M-m-m-music

I have to work, so this may well be brief.

Though the digital age is quite wonderful in the way it gives us high-definition Television and films on discs, I can't help but feel it has robbed me of something wonderful. As I have been so recently buried in the amazing new Gorillaz album and so have been attached to my trusty iPod at any time when not attached to my desk, a laptop or my girlfriend, I have been made aware of something that has seemingly gone the way of the dodo with the slow passing of both the Cassette and the Compact disc: the playlist.

Music has been in my life FOREVER. I have vague memories of the joys of putting my Dad's stereo on full blast, air-guitaring my 8 year old heart out to the joys of AC/DC, Pink Floyd and Status Quo, or sitting in the back of the car in a heady daze of melodies and licks as the car tape player ran through one of the infinite number of tapes my Dad made for the countless holidays to Dartmoor or, at more exotic times, France. As I grew up I would start to make up my own tapes, hovering eargerly over the pause button as each song drew to a close. And then shouting when I realised I'd timed it wrong and the song still had another choras repeat to go through. But I loved it. Playlisting became my craft. I would slave away at a tape recorder like Elves reforging a broken sword. And this continued, seemingly without end. But it seems I was wrong.

I don't remember the last time I made a playlist. Actually, it was probably the CD I made for my girlfriend as an attempt to get her more into music. I still wait to see if it worked. That my girlfriend is not as into music as I am may have a small part to play in my lessening playlist creation, but I think I lay the blame more at the rise of the mp3. My final attempt at installing a similar love of music into my girlfriend was the gift of an iPod shuffle. In one swoop I had eliminated the need for playlists and mixtapes/CDs. With the space on even the smallest iPod being enough to contain at least 100 songs and with the birth of "shuffle" on every mp3 player and CD player removing the need for any detail in a play order, playlists have become obsolete. I feel like a part of me has died.

You can, of course, build playlists for the biger iPods but it feels like cheating. Building a playlist for yourself is less special if you have all the music on your iPod anyway and it isn't like you can give it to anyone. Plus, what with the internet allowing us to get songs from any number of resources, people will just rather get recommendations and download them themseves. And so, for me and others like me; who would come to life making sure each song complimented the others and ran smoothly into the following track like it was properly mixed, there is no outlet to make our work worthwhile. The only thing I can think of is radio. But it's not exactly easy for the average person to get a radio show. And not that many people listen to the radio anyway. All there is left is for us to go unto the west; our work done and our usefulness spent, and fade into history like vinyl and affordable gig tickets.

(If you would like a playlist forged by a skilled music-elf; please send £2, or whatever you can spare, to The Grey Havens, c/o Elrond, via Rivendell, Middle Earth. Thank You)

A Query and a Qualm

I have already alluded to my regular travelling habits and how much they frustrate me, but I’ve never fully commented on the gripes I harbour as they are experienced. But, now I have my travelling friend (who I call Wallace, as the model name is, quite strangely, Eee) I am free to comment first hand on the tribulations that travelling into and out of the City of London hold for me.

Firstly, it is a really hot day. In the past, this heat has been tempered by the amazing air conditioning to be found on the c2c rail service that Essex has as its pride and joy of public transport. Sadly, since recently moving, I have had to resort to the more expensive, yet sadly quite inferior, National Express service into London as well as out of it and up to Cambridge. As such, I find myself in quite concerning temperatures with poxy little windows that allow for next to no breeze. You may be able to understand why this has perhaps affected my current outlook on life. But I shall persevere.

The main grief I wish to air through this entry is related to the nature of the other individuals forced to suffer the same fate as I. In the case of some, like myself, they seem to be travellers for the sport of it. Polo-shirted and baseball-capped, with a hint of old age about them, it is not unusual to find these people sat on trains. They, as such, bring me much joy. I turn my attention, instead, to the typical majority of train passengers to be found escaping London. Now, bear in mind that, at the time of my boarding the train, it was not even quarter to five on a Tuesday. And yet, as on so many other occasions like this one, a vast number of seats are taken up with aggressively groomed people wearing either: a shirt and tie, a suit or some female equivalent of professional dress. Hordes of them, on every single train from London, sat comfortably, half way through a paper with no apparent look of recent exertion, to the extent of looking practically restful. Well before five o’clock. So my question is this: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT AT WORK?!

