This made me think. The film - The Great Dictator, made in 1940, by Charlie Chaplin. The famous slapstick and comedy writer. A little bit of background research would tell you that he was advised against releasing it - a satire on Adolf Hitler. The film itself is hilarious, as only Chaplin can be. But it is the speech at the end that truly made me think. Today, Europe doesn't really suffer under the wrath of a tyrant, but people do, somewhere in the world. I used to believe in the old system, purely because I thought mankind was only good for that. It could not do better, we are all wrong, we are all selfish. I am starting to think I'm wrong. Am I no longer a cynic? Balls to that, cynics get the best jokes. But freedom is something every single person should have, but they don't. They don't because they are different, they are poor. They are black, white, christian. Muslim, Jewish, anything. Humanity and there will never be anyone like the next person you see. You walk down the street and the person you first see is the rarest sight - you will never see anything like them again. We preserve species because they are unique and rare - why not preserve eachother? Not for the good of a 'race', for the good of 'all'.

On recent events.

No, this isn't a rant. I wish to express something about this weeks events. What we saw in Oslo and Utoeya was the worst kind of tragedy. The man, if we can call him that, dealt an unforgettable hell to all of those people, both on the island and in the capital and yet the Norwegians did not respond with cowardice or hatred but merely promised that they will become a more tolerant and open society. To me, personally, this tragedy has really affected me. It happened in a country I could possibly call my own, in and around a city I grew up in. One of the most beautiful countries in the world fell victim to a horrific act, by a hateful person.

I feel for every single family who has lost a relative, everyone who has lost a loved one. There's not much more I can really say, words don't seem to be enough, but I am thinking about them.

Completely unrelated fiction.

An idea shamelessly stolen from a good friend of mine - her blog is here.
Except, this uses classical figures!

The first to enter the cramped and dusty pub is a resplendant man, shining in golden armour with a billowing red cape. His hair is neatly trimmed and yet he looks twelve. Due to the absence of a beard probably. Sitting at the barstool, he orders every drink in the house, downs them all and mutters something about conquering the known world before dropping his spear and mentioning how his father, Philip, did nothing for him. And then, suddenly, a collection of strange looking Greek and Macedon hoplites, all unshaven, come in and surround him for no apparent reason. He decides that the table by the window is his and they all enter a phalanx, Alexander mounts his horse and charges towards the seat. In the pub.


The next to enter is no less resplendant and strangely similar, he'd been watching the young Macedonian through the window and decides to charge a table by the door, occupied by some long nosed Italian looking men, all neatly ordered and clean. Pyrrhus takes some burly yet stupid Greeks charge, fall over and all seem to die or lose limbs for no apparent reason. Yet the older Greek of Epirus takes the table, declares victory with his one remaining man, heavily wounded and screams triumph, staring and the frightened and embarrassed younger man by the window. 


The door burst open, and Hannibal enters, with a carved elephant and screams at the Romans sat at the bar, whom he decides to enter a barfight with them all, managing to outmatch and beat them all - until they decide to chase him down the road, where he hides in bins and skips, beats the hell out of them and flees again. Then a bald headed Roman, named Scipio decides to step out the way and kicks him in the side and the bearded man flees. Looking pleased with himself, he walks into the bar and the other Romans chase similar looking beardmen down the road with bins. 


A slightly chubby Roman - Pompey - enters after the bald one, followed by Crassus, clutching gold coins and Julius Caesar in military dress, balding with a hawk like nose and the ever loyal Marc Antony following him. In his arms, a beautiful Queen, Cleopatra - but he fails to notice the Legionnaire grabbing her backside though. Following but avoiding them, Cicero, an older, wiser man enters, sits at the bar, speaks for what seems to be hours in a strangely stirring manner until he finally drinks a ton of gin, speaks some more and begins to write, a clutch of wig wearing Americans, French and English liberals surrounding him, copying and screaming in his direction. 


The bar erupts! Caesar has started a fight with the barman! Pompey enters, punches Caesar but Caesar sends him flying out the window. Crassus, however, had drowned himself in cheap golden alcopops. The bar is Caesars! After several hours of nothing happening, a load of men, one of them talking to Marc Antony about breasts, all jump Caesar and stab him. Then a young man named Augustus calmly enters, decides the bar is his, wears a crown - proving it is and shoots the men who stabbed Caesar. He then chases Marc Antony and Cleopatra down the road with a stick, until they both jump in front of a bus. Returning back, he sees Cicero dead - but he looks like he's still writing.


Augustus renames the bar and nothing really happens.

Don't take me this way

It's sometimes when I wonder why exactly I'm a misanthrope - or rather, try to be.
People, however. As a collective, as an entity are stupid.

Example: Someone who is insecure about themselves and their family life and decides to pin everything on their friends thus making their parents hate said friends. Or rather, make it seem apparent that they do. It's frankly ridiculous.

