The Motions

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And having ploughed through one surmountable challenge I am left with another, a challenge which this time I am unsure I can conquer. Is it time to attach a negative prefix, sadly it just may be. For today…drum roll please…I am hungover. Totally hungover to the point where my little noggin throbs. Why have I done this to myself I may hear you asking. It may be worthwhile skipping back a few posts and highlighting that I have already touched on the idea that we love doing things which are self-destructive. For today I am but half a man and unfortunately while this man may have maintained his discipline by sitting down in front of this laptop and pressing buttons, he refuses to partake in much thought. The moment I let myself down and go through the motions. Today is a sad day.

One particular plan I have is to write a few pieces and have them as backups incase it is impossible for me to write something one day. The chances of it being impossible are slim lets be honest, I can always find an hour spare at some point in the day if I really try. However imagine I am at sea sailing and I go nowhere near land for three or four days, without internet, oh the horror, I will be powerless. I think there is a handy function on here that allows you to automatically time when pieces are publish so I can set them up for a few days and they will publish at the same time each day. That is a justified reason but there is always the chance I will cheat one day when hungover or don’t find the time for one excuse or another. That is a cheat, being at sea is not. Next weekend I am not at sea but genuinely may not have the time, that is a dilemma. It is also worth pointing out that in the introductory piece I intentionally said I would publish a piece everyday and not write one and while I have broken my own self-imposed rules by writing more than four hundred words a few times I am loathed to not write on certain days through laziness as it defeats the point in this exercise all together.

So thats it. I’ve gone through the motions and I have my four hundred words. Have I achieved something. Only time knows the answer to that question.

An Existential Nature

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First surmountable challenge…my laptop isn’t working. It is fixable which is why it’s also surmountable but in the meantime this is being written using a phone. Expect lots of error and a lack of flow, it’s good to get the excuses in early. The question then is whether that is the kind of person I am, someone who’s a waster full of excuses or someone who never let’s an obstacle prevent him reaching his goal. There may be more but these are two ways of looking at this, presupposed narrative will play an enormous part of which one you think I am. What kind of character you think I have will have potentially already been decided before you’ve even finished reading the sentence. What though is it that leads us to seeing events through whichever prism we have been programmed to look through. Are we who we are because of previous events, similar things which we experienced in the past and played out a particular way, our subconscious now presupposes every event similar will play out the same way. Alternatively is how we view this something innate within us, dare I saw, where we born that way. Importantly too, ‘we have been programmed’ already implies an assumption of sorts and it would be worth mentioning how that sentence was toyed with before being settled upon.

John Paul Sartre may not be seen as the father of existentialism but it isn’t too far fetched to refer to him as it’s most famous and important proponent. He believed existence precedes essence, simply put we create our own character through our experiences and our actions, and are not born this way. To put it crudely would be to hurtle into the frame of nature versus nurture. What happened in my life then that led me to feel the need to qualify what I was about to say with an excuse on the off chance that what was to come would in some ways not be to the required standard. Have I failed too often in the past, do I lack confidence or self belief, have I learnt that over explaining everything is necessary, am I in some perverse way just too polite. On the other hand Scorpios don’t try anything unless they know they’re going to succeed, perhaps that was a way of preempting failure. The Chinese Ox just plods through and gets on with it, perhaps the laptop issue was nothing more than something to be plodded over. Really though who knows, ultimately which ever way you lean on this particular issue has most likely already been decided in your mind long before you started reading this.

Tomorrow

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The challenge of an experiment or a learning experience, or whatever is best to describe my attempts at learning discipline and practising writing at the same time, is that there will be days when nothing really comes to mind about what to talk about. There is a list of things written down in a notebook somewhere, a notebook unfortunately out of reach in the next room, on various topics that could be worth writing about. This list was written down about six months ago though when the idea of writing this first arose and bar What would Henry Rollins do no other topic on the list comes to mind. That is however not the point because so far nothing that I have written about has been from any list or pre planned. That may be pretty obvious, mostly each piece seems off the cuff and I have preferred that to planning as seeing something evolve organically is enjoyable, and let’s be honest having a little ramble for four hundred words is far less effort than writing about a particular topic.