I was always led to believe that work in the City involved working until five o’clock at a minimum. Bankers, Financiers and other economically working creatures that fester within the central City were cursed with an inescapable responsibility to be at their desks until the golden hour of Five. But no, turns out that; despite a huge global recession and a world economy on its knees, despite the hard-earned wages of teachers (no I am NOT biased) and nurses being diverted to assure banks could survive its own over-eagerness to throw more money than could be concieved by the human mind down the toilet, the majority of the bastards are now even having the cheek to skip out half an hour early just so they can get a seat on a train. And these people get bonuses?! For shame financial industry. Most jobs I’ve come across, skipping out early would be a small step towards the sack. So not only have they taken taxpayers’ money at an unparalleled scale, they are also cheating us out of our seats.

And, on top of this, these exploits all fall within peak hours for rail transport. Yes, it is the way of the railways as a whole to increase fares around the times that people go into and out of work. An amazing display of shameless profiteering, there. If only these increased prices actually went towards improving services, maybe I wouldn’t be so dismayed. Sadly, as mentioned previously, they really have not. I assume, therefore, that the reason that so many business people may be found skiving off of the last half an hour of their daily grind is so they can avoid the increased fares. So I beg the question, how can you warrant operating a peak time system if a huge number of people seek any way they can to avoid it anyway and when the peak times tend to mean overcrowding and so resulting in a highly uncomfortable journey? Sadly, I have no alternative, so am stuck putting up with this backwards business scheme until I can afford a car. But for those that can travel with alternative methods, it is hard to see why they should even consider using the trains with such poor conditions for consumers.

But as my journey comes to an end and the woman next to me finally gets off so I can stretch out my legs and have space to write, I can start to calm down. I will be home soon, where I can relax and put the inconsiderate wasters out of my mind once more. Hopefully, I may be able to dwell on more important or intellectual matters before long and write them down in a much more reasoned and balanced manner.

But for now, I hope the gits get what's coming to them.

On the Internet

Being unemployed (or technically self-employed, but at the current rate that my freelancing is going I may as well not be) and after three years as a student, I have had more than a lot of exposure to three distinct things: My bed, daytime television and the Internet. Or, more specifically: sleep, Top Gear and Facebook. Because there is only ever Top Gear on television during the day, to be replaced by Friends at about 6 o'clock. As such, it has often been that I turn away from the episode of Top Gear I have seen four hundred times before and check up on what is going on on the Internet, i.e. Facebook. And I have recently come to the conclusion that the Internet is a lie.

Apparently, I'm not alone. At a recent conference in Oxford to discuss the Internet, a Mr Zuckerman told what I assume was a packed audience that the Internet has not lived up to potential, that it has failed to bring the world closer together. Rather than being used as a tool to cross cultural and political barriers and create a highly cosmopolitan virtual world, what has happened instead is that more and more emphasis has been placed, thanks to the Internet, on restricting an outward view towards the world in favour of focusing more on local issues and cultures. What has cropped up, it seems, is a virtual apartheid, consisting of little pockets of web space taken up by a certain cultural demographic with very little interaction between them. From my own personal experience, I wonder what has taken him so long to realise this.

I don't know if it's just because of my limited outlook or creativity but my use of the Internet tends to consist entirely of reading comics, checking up on updates from BBC news and sport, playing a game every now and then and, most of all, checking Facebook for what everyone else is doing. Once in a while I may check Youtube for something interesting or for music clips but, otherwise, that's about it. Now as I said, this may just be me. I would personally believe that I am fairly curious but must admit to a lack of effort in terms of following most things up. When I do, it tends to be the Internet which does provide the answers to my queries. But I can't help but wonder how much this curiosity has been quashed by social networking sites. My curiosity is now more focused on how the people I used to know are doing or, since I am now on Twitter, what news there is on the work in progress for the new Doctor Who script. And social networking just gives us things. Links to videos, news sites or pictures of things happening. So the mentality has shifted away from "I should really find out what is going on out there." to "Why bother looking? It comes to me anyway." Obviously, this is not true of everyone, or there would be no links on Facebook but either way, this does definitely show a trend of voluntary isolation. People are content to see what is put in front of them, rather than find out what is out there.

