I don't believe in a god, but I have had religious beliefs and experiences in the past.
These beliefs were nothing to do with the few church visits I ever undertook in my youth. The only one I can actually remember is something to do with sticking a candle in an orange, and as powerful as that image was, it was never going to be able to sell the idea of an all pervasive creator. When I asked them, my parents let me know that they didn't really believe a dusty white Jesus was the son of God, and would have probably been pretty annoyed to know I was smacked round the head by the Halloween-banning harridan Mrs Blunston at first school, for not praying in assembly.
However, instead of being lured into one of the great traditional monotheism's, I somehow subconsciously created my own set of religious observances. Its tricky to quite remember why I started them, but I imagine that the natural stress and change that happens when you go to secondary school was probably the reason. It started out quite small, in the not particularly original (I'm told) manner of flicking the light switch on and off several times before going to bed. Starting with a few switches back and forth, after a certain amount of time this routine had built up to incorporate a rhythm and length that resembled Morse code, and then later, a particularly sparse drum and bass anthem. Sadly, I think I also unwittingly created the first follower of my religion, as I later sometimes heard my sister in the other room banging out a good break beat instrumental.
I think this rigmarole was down to a belief that it could help make the next day a 'good day'. I guess its similar to the observances of some professional footballers, with their lucky boots, or the way some touch the club crest as they run down the tunnel etc. Soon though, I moved away from the light switch and began following other faiths.
One year I bought a NBA basketball season preview magazine, a big compendium of all the teams in the League with masses of stats and facts. I think the day after buying it I must have had an amazing, supremely successful day, because I began a habit of needing to read it every day, in order to guarantee that I would keep having similar 'good days'. Luckily it was big enough that reading a page a day could last me quite a while. I think I gleefully bought the next seasons edition as some kind of 'New Testament', giddy with the life improvement this hallowed tome would bring me. To think of the advantages I would now have if something more useful than the Philadelphia 76'ers 1996-97 starting line-up was seared into my brain is slightly depressing.
A slightly more common set of 'good day' rituals were those that took place within the shower. For while most people have a routine (shampoo, conditioner, soap etc) I had several more possibly strange ones. For a good part of my early teenage life I was under the belief that washing your feet with your hands was a big no-no, reminiscent of Muslims not eating swine because its a dirty animal. This particular foible somehow outlasted my bizarre religious mindset, and it was only relatively recently that I began to question why I was still squirting shower gel onto my feet and doing some kind of strange shuffly dance move.
The point of this whole post is not just a glimpse into my hideously idiotic mind. Its not an attempt to sneeringly equate my previous weird peculiarities with the similarly weird, and often even more mindbendingly stupid practices of religions which go overlooked because 'they've been around for hundreds of years maaan, loads of people do them, and, like, you need to respect that yeah'. No. My reasons are that I have decided that I missed my calling in life. I was really on to something before, but my youthful innocence didn't capitalise on what I had found.
While I wont go into the full details of the 'Good Day' Book, I will say that everyone better start shuffling round their shower, and reading up on the Utah Jazz's rebounds per game count pretty quick, or they're going to be sent very sharply to the big light switch in the sky.
Thursday 30 April 2009
Monday 20 April 2009
Self Help
I am going to share with you one of my personal techniques for overcoming sadness/depression.
Take yourself way too seriously.
Admittedly, it probably wont work for many people, and I am in no way advocating acting this way all the time, just at certain times.
At certain times, listening to certain music. The technique I am describing helps alleviate that dark fug that sometimes descends, it increases creativity, and most importantly gives you perspective on your own life.
But its not pretty. Not pretty at all.
Below I will detail a band I might listen to, and the situation I might combine it with in order to relieve a bad mood:
Artist: Rage Against the Machine
Situation: Cleaning Bathroom
Not only does this combination always give me a new clarity once I have finished thrashing about with a sponge mop in my hand and allows me to laugh at myself, it also has the added bonus of making this irritating task infinitely more bearable! Once I have finished railing against 'the man', self righteously congratulating myself on really sticking it to him, and the unfair world I slave away in, I realise that I am in fact just a tit rocking out in a nice clean bathroom. All my problems probably aren't as big as the ones Zack De La Rocha is fighting against and I usually feel a bit happier because of this.
Here's another example:
Artist: Nirvana
Situation:On the bus
This one is really great. Not only are Nirvana really good for getting that huge, angsty serious feeling going, letting me properly feel that its 'ok' (and in a fleeting, stupid, childish way 'cool') to be a bit down and unhappy, but they also enforce the idea that, hey, at least Kurt managed to get out of bed and do something with his misery, so why can't I? A brilliant combination, especially when its added to travelling on the number 38 bus, where everyday its possible to see that there is much more to life than your tiny, insular world, and a lot of people have it way worse than you, you pompous little prick.
Lastly:
Artist: Ice Cube (specifically the song 'When Will they Shoot?')
Situation: Walking to the Market
I doubt there are many people in the world who can directly relate to the tough talk of Hip-Hop. Not many people have the mindset that would allow them to say:
some niggaz
think cause I ain't killed a nigga this week
that shit is sweet
Fuck around, you'll be dead in the street
and actually mean it. Come on...... killing someone every week?