Do people enjoy reading a little ramble that’s the thing. There are plenty of blogs, opinion pieces or editorials in which if you look carefully it is pretty clear they’re not much other than a little ramble dressed up as serious journalism. Todays piece certainly doesn’t even reach those levels as it threatens to drift off to sleep in the gutters of nothingness but that doesn’t mean it’s existence has no value. We never know what is born out of any event, cause and effect if you will, it isn’t alway the moments which appear great that holds a true sense of enormity in a lasting sense. Sometimes things are born out of the most inconspicuous of events and this may just be one of them. It equally may not, that is for future us to discover. What is clear though is that if every moment has the possibility of creating something whose significance is not immediately obvious, then we should not dismiss any moment. Another way of putting that is that we could attempt to be conscious of all we do at all times. Be the Buddha, be enlightened he says, be human also but don’t dismiss something because on first glance it appears to hold no immediate value. Today though, the task of rambling with an obvious conclusion is complete, but we never know what tomorrow will bring.

Sin

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There is one thing we all have a tendency to do in life and that is things which are not good for us. Perhaps some of this was covered in Coffee or was supposed to be but there is not always a cohesion between the initial idea for this and what it evolves into. Currently my eyes are struggling not to feel heavy, my back is slouched and my belly is bursting. I ate too much for dinner. I knew as I piled the food on to my plate that I had too much and while on some occasions the realisation that the sun would likely rise in the morning with me still alive to witness it, and therefore need another meal to sustain me, would result in me taking what I needed and putting aside for the next day what I don’t; tonight was not one of them. What was clear was that I had too much food and I knew that but I did it anyway and as I ate I experienced the uncomfortable sensation of overeating. I didn’t stop.

Over the years I have heard various suggestions on what is enough food for someone to eat. They say your mind does something magical and will help your stomach to adapt to what is on your plate, seconds are therefore not advised as the stomach is not prepared. They say the stomach is the size of your fist. They say you should fill your stomach three quarters and leave the final quarter for air. They say a lot. Ultimately we instinctively know what is too much, what is good or bad for us, but we embrace what will damage us anyway. I read once that a lack of sleep can lead to us making bad decisions and one thing highlighted was food. When we are tired we crave foods we may not if we’re fully rested. My diet is not bad, if I am tired I do sometimes crave junk food, importantly I don’t believe that is because I’m feeling lazy to cook properly. That also doesn’t mean it is down to a lack of sleep though. Regardless I, we, know better. We know we are killing ourselves yet we do it anyway. Death by gluttony, it’s a real thing check it out, one of only seven authentic ways to die of sin apparently.

Coffee

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The time is 17.09 and I’m drinking a coffee. I enjoy coffee, sometimes I really enjoy it and most days it’s the thing that quietens the screams, makes me feel normal again and allows me to start the day. One liberating moment in life is the one in which your ego gets kicked in the balls as you realise you are not unique, there is with certainty at least one other human being, most likely about one billion, that does, thinks or enjoys the same things as you. In the instance of my relation to coffee the one billion number seems inadequate, because – standing up in the circle – I am an addict. What is interesting with this though is that circle contains over seven billion people because I guarantee there is not one person on earth who is not addicted to something, whether that is coffee, heroin, sugar, running or self-deprecation, everyone out there has that something that makes them feel normal again.

Of course I suspect I know little about addiction in general and mean not to offend as this is understandably an emotive topic, but I have my own observations of myself and although that is only one reality, it is not always easy to go on anything else. There have been times when I have had addictions to cigarettes and considering the fact I crave them for a moment as I think about this it is perhaps the case that addictions never really leave you. Renton certainly said something along those lines about heroin. Then there have been times that I’ve just needed a beer but I wouldn’t say I’m an alcoholic. Part of that necessity was possibly the sugar in the beer or dehydration, but it could very easily have been the habit of consuming that beer be that after work or by the beach on a hot day.

A friend of mine goes to the pub most afternoons and drinks three or four pints but he very rarely drinks anywhere else. He told me once that having grown up with parents running numerous pubs it was more the environment he was going for than the alcohol. After spending a month hanging out with him, it became clear that this repetition was habitual as much as anything else. If changing environment changes habits and is recognised as a way to get over certain addictions, then there must be a link. Is addiction nothing more than habit, our habitual response to a perceived need in the moment.

Perhaps this is common knowledge and I’m just catching up. Perhaps I’m oversimplifying a complex issue. But perhaps we should start focusing more on our habitual responses and we won’t simply find a new thing to be addicted to every time we overcome the other.

Politics

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Ideas come and go throughout the day but as quickly as they go through one ear and into the brain they have a habit of going straight out the other and out of the brain frustratingly soon after. Instead because it seems to have taken over our social consciousness recently with Brexit and now with the general election looming, perhaps before this thought escapes through the exit ear, politics could be worth a little mention.