There is a definite Internet society. Those who keep on the very pulse of the world and spread the word to all of us. The flash mob generators, the "meme" builders, who can take a strange, isolated piece of media and turn it into a phenomenon. But what benefit does this provide to the Internet as a tool for knowledge? How much do we gain from knowing that "All your base are belong to us"? Later in his speech Zuckerman pays tribute to those who, in China, take the effort to translate Western newspaper articles into Chinese so that the country may have some exposure to the world outside, presumably at great personal risk and then bemoans the lack of any equivelent within the Western world, bringing us the news from China. Instead, our concentrations lie on the exploits of celebrities, or capturing some slice of "legend" with a ridiculous internet meme. It is the lack of integration that has been the great failure of the Internet.

So often it is that I stare at my computer screen with an air of desperation. That I get so little from something that really promises so much. But is this the problem? We are given a way to learn anything we want. To pick from the eternal buffet of knowledge and delve into the wide, diverse world. How are you supposed to start? Where do you begin when faced with everything? To start with the familiar is the obvious first step, not because we do not wish to venture into the unknown world but because, quite frankly, it's hard to find things if you don't know what they are. Give the human brain infinity and it will explode. So we start at the familiar and hope something new crosses our path. And this is the internet now; waiting on social network sites hoping for some insight from those with different viewpoints. A world sitting around a virtual table hoping somebody else comes up with something good to say, whilst the kids run around everybody's ankles shouting incomprehensible nonsense about ceiling cats.

Zuckerman hopes for a reworking of the Internet with translation protocols and virtual guides that can direct people through things that are unknown. This sounds like he's proposing a TV travel documentary through the internet. Maybe Michael Palin is free. As for me, I think I'm just going to go outside more.

News news news

I figured people may be genuinely interested in what I have planned in the near future (I don't know why. But I've always been one for bouts of delusional self-grandeur) so here is a small cop out from writing an actual blog entry as to what is happening.

Some of the more astute of you may have noticed the new box to the right of the page. I just want to confirm that you are not going mad and it does say Twitter. I have joined the world of online celebrity stalking in a bid to make myself seem more of a celebrity (yep, more self-grandeur). But if you do wish to follow my everyday thoughts and movements, as well as keep an eye on the things that I find that make me laugh, then I think there is a link under the widget thing to my Twitter page.

Of course, as of now, the only people who read this blog have either known me for years anyway and have seen already that I am Twittering, or have come because they saw the link on Twitter anyway. So a small bit of "non-news" there.

"What else?" you may ask. Or more likely not. Well, in terms of my actual life, very little. I'm still trying to get a job in Cambridge (or anywhere vaguely linked to Cambridge as of late) but no-one is letting me in, so for now it's carrying on working for peanuts as I build up a writing cred.

I have access to an unbearably portable laptop now and, as such, will more likely than not be making it my own personal travelling companion until I stop needing to travel or I can afford to get my own one. What this means for the blog is uncertain. Either, I'll be able to work on blogging at a more regular basis as I sit and dwell on the nightmare that is National Express trains or I'll be distracted more and more from blogs as I begin to focus more on those stories I've been meaning to work on. Hopefully I'll hit somewhere in the middle.

My ideal plan is to take this blog a bit further. Try and get some regular things going. Maybe reviews when I can afford to buy new things. At the moment, I'm struggling to find things that I can write about regularly that would be interesting and I'm always open to suggestions. And I have also considered a webcomic, but my lack of drawing ability may be my downfall there.

So, to sum up, the news is essentially, I got Twitter. Whoo! Hopefully for the next time I want blog filler I'll actually have something of note to say.

I love you all.

Except you. You are just liked.