Which is why Hip-Hop is perfect for a bit of escapism. The Ice Cube track 'When Will They Shoot' is perfect for the purposes I have been describing. Juxtaposing the paranoid and slightly arrogant idea that 'they killed JFK in 63/so what the fuck you think they'll do to me?' with my Saturday morning walk to get almond croissant is a great way to feel energised, pretend I'm a tough militant rapper, but at the same time reinforce the reality that I am actually a white English fop, off for a treat that you possibly couldn't get if you were caught up in the L.A riots of '92. On another note, I don't really know why I particularly like the lyrics 'White man, is somethin I tried to study
But I got my hands bloody, yeah' but I would be very interested to know what it says about it me.
So the whole theme of my theory is : Listen to music in situations that help you forget your problems and think about other things, other people, being someone else, and doing something creative. If this means you pull stupid faces, mouthing inappropriate lyrics whilst scrubbing your sink slightly too hard, then so be it.
Take yourself way too seriously.
Admittedly, it probably wont work for many people, and I am in no way advocating acting this way all the time, just at certain times.
At certain times, listening to certain music. The technique I am describing helps alleviate that dark fug that sometimes descends, it increases creativity, and most importantly gives you perspective on your own life.
But its not pretty. Not pretty at all.
Below I will detail a band I might listen to, and the situation I might combine it with in order to relieve a bad mood:
Artist: Rage Against the Machine
Situation: Cleaning Bathroom
Not only does this combination always give me a new clarity once I have finished thrashing about with a sponge mop in my hand and allows me to laugh at myself, it also has the added bonus of making this irritating task infinitely more bearable! Once I have finished railing against 'the man', self righteously congratulating myself on really sticking it to him, and the unfair world I slave away in, I realise that I am in fact just a tit rocking out in a nice clean bathroom. All my problems probably aren't as big as the ones Zack De La Rocha is fighting against and I usually feel a bit happier because of this.
Here's another example:
Artist: Nirvana
Situation:On the bus
This one is really great. Not only are Nirvana really good for getting that huge, angsty serious feeling going, letting me properly feel that its 'ok' (and in a fleeting, stupid, childish way 'cool') to be a bit down and unhappy, but they also enforce the idea that, hey, at least Kurt managed to get out of bed and do something with his misery, so why can't I? A brilliant combination, especially when its added to travelling on the number 38 bus, where everyday its possible to see that there is much more to life than your tiny, insular world, and a lot of people have it way worse than you, you pompous little prick.
Lastly:
Artist: Ice Cube (specifically the song 'When Will they Shoot?')
Situation: Walking to the Market
I doubt there are many people in the world who can directly relate to the tough talk of Hip-Hop. Not many people have the mindset that would allow them to say:
some niggaz
think cause I ain't killed a nigga this week
that shit is sweet
Fuck around, you'll be dead in the street
and actually mean it. Come on...... killing someone every week?
Which is why Hip-Hop is perfect for a bit of escapism. The Ice Cube track 'When Will They Shoot' is perfect for the purposes I have been describing. Juxtaposing the paranoid and slightly arrogant idea that 'they killed JFK in 63/so what the fuck you think they'll do to me?' with my Saturday morning walk to get almond croissant is a great way to feel energised, pretend I'm a tough militant rapper, but at the same time reinforce the reality that I am actually a white English fop, off for a treat that you possibly couldn't get if you were caught up in the L.A riots of '92. On another note, I don't really know why I particularly like the lyrics 'White man, is somethin I tried to study
But I got my hands bloody, yeah' but I would be very interested to know what it says about it me.
So the whole theme of my theory is : Listen to music in situations that help you forget your problems and think about other things, other people, being someone else, and doing something creative. If this means you pull stupid faces, mouthing inappropriate lyrics whilst scrubbing your sink slightly too hard, then so be it.
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Monday 6 April 2009
change
When I was about 17, three of my strongest beliefs were that;
a) Hip-hop would always be my favourite music,
b) I would never wear trousers that weren't baggy,
c) I would never grow my hair beyond half a centimetre.
So this morning, I stood in my bedroom thinking "was that really me?" as I tossed a pair of jeans into the bin that weren't tight enough, before going to my girlfriends mirror to effetely blow dry my hair. It also seems weird that my current tastes in styletwat indie music, and trousers that make me look like a barrel balanced on cocktail sticks will eventually cede to some other set of similarly stupid looks/interests.
Being as most people mellow, and become more interested in things that are less edgy/aggressive/hard-line as they get older, I'm pretty glad I started out being into the stupidly aggravational world of Hip-Hop. Regardless of the mindless idiocy, fake posturing, and often swaggeringly bad music of most of the genre, at least i can count myself lucky it will be a while before I reach the logically polar end of the spectrum and start liking the Lighthouse Family. If I had started out at 14 liking the music I'm into currently, who knows where i would be now? Probably eagerly awaiting the new Mr Hudson, or The Fray album. A scary thought.
