an ashtray on one side.
Henry: THAT WASN’T THE FIRST TIME YOU THREW DOWN BACK THERE, WAS IT?
Stack: NO, CAN’T SAY THAT IT WAS. WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THAT ‘HOOD ANYWAYS?
3. Henry, raising a glass to his lips and smiling to himself as Stack lights a cigarette.
Henry: TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS OF GRAFFITTI TAGS, AS IT HAPPENS. AND YOU?
Stack: TRACKING DOWN A SICK RAPIST WITH THE INTENT OF CLAIMING A FAT REWARD THAT THE GIRL’S FATHER THREW UP YESTERDAY.
Stack, exhaling as Henry looks at him quizzically through his broken glasses.
Henry: IS THAT WHAT YOU DO?
Stack: WHEN THE OCCASION ARISES, YES IT IS SOMETHING THAT I DO.
Henry, sipping once again at his beer.
Henry: SO, WHAT DO YOU PULL DOWN ON THAT, AFTER TAX?
Stack: IT’S NOT ABOUT THE MONEY, TO BE HONEST, NOT THAT I MIND BEING PAID FOR DRAGGING SOME WASTE OF SKIN BACK TO JAIL.
Page 12:
Stack, pausing as he lights a cigarette, sucking up the courage to tell Henry about who he really is, he’s slightly turned away as he does this.
Stack: YOU’RE A JOURNALIST, RIGHT? IMAGINE YOU’VE SEEN SOME THINGS, YEAH?
Henry: YOU COULD SAY THAT, THERE’S NOT A LOT THAT CAN SURPRISE ME, I SUPPOSE.
Hold on Stack, as he looks at Henry over his cigarette.
Stack: SIX MONTHS AGO, I WAS THE SORRIEST PIECE OF SHIT YOU’VE EVER SEEN. A FUCKED-UP SKIN-POPPIN’ SKANK WHO SLEPT WHERE HE PASSED OUT AND STOLE WHAT HE COULD.
Cut to Henry, appraising him, looking for holes in his story already.
Henry: YOU LOOK REMARKABLY WELL, STACK. I’VE KNOWN PEOPLE ON BOTH SIDES OF ADDICTION, AND NONE OF THEM, EVEN THE ONES WHO SURVIVED, LOOK AS WHOLE AS YOU DO.
Stack: I COULD CLAIM ALL KINDS OF SHIT, BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM, HENRY—
Pan back to Stack.
Stack:--I DON’T REMEMBER HOW I CLEANED UP. AT ALL.
Page 13:
Henry, smiling politely.
Henry: EXPLAIN THAT.
Stack: LAST THING I REMEMBER, SHUFFLING DOWN SUNSET, LOOKING FOR SOMEWHERE TO FIX UP AND CRASH, GET THE TASTE OUT OF MY MOUTH—
Henry: NOT THAT MUCH DETAIL, STACK—
Stack: I TURN INTO THIS ALLEYWAY, SEE THIS DUMPSTER I CAN CRASH IN AND
Cut to a ragged, bone-thin junkie, who bears only the slightest resemblance to the present Stack, wreathed in a corona of white light as tesseract shapes surround him.
Voice (no tail): INITIATING PROCEDURE, PREPARATION STAGE ONE
Henry (no tail): AH, COME ON.
Henry, smiling, awkwardly as he suddenly seems uncomfortable, repaying Stack’s hospitality with his own incisive insights.
Henry: ALIENS TURN YOU FROM SKANKY MCSKANK INTO THE MARLBORO MAN? COME ON, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL HERE?
Stack, sat there, appraising Henry, not insulted or angry, as he slightly leans over the table, taking Henry in, breathing in his aura, palms flat on the table as he looks at him. Angle this panel slightly from the side, so that the perspective is slightly distorted.
Stack: NOT PULLING ANYTHING, HENRY. I HAVE SOME PROOF, NOT ALL OF IT HERE.
Henry: IS YOUR PLACE LINED WITH TINFOIL? FEEL I SHOULD, AT LEAST ASK THAT.
Close up on Stack’s eyes.
Stack: OK, I KNOW THAT RIGHT NOW, YOU’RE TORN BETWEEN GRATITUDE THAT I SAVED YOUR LIFE AND FEAR THAT YOU ARE TALKING TO A GENUINE NUTJOB. THAT YOU HAVEN’T CALLED YOUR MOMMA, EVELYN, IN OVER A WEEK BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY TO HER AND THAT YOU FEAR THAT SHE COMPARES YOU UNFAVORABLY TO YOUR ELDER BROTHER, RAYMOND, WHO WORKS IN INVESTMENT BANKING. HOW AM I DOING?