God Bless America!

I have a new guilty pleasure. I blame unemployment entirely, but it is here now and I think it may be to stay. It is a rather minor television programme, found all the way down the Sky Planner along with Homes Under the Hammer and the various channels that show nothing but World War II documentaries. On the Good Food channel, usually in blocks of two or more episodes at once, dwells a small televisual treat entitled "Man VS Food" and it is just amazing. In a country absolutely swamped by cookery programmes and exposés on food and eating on general, all of which tend to lean towards Michelin star style cookery, it is such a shake up to find a programme as completely insane as this one is. And who do we thank for this crude, nearly pornographic food adventure. Yes, of course, the Americans. And so I do now thank them from the very bottom of my heart.

The premise of the show is fairly simple: One man, one giant of a food warrior, traverses the huge stretch of land that is the United States of America exploring all that the nation has to offer in terms of eating establishments. The twist is that all the restaurants he visits are the kind of kitsch, fun-themed type places that America is famous for. And, as such, the food on order is less "haute cuisine" and more an experiment in testing the limits of structural mass. If you have ever visited the quite superb website "This Is Why You're Fat" (http://www.thisiswhyyourefat.com/) and perused through the gallery of delights posted there, you'll have a fair idea of the kind of food I'm talking about. Big, messy and probably lethal monuments of decadence, typically full of cheese.

Anyway, the presenter, Adam Richman, visits a few of these diners each episode, climaxing in an all-conquering gastronomic challenge and the basis for the idea of Man against Food. The dishes in question are either sickeningly large in size; such as the sixteen inch long, six pound burrito in Las Vegas, or are so hot they could power small towns; such as the "Fire in your hole" chicken dish from somewhere in California. Typically, these are accompanied with some kind of prize and honour and that's pretty much the show. A thirty-minute insight into middle America and the quite bizarre food practices that rage throughout the land.

So what makes this series so good? Aside from the comical foods that are uncovered each episode to a range of reactions from guilty salivation to straight out revulsion, it is pretty fun to watch the guy take on and struggle through these mammoth food challenges that are put in front of him each time. Also, it's nice to have really genuine approaches to how food should be. Regardless of how ridiculous the result, you do feel that, behind each of the "day-to-day" dishes that he introduces, there is a real connection to just serving food as what it is; a big messy luxury that should just taste good and be fun, as well as getting your money's worth, in contrast to the more refined culinary shows which often feel like they know what's best and that they need to tell us what is good. In a way, Man VS Food is more about how we should just enjoy food and not try and over think it, whereas more traditional cookery programmes are more of a battle as to making food be art, which it isn't, really.

But what I really find best about Man VS Food is that, in it's insane way, it completely captures the spirit of America. Where, on the face of it, you may just see an 20 foot long sandwich filled with 18 burgers, 30 slices of cheese, two types of bacon, half a chicken and a portion of extra spicy chili (I made this up, but it wouldn't surprise me if I saw it on there), if you look deeper, really deep, into what that sandwich is, you can see just what America is about. That sandwich is a symbol, an act of defiance against the perceived limitations of sandwiches. Against the perceived limitations of ANYTHING. And that's what America is. That's what the American Dream has always been. It is looking at what there already is and proclaiming, as loudly and, maybe, as obnoxiously as possible; "Fuck that! Lets make it eight times better and paint it bright neon and then make it fly!" That sandwich is America standing up to the world and telling it that, quite frankly, the world just isn't trying hard enough when it comes to sandwiches.

This becomes even more true with the food challenges we are shown. That there are so many episodes, each with at least one restaurant with a challenging food on the menu, shows that food challenges are part of the American culture. That every one of these diners has the belief that they need a beast of a dish so that they can stand out in some way from the rest of the world, as well as calling out the wannabe Food Heroes to prove themselves truly worthy. And I think this is just fantastic! There is clearly something insane about it, but the underlying driving force of it all is that desire to leave a mark; to have, in some small way, shouted out to the world that you were there. It's the mentality that built skyscrapers, put men on the moon, moved Chicago brick by brick and made a hot sauce out of a ton of Habanero chilies, chili flakes, Cajun spices and Ghost chili essence.