All this thought of change was put into perspective as I read about the principle of constant renewal put forward by computer scientist Steve Grand. It goes something like this:
Think of a memory from your youth. Now consider that almost every single atom that was in your body at that moment, has by now been replaced by a new one. Our bodies are constantly renewing and rebuilding our bodies, and studies have shown that every year we replace 98% of our body mass.
We are mostly made up of water, so statistically there will be some water molecules that are the same, but its still a crazy thought. Now if I can just get the funding to show a direct correlation between this process and our constant march toward total mediocrity, I might be able to find a way to reverse the tide!
a) Hip-hop would always be my favourite music,
b) I would never wear trousers that weren't baggy,
c) I would never grow my hair beyond half a centimetre.
So this morning, I stood in my bedroom thinking "was that really me?" as I tossed a pair of jeans into the bin that weren't tight enough, before going to my girlfriends mirror to effetely blow dry my hair. It also seems weird that my current tastes in styletwat indie music, and trousers that make me look like a barrel balanced on cocktail sticks will eventually cede to some other set of similarly stupid looks/interests.
Being as most people mellow, and become more interested in things that are less edgy/aggressive/hard-line as they get older, I'm pretty glad I started out being into the stupidly aggravational world of Hip-Hop. Regardless of the mindless idiocy, fake posturing, and often swaggeringly bad music of most of the genre, at least i can count myself lucky it will be a while before I reach the logically polar end of the spectrum and start liking the Lighthouse Family. If I had started out at 14 liking the music I'm into currently, who knows where i would be now? Probably eagerly awaiting the new Mr Hudson, or The Fray album. A scary thought.
All this thought of change was put into perspective as I read about the principle of constant renewal put forward by computer scientist Steve Grand. It goes something like this:
Think of a memory from your youth. Now consider that almost every single atom that was in your body at that moment, has by now been replaced by a new one. Our bodies are constantly renewing and rebuilding our bodies, and studies have shown that every year we replace 98% of our body mass.
We are mostly made up of water, so statistically there will be some water molecules that are the same, but its still a crazy thought. Now if I can just get the funding to show a direct correlation between this process and our constant march toward total mediocrity, I might be able to find a way to reverse the tide!
Saturday 4 April 2009
Total Wipeout
Just about to watch Total Wipeout on BBC 1 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO3-sXF5VhM). Along with Motd, its the only thing I really bother to go out of my way to watch on telly. Its the closest legal alternative we have to the Colosseum. Its set in a world where everything is soft and bouncy, and watery physical endangerment is never far away. Its kind of like experiencing what the life of a skag head tramp living near the Thames on a Saturday night would be like.
Seeing people get flipped by the sweeper is amazing, seeing them hit their head on the podium on the way down is even better. I revel in the violence. Its just a shame its hosted by the occasionally funny, apparently horrible in real life Richard Hammond. He doesn't spoil it, I just cant help but think about the burning hate and disgust that allegedly lurks behind his cheeky, charismatic eyes, as another mechanic from surrey face plants into a huge rubber ball.
Seeing people get flipped by the sweeper is amazing, seeing them hit their head on the podium on the way down is even better. I revel in the violence. Its just a shame its hosted by the occasionally funny, apparently horrible in real life Richard Hammond. He doesn't spoil it, I just cant help but think about the burning hate and disgust that allegedly lurks behind his cheeky, charismatic eyes, as another mechanic from surrey face plants into a huge rubber ball.
Il Divo
Watched the new film by Italian director Paolo Sorrentino the other day. Il Divo follows one of Italy's most infamous politicians, former Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti, in a kind of fictional retelling of a period of his life. My feelings about the film are much the same type of feelings I have when watching a David Lynch film. It doesn't feature dwarfs talking in reverse, but had similar aspects that reminded me of how it felt to watch the grey quiffed genius's work.
It has the brooding, teetering on the edge of madness atmosphere, the odd, socially awkward, slightly grotesque characters, and most importantly, a plot where I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but loved it all the same. Il Divo has none of the deliberately abstract content of Lynchs films, and I'm sure if I went and researched the messy world of Italian politics I could probably understand what was happening, but it didn't bother me too much, I understood the main subtexts it was trying to convey; Italian politics were severely corrupt, were based around constantly changing social allegiances, everyone is only out for number one, and that Giulio Andreotti is a mysterious, strange, charismatic schemer of Machiavellian proportions.
Tony Servillo, the lead actor is worth the admission price alone, his odd, mannered performance has been likened to a Nosferatu type figure, in a political horror show.
It has the brooding, teetering on the edge of madness atmosphere, the odd, socially awkward, slightly grotesque characters, and most importantly, a plot where I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but loved it all the same. Il Divo has none of the deliberately abstract content of Lynchs films, and I'm sure if I went and researched the messy world of Italian politics I could probably understand what was happening, but it didn't bother me too much, I understood the main subtexts it was trying to convey; Italian politics were severely corrupt, were based around constantly changing social allegiances, everyone is only out for number one, and that Giulio Andreotti is a mysterious, strange, charismatic schemer of Machiavellian proportions.
Tony Servillo, the lead actor is worth the admission price alone, his odd, mannered performance has been likened to a Nosferatu type figure, in a political horror show.
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