Page 14:
Henry, mouth agape, he’s been thinking that exact train of thought. A moment, a beat of silence.
Henry, draining his glass, eyes still bulging ahead.
Henry, slamming the glass down.(Have this panels form the top half of the page in a horizontal sequence, with the latter pair taking a widescreen approach)
Henry: MR STACK, I AM GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR SAVING MY LIFE, BUT THIS CONVERSATION IS TAKING ONE SEVERE TURN TOWARDS FUCKED UP.
Stack, lighting a cigarette.
Stack: IT’S NOT SOMETHING I ENJOY DOING, BUT I NEED SOMEONE TO BELIEVE, TO BEAR WITNESS.
Henry: WHY NOT JUST GO ON LETTERMAN OR SOMETHING?
Stack: BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE THE ANSWERS THAT PEOPLE WANT TO HEAR.
Pan around and pull back to encompass both men.
Stack: I KNOW THAT SOMETHING HAPPENED, THAT I HAVE BEEN GIVEN SIGNIFICANT ADVANTAGES TO SOME END, BUT I CANNOT SEEM TO PUT IT ALL TOGETHER, I CANNOT THINK AROUND IT, I CANNOT FORCE IT.
Henry: IT MIGHT BE SOME FORM OF BREAKDOWN.
Page 15:
Stack, looking slightly vulnerable.
Stack: COULD BE, BUT AS SMART AS I AM, I AM TOO CLOSE TO IT.
Henry: TRIED THERAPY?
Stack: IT’S NOT A TRAUMA, HENRY. IT’S A PUZZLE. I CAN FUNCTION, BUT I GET THIS FEELING THAT I COULD GET ALONG BETTER KNOWING MORE ABOUT IT.
2. Henry, shaking his head slightly dismissively.
Henry: STACK, IT MIGHT BE THAT YOU GOT YOURSELF FUCKED UP SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE, THE BRAIN IS CAPABLE OF ALL KINDS OF INVENTIONS.
Stack: SO HELP ME, OINK AROUND IN MY LIFE, AT LEAST GET A STORY THAT’LL MAKE YOUR EDITOR BLOW A FUSE.
3. Henry, smiling as he realizes that his journalistic instinct is being appealed to, here.
Henry: STACK THE PSYCHIC BOUNTY HUNTER, MIGHT PITCH IT AS A FUCKING MOVIE!
Stack: NAH, NOT THESE DAYS, GOTTA BE A REMAKE OR A SEQUEL TO GET A STUDIO INTERESTED. SO, YOU IN?
Henry, holding up one finger.
Henry: YOU GET ONE WEEK, I GET TO GO WHERE I WANT, WITH YOU OR WITHOUT YOU AND I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DIG UP. THAT’S WHAT SAVING MY ASS AND THEN GETTING ME HALF-CUT GETS YOU.
Stack: I’LL GET MY KEYS, NEED TO KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE ANYWAYS.
Page 16:
Establishing shot, Stack’s car with the two men in the front. In terms of what he drives, I envisage something modified to the gills, that isn’t about being visually ostentatious but certainly doesn’t come close to being something off of a factory line – tough and fast, designed for the street, be it a hot pursuit or a cruise. Certainly not a SUV or similar, it has to be an urban man car.
Stack: SO WHERE YOU LIVE?
Henry: NOT FAR, PULL OUT AND I’LL DIRECT YOU.
Flip to an overhead downshot as the car pulls out into traffic.
Cut to a through the windshield view, Stack is driving.
Henry: WHAT ARE WE LISTENING TO?
Stack: THELONIUS MONK.
Henry: YOU EVER LISTEN TO ANY REAL MUSIC?
Stack, smiling.
Stack: I TAKE MY MUSIC SERIOUSLY, HENRY.
Page 17:
Cut to behind the car, a black Lincoln, following them, an indistinct figure behind the wheel and a license plate that reads WH1TE.
Cut to Stack, looking in the rear view mirror, having clocked the Lincoln.
Stack: HMM
Henry, looking over his shoulder.
Henry: WE BEING FOLLOWED?
Stack (no tail): SOME NEW FRIENDS OF MINE, I THINK.
Pull back and drop to a slight downward angle as Stack turns the car right.
The Lincoln, following.
Page 18:
Cut to the rear door of the Lincoln, swinging open as it drives on, use speed lines to indicate the motion.