There was a time when I referred to football, which I am a big fan of, as having evolved into a soap opera for men. Of course now with women’s football increasing in popularity and inevitably one day in quality, as well as women’s participation in the spectacle as a whole, there are certainly some who would class that statement as outdated ignorance. However I stand by it not on grounds of being a stubborn petulant absolutist, but on grounds that the real number of women participating is still most likely lagging far behind traditional male participation, assumption I know, and not that they don’t exist of course but that I am yet to meet a woman who actually really enjoys football, potentially ignorant to believe my bubble of existence is representative of the whole world perhaps, but I don’t give a shit because not enough has changed yet for me to feel content drawing conclusions that it is anything but a soap opera for men. Let’s leave why actual television soap operas are therefore for women for another time. Anyway the point of that tangent and it’s overly qualifying nature is firstly that discord involving something that may offend seems to automatically need qualifying and because it leads into another grossly generalised example of ignorance by suggesting politics is just a soap opera for bossy people.

I have my beliefs and I love to believe they are enlighteningly maleable but inherently they’re probably not. I will however take great pleasure arguing with and attempting to change the minds of other people to believe what I think and therefore do as I do. I am not alone. My manipulated little mind is as lost, confused and scared as all the others out there trying to convince others of something so that we ourselves can relax safe in the knowledge that the little realities we have created are correct and therefore safe. But like any soap opera it is anything but real and with excitement and verve we are going to spend the next three weeks lost in a world of confirmation bubbles and blinding illusion as we vote in the fella offering us nothing other than a different quality of lubricant for the giant dildo they are about to shove up our arse.

Podcasts

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My podcast addiction began about a year ago when in a quest to know more stuff I got a little hooked on BBC Radio 4’s In Our Time. It at first felt a little intellectual but now just feels like our levels have morphed. Yes our brains can evolve given the chance. However about six months ago I decided it was time to branch out. I threw myself right into the bear pit and grabbed ahold of what I thought was going to be an ideological nemesis in Joe Rogan, and yes depending on his guest he can come out with all that America is Great guff that nobody outside of America takes seriously, and has a total misunderstanding of what Antifa is which explains why he is placed in the bad man box by some. Saying that, having explored a few anarcho-podcasts, all of which were American, they are not only annoying in the way they express themselves but seem to come from a completely different dimension to what I have experienced or witnessed in Greek, Italian or Spanish versions of the antifascist movement. It pained me but left me sympathetic to Rogans ignorance and also aware that I too am probably ignorant in this debate in my own way.

Generally, it appears podcast guests are trying to push something, and tend to be inspirational or at least give off the stench of such things through their success in something. The Great Henry Rollins who would surely hate that title and who deserves it all the more as a result is worth a mention, as is Dr Christopher Ryan who wrote a book called Sex At Dawn which I won’t read because from research I discovered many accusations of cherry picking findings that discredit its academic legitimacy. However, his approach to life and the message he is trying to get across in his podcast Tangentially Speaking are excellent and absorbing, and although I have met quite a few versions of him over the years and probably have been one myself, now is not the time to hold anything against anyone especially someone who I enjoy listening to so much. Henry Rollins will get a whole blog piece to himself in the future. Current events in British politics have had my ear recently and it has been interesting listening to shows from all sides of the spectrum, from left wing to mentally challenged. Either that is a great example of how much access we have to differing views or simply highlights how polarised we have and can become, but this too is perhaps for another time.

Like easily digestible books for the modern age we want everything to be simple and immediate. Coupled with the fact we’re all too busy and scared to have an actual conversation with anyone, it allows the feeling of being part of someone else’s. Like every narcissistic egomaniac I now want and believe an audio version of my many misunderstandings is exactly what people need. It may require some guests though and may have to be over four hundred words, but then this already is…oops.

Sunday

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Start with a wild assumption. For us Brits there really is something special about a Sunday. God’s official day of rest apparently and the one day of the week his minions get to join him. While the internet is a source of any fact desirable, accurate or not, the ninety seconds I half-dedicated to discovering the exact number of people not resting on Sundays wielded nothing, which means two conclusions can be drawn from what I have learnt so far. One being that people work on Sundays and two that I won’t be applying for any research positions anytime soon. From experience I can tell you there was a shop open this morning providing the newspaper to accompany my post-taking-the-dog-for-a-walk coffee. In that case while myself and God chilled out this morning, some of his devoted subjects, a certain number according to the internet, didn’t. Can we in that case really call it a day of rest? Is there such a thing anymore? Has there ever been?