Of course, their are some exceptions and they know who they are. But still, people are dicks.

Isn't humanity wonderful? Nah. I'll tell you what is wonderful.

Coffee and a certain person who seems to surpass humanity in her existance.

Headlights on the hillside...

Some call it a gift - the ability to read another. There are somedays when I see this apparent trait as one. But, in reality. It's just guesswork and paranoia. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

I admit my flaws more readily then others, in fact - I hardly have anything but flaws to say about myself at all. Negativity and pessimism are second nature to me. If you're reading this and expecting some blog post about how I'm going to change this, jog on. My pessimism is my shield and my negativity is my armour. I can't possibly change these, they define and control me to the point where they are second nature.

Perhaps I'm just too comfortable in my whirlpool of despair and self loathing. Perhaps my strange undefinable complex is just...who am I and that others who constantly ask me to be optimistic should just go away.

'Always look on the bright side of life' is a good song, sure, but the only time I'd look at the bright side is if it was a fire burning my home to pitiful cinders.

What a happy post.

Back to Joy Division!

Anything Goes?

As many an old timer goes - “this modern music these days is just noise”. Of course, not all of us lived in that wonderful era of music we call the 20s - 50s, a time of Cole Porter, Buddy Holly, Bobby Darin, Muddy Waters and many more amazing musicians. Most of us who read this would have grown up in the Nineties, a decade ravaged by bad Euro-pop and Geri Halliwell wearing the Union Flag. But the nineties are also known for Radiohead. Blur and thus Damon Albarn, the resurgence of British icons such as Paul Weller and Morrissey oh and Oasis, for those imaginative souls out there…

But the ‘Noughties’ as those with no brain call this era is a time where literally, anything goes. Good song writers who once knew better lines now only four letter words when writing songs. Music has become an industry of faux advertisement and cross platform promotion for media. The most obvious example - Justin Bieber, is a young pop icon who probably does not write his own material, sing using his own voice or play any instrument. But no one takes him seriously as an artist. As a product, he sells like wildfire. His record label know this and he has hit the target market massively and there are many more of this gone and buried and even more to come. But this decade has spawned some utter genius. Bands such as Mastodon, an American progressive metal group continue to prove that uniqueness and talent are very much alive - their album Crack The Skye is a musical masterpiece. It also saw the resurgence of folk in the brilliant band Mumford & Sons, the Britpop scene coming back (did it even die?) with Kasabian, Muse and the utterly unique and unquestionably awesome Gorrilaz.

The music industry may be a corporate machine akin to a man pushing people through a sausage machine and feeding it into the minds of more meat filled talent less souls, but a lot of the bands around are utterly genius. All one needs to do is look beyond the mainstream charts.
Looking at a song on you tube?
Go click that random band on the related videos and listen. If you don’t like it, click again. You might find something you’ll enjoy. And they might turn out to be your next favourite band. Music is not about the same old band over and over again, it is about experimentation. Stick with the old yet learn from the new.

"The World is your oyster."

Above is a cliched statement. Many were probably told this, but I surely wasn't. People are told by their parents that they can do great things, that they are special. That they have the power to do amazing things. (I wasn't, but eh is not being disillusioned a problem now?) The key to this is simple. You are born, you go to school, you go to college, you go to university. You get a job. People try and escape the system but ultimately they can't.

You can't just leave university and do something amazing. Well, not strictly speaking, you could do but the majority of the time, no you're a generic student who drinks lots and has a degree and no idea what to do with it. Maybe you'll attempt to fulfil your dreams.

When I was growing up, I wanted to be many things. A dinosaur, for instance. A spaceman. A soldier, a Space Marine, an officer, a lawyer, a detective. Indeed I'm still rather childish about the whole thing. No idea where I'm going.

But at the end of the day, regardless of the endless institutions and drawn out paths. The world is your oyster. Work hard and you can do amazing things. I don't get those with no motivation, the lazy ones with no attempt to make a future who believe they are doomed to work retail. Work against it, study, do projects, anything.

Spend hours designing that subspace laser cannon. Then you'll get noticed.

"We're going to do this forever, aren't we?"

History and fiction are all full of stories of great men and great enemies. Conflicts between two men or women of such greatness that they sound only true in works of fiction - and in some cases - they are works of fiction. Holmes and Moriarity, Batman and the Joker, Superman and Lex Luthor, Barney the Dinosaur and Adolf Hitler (okay this one isn't true but eh, somewhere on the internet there probably is a picture of Barney battling Hitler).

But history has produced some fantastic match ups, ones produced which creates such fantastic conflicts and match ups. Wellington and Napoleon, Scipio Africanus and Hannibal Barca, Montgomery and Rommel and many more. All of this epicness regarding people and arch enemies makes me want a nemesis. A comical one whom I battle on the back of speeding trains or on the wings of biplanes. Man that would be awesome.

It was just a thought, though....