It's all insane. No-one would ever have thought to do things like this. Not many would even think they should be done. But, dammit, they did do these things. And they're proud of it and rightly so. Because any nation that strives to take the very perceivable limits of human ability and shred them into confetti, regardless of how impractical the result may end up, is gonna be onto a winner. So here's to the USA; you may make some completely bat-shit crazy food that I would never, ever want to eat, but damn if it isn't hugely impressive anyway!

Panic on the streets of bloody everywhere

In the daily course of my larking about in Cambridge, I often hear people screaming, "OH DEAR GOD SAVE US!!!" and I often wonder why. As they run; fleeing some as yet unseen menace, I do not notice any flames upon their bodies, nor do I see the swarm of giant killer bees that could evoke such a reaction. You can imagine my confusion, I am sure, at the sight of massed hordes, taking flight through such a typically peaceful city centre in such a wild and panicked manner. It is only when I spot the nearby newspaper that I begin to fathom the potential catalyst to such a betrayal of the typical English fortitude. For you see, it cannot be helped but to be noticed that there are an awful lot of newspapers who do try to maintain a rather dramatic license to their daily allotment of news stories. As if the sheer, cold, hard face of fact wasn't exciting enough, a story needs to have a chilling undercurrent, intended to still the very hearts of the stoutest of fellows and arouse much panic in the minds and bodies of each reader. And so, such mobs of people, turned child-like in their amassed terror, become all too explainable. After which, it is all too common to join them in flight.

But stop! Right now! No, not another step. Why do we cower in fright from this collection of typeface and photography. Surely, such terrors cannot be so. In recent times we have been invited to quake in huddled fright from the population of foxes, lest they stalk up to our doors and swipe the babes from our arms. But are we really in such danger from these urban beasts tat we should take up torch and pitchfork once again to drive them from this sainted Isle as did Patrick drive the snakes from Ireland. It seems a little rash. Never before have I seen any fox in mask and cowl attempt to steal upon every dwelling purely to feast upon the children that live within. Nor do I recall seeing any fox with the opposable digits required for successful operation of a door handle so as to achieve any such kidnappary. It is not really that often that I see a fox at all. So why panic? Surely, the recent occurrence involving this fox and these children is simply a freak one; exacerbated, presumably, by misfortune of the most extreme nature. So lets keep calm, have a cup of tea and make sure you don't leave your children covered with seasoning and next to any open doors.

But, seemingly, there is profit to be made in fear mongering. Let us not forget the ever organised armies of bacterium that reside for as far as can be observed by the human eyeball. Our homes will never be safe should we allow such microscopic invasion to go unabated. The only course of action is to buy all sorts of chemicals and solvents to wipe the forces of cellular evil from our surfaces and chopping boards. Damnedable bacterial scum. Trying to kill us with stealth and espionage and whatnot.

But wait. What is this now? Ya-kult. Yakult. I see. It's a health drink thing. Sort of like yoghurt. And it contains... bacteria? Well this is outrageous. Here I am buying all these volatile chemicals to keep my house free of the little blighters and here you are, trying to sell me a bottle of bacteria that I am supposed to just invite into my stomach. How very dare you? Say what? It's good for me. There are bacteria... inside me?! And they help keep me healthy. Well how can that be? Who am I to believe?!

This little dramatic piece was intended to show how the evolution of fear in the media can lead to confusion and inaccuracy. I hope that came across well. I did rather enjoy the bit with the bacteria. But to sum up, advertising fear is misleading. We have had years of cleaning products telling us that germs and bacteria need to be wiped out or we will suffer horrible, life-threatening illnesses when, in fact, without many germs and bacteria we would be in a lot more trouble. Bacteria help us develop a strong immune system and help us in our day to day lives in many ways but, thanks to these adverts, we have people that are afraid to touch anything for fear of contracting a disease that, quite frankly, is unlikely to strike you.

Although, you should obviously wash your hands after taking a dump. That's just common sense.