A few years back I remember reading one of those ‘We’ve never had it so good…‘ articles which described the average work week of the average Victorian. Naturally any genuine point is long gone from my memory but as is the done thing I’ll paraphrase the ridiculous attempt at linking another time to the present with whatever my mind has made up about it since. Victorian workers used to work twelve hours a day seven days a week, or was it fourteen and six, but none the less they seemingly worked more than they didn’t. We are therefore lucky, don’t know how good we have it, should be grateful for being allowed the existence we’ve been gifted, and rude and ungrateful for desiring anymore liberty in our lives than we have been granted. That reminds me of a George Carlin sketch about rights, and I won’t quote him, more continue paraphrasing; they aren’t rights if they can be taken away and then something else which tied it all together and made it funny. But hopefully you get the point I’m very lazily attempting to make.

What a memory and work ethic I don’t have. Definitely not going to apply for any research jobs. I would never have survived in Victorian Britain. Anyway, isn’t it wonderful how technology has freed the people from drudgery and toil…I asked the lady as she gave me a newspaper in exchange for a handful of new gods.

Discipline

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What an interesting concept discipline is. Some of us, such as myself, have spent our entire lives without it and avoiding it too, or at least avoiding the harder elements of a disciplined life. Certain things such as having fun, partying, going cool places, having interesting conversations – you get the point – have been embraced with the most intense of disciplined behaviour. The discipline however that has seemingly lacked existence is the one which has involved effort like concentrating at school, studying at university, exercising at always, writing this post today. And it may still be today in a way as the day is not over but it is after midnight, although not everywhere, there will never now be an indexed post for Saturday 16th November. There will however be two on Sunday 17th and who gives a shit really because that is fine. While there may not have been a written rule on Day One, there was always an unwritten one in my mind, but again who really gives a shit. This is a process, and processes are long and full of fuck ups on the way. It is just unfortunate that the first one occurred on the second day. 

It is also a shame to be writing this so late at night because in truth I had been looking forward to it all day and was genuinely busy for a large proportion of the day. Not all the day though and that is the thing, discipline isn’t just about being hard working and full of will power, it’s about recognising the best time to complete a task and the flexibility to take the opportunity whenever it arises. There is no specific moment to suggest, more that as long as you’re not genuinely doing something else, the moment the thought comes to mind is the best moment, the moment you think is the moment to act. Perhaps that’s the secret to these psychopaths who just seem to be doing things nonstop, those who do not have the ability to think ‘fuck it I’ll do it later‘.

In that case I’ll flip it on it’s head, how utterly blessed I am to not feel the need to constantly act and respond to life’s many little supposed necessities. How people must be so jealous of my ability to sit down, drink some tea and put it off until later. Now that is some serious discipline.

Day One

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Downloaded LibreOffice, check it out and give them a donation because they’re open source and that is really cool. Wrote my first words. This is finally happening and it’s only three or four months (six) after the original thought bloomed and died away with nothing more than a whimper. The question is whether an ill disciplined reprobate can learn discipline, be creative and actually have some fun at the same time. Firstly fun is entirely choice and mindset, this task is impossible without creativity and discipline is well, that’s the hard part.

But what is all this, why are you reading this drivel?! This is not a secret experiment and you know what, I suspect nobody is ever going to even read this first page. I am going to write one piece a day, or at least I’m going to publish one piece a day, for an entire three hundred and sixty five days or one year, whichever comes first. The piece can be on anything, politics, philosophy, my day, football, how the reflection of the light on the chair reminds me of scorched desert sand, a poem on frogs, anything. There will be days when there is nothing to say but something must be said and there will be days when I can not stop expressing thoughts, emotions and ideas so say I will. Along with one piece a day, the only rule set is that each piece must be within ten words of a total four hundred. Perhaps in time the within ten words part will be revised but for now that is a start. The four hundred is inspired by a philosophy magazine entitled Philosophy Now, well worth a read, if a little academic sometimes, which has a question and answer competition on a philosophical question every two issues. The maximum word count is four hundred which is short and achievable but a quite challenging quantity in a way; too short for a ramble and too long for a quick thoughtless answer. My one previous attempt will not be printed here for reasons of pride. All future ones will.

And why will nobody read this first page? Because this blog will only be published for the first time on Day Thirty-One so as not to embarrass myself with wild promises that amount to nothing more than four days of effort. This blog has to be earnt.

Friday 15th November 2019