Stack, still checking the rear view as his hands grip the wheel.
Stack: OH SHIT…
Henry, looking ahead through the windshield, he’s seen something ahead.
Henry: STACK!
Big panel, in the headlights is a scarred, thuggish dwarf, wearing a black hooded top with a skull and cross bones across it, board shorts over steel toe capped boots. His eyes glitter coldly in the headlights and any visible flesh is striated with scars, a thin scrub of beard lies across his chin and cheeks. This is BRUTAL, one of the Seven, the agents of the antagonist who we will detail as time goes on. His arms are folded across his chest and he smiles coldly.
Page 19:
Cut to a side-view as the car stops inches from where Brutal stands, unperturbed.
Henry, stunned as Stack is moving to open the door.
Henry: WHAT IS THAT?
Stack: STAY HERE, HENRY. I GOT THIS..
Henry: I GUESS YOU WOULD HAVE.
Cut to an angled upshot, Stack looking over Brutal.
Stack: I THOUGHT THIS WAS DONE, B.
Brutal: SHE HOPED YOU WOULD RECONSIDER
Brutal, looking past Stack to Henry. Take this slightly from the side, in terms of body language, Stack is diplomatic, almost deferential.
Brutal: WHO’S THIS, YOUR SIDEKICK?
Stack: JUST A FRIEND, B. TELL HER THAT I CAN’T TAKE ANYTHING ELSE ON, RIGHT NOW, IT’S PERSONAL STUFF.
Brutal: WHAT’S HIS NAME?
Cut to Henry, looking out his passenger side window.
Snow: IT’S HENRY, ISN’T IT?
Page 20:
SNOW, if you’ve seen Angeline Jolie in Gone In 60 Seconds, it’s a shit film but she looks utterly incandescent in it, with the white-blond dreads set against her complexion. Use that as a reference, but shake it up a little. She is a Los Angeles fairy tale, there is something of the 40’s about her set against a gothic aesthetic, but she is a study in white and purity, a white gold nose ring, pearl lip gloss and eye shadow, emerald eyes that almost cut you to look at you. She wears a sheer white dress, under which we can see the outlines of tribal tattoos. You have to take the breath away, here.
Snow: I KNOW YOUR WORK.
Stack, turning on his heel, slightly perturbed as Snow has slid around to the front of the car, she has a beautiful back, all tone and definition.
Stack: SNOW, I THOUGHT WE DISCUSSED THIS.
Snow: WE DID, BUT I THOUGHT WE SHOULD TRY AGAIN.
Henry, looking concerned.
Henry: STACK?
A blur of motion, past Stack, blowing his hair up.
Brutal, squatting on the hood of the car, pointing a scarred finger and snarling at Henry.
Brutal: SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE!
Page 21:
Stack, looking over at Brutal as his back is to us, dancing a tattoo on the hood of Stack’s ride.
Stack: STEP OFF OF THE HOOD, LITTLE MAN.
Close up as Henry reaches for the glove compartment, whilst staring straight ahead at Brutal.
Text: I DIDN’T THINK, I JUST REACTED
3. The compartment door, flipping open as Henry’s hand darts inside. 4. Brutal, looking over his shoulder as he gives Stack the finger.
Brutal: GO FUCK YOURSELF STACK BEFORE I –
Page 22:
Drop back to a medium distance shot as Brutal is thrown off of the hood, three exit wounds punching through his back, his arms pinwheeling.
Henry, the revolver extended and smoke drifting from the barrel as he looks on, shocked.
Stack, removing his glasses, surprised.
Snow, face crumpled in rage and dismay.
Brutal’s surprised face, pale from blood loss
Henry, in close up.
Henry: OH MAN.a well-travelled path by Morrison and Ellis). One script was written, some art completed but the artist jumped ship.
The original concept was that Stack, descended from the legendary afro-american archetype of Stack-o-lee, had returned to the 21st century L.A., summoned by increasing despair and racial tension, herald of race riots and violence. The whole piece came from the p.o.v of a black journalist, who bore witness to the whole thing.

The script, too hastily written became a future thing, and I am looking to revise it into the original concept, make it more urbane and horrific.

Funny how

Time flies, but I am in a bit of a funk at the moment, usual money worries compounded by a big funk that means I haven't really written anything substantial and I am still waiting on something to come out, but it is a slow process and to occupy myself - I have been working out, eating right and getting rest, have really started making changes to my body, almost an act of transgression as such - but will blog more