The Graduate

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It’s hard to imagine The Graduate was filmed over fifty years ago. Not from watching it, clearly from the setting it is the sixties but I’ve never thought of it as an old film. Perhaps that is more an indicator of my age but 1967 was another time to now. I tried to imagine whether they could make this film now in a contemporary setting with a contemporary audience but I doubt it would work quite so successfully. How it would be done, how they would show a rebellion from another age is unclear but I can’t imagine a similar film being done in such a style, or at least with such style. The sixties cinema influenced by French avant-garde. All those wonderful little camera angles and intense close-ups. Would a modern audience accept such styles of film. Probably. I enjoyed it. But we’re told they wouldn’t so I guess they wouldn’t.

It’s not exactly a risqué story line, they are all consenting adults, but it kind of is as well. Even for this modern open and enlightened audience I somehow feel content talking on behalf of. Perhaps it’s risqué because it is done so well that it feels real. The older woman and younger man is still not a socially accepted concept. It’s also stilted and a little strange, but in a way that makes it even more real. These are people who see an emptiness with their lives. Mrs Robinson because she’s in a loveless marriage and she gave up her career and passion for the arts to raise a family and Dustin Hoffman’s character Benjamin Braddock because he doesn’t relate to the world his parents inhabit and expect of him, but more importantly the world society expects of that generation. While he appears deeply unhappy, the truth is he’s simply deeply lost.

There are many iconic films which represent periods in time and generational change. The Graduate doesn’t seem like one of those films people use as such an example. Perhaps it’s the knowledge of what was coming next in the late sixties and into the seventies, the cultural changes which were about to come. Had we not known in what general mood the film was made our understanding of Benjamin Braddock and Elaine Robinson, the daughter, as they elope at the end may have been different. It is unclear whether it is a happy ending. Are they happy? They have what they want yet they still don’t seem happy. It seems like a challenge to traditional cinematic romanticism too. They’re still searching for answers to questions they don’t know yet and love doesn’t quite answer them. In a way I wonder if they represent the beat generation of ten years earlier, or at least my idea of them. Before everything became about love and flowers, when everything simply felt wrong, empty and pointless. It may be the perfect film for modern audiences after all.

Incidentally while I watched it I couldn’t help but think of Wayne’s World and was overjoyed that the scene in Wayne’s World Two when Wayne is banging on the church glass balcony shouting “Cassandra!!” down at the wedding was directly taken from The Graduate. While some films make subtle references there’s nothing quite like comedies ability to make full blown parodies.

An Ancient Foe

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The humble mosquito. What a remarkable creature. I once made a deal with them on an infested coach journey in Thailand that if they left me alone I would them. It wasn’t until three years later when I was in Spain that I broke the terms they had stuck to. Ten years later and the war has become one of attrition, both sides too caught up in their base instinct for survival.

I find them fascinating creatures. They have brains and they can sense, smell and see. They are attracted to the carbon dioxide we emit as well as the heat of our bodies. I discovered a long time ago that having a cold shower stops them coming so much. Them coming being hunting of course. We are hunted. They may be small but they hunt us. I wonder if they hunt other animals. I assume so, they can’t just be after us even though we do have such easily accessible and soft skin. Yet they keep coming even after we have killed them and I imagine other animals would be far worse at swatting them. They may have brains but they must be small. Saying that they’re sneaky and they can get places you can’t imagine possible. Tonight like the last few nights, despite closing everything there always seems to be more. I wonder if they come in during the day and just wait.

When I lived in Athens I had a net around my bed. I couldn’t have survived without it and wondered how my flatmates who didn’t could sleep while also having their window open because of the heat. My wall was splattered with dead mosquitoes. It was my trophy wall I like to believe was a warning to others. It didn’t seem to work. That old familiar buzzing in the ear. Yet there’s never anything there when you turn around or turn on the light. Was I imagining it? Am I going mad? Yet we eventually see them and those ancient instincts rise to the surface as our eyes lock on the target and the battle begins. The traditional hand clap or if patient enough a wall slap.

When I lived in Lesvos the ceiling to my room was so high they worked out they could just hide up there and they would be safe. Eventually my old school changing room training kicked in and I realised I could whip the ceiling with my towel. When in Nepal I would pull my sheet up to my head and when I could hear them close would slap the side of my head to get them. While this was ridiculous for the obvious reasons it wasn’t until one day I forced one deep into my ear by the force of the air. The beating of it’s tiny wings like a marching band on my ear drum. The only solution being to pour water in and drown it. The next day in the lake it finally washed free.

The real moment of truth comes when they land on you. Do you quickly go for the kill or do you play the long game. The mosquito lands on your arm, it’s still looking around unsure whether it is safe to proceed. Rubbing it’s back legs together in delight as it eyes up it’s meal. So you wait. It tentatively tests the surface, look close enough and you can see it jabbing around with it’s microscopic needle for the perfect spot. You watch and you wait. Even once it has found where it will eat and has made it’s incision you still wait. Let it get those first mouthfuls of your blood. Let it relax. But still wait. Only once it has had it’s second taste, only once it has become docile and drunk on you do you reclaim what is yours with ease.

Yet I respect them. They keep coming. They’re like the ultimate predator, or they would be if you viewed them all in their entirety as one sentient being. Because they seem that way sometimes. It seems sometimes like all those years ago I broke a deal with that one sentient being and am destined to spend eternity paying off the reparations for my treachery. Well so be it. Let the war go on. We have nothing left to us now anyway but our base instincts. Why not let them play out.

Painful Consumption Experiences

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There’s a things in marketing called paying for painful consumption experiences. I heard about this for the first time a few days ago and it refers to things like boxing, triathlons or climbing. They’re not always pleasant and we potentially suffer pain when we complete them. From a marketing perspective it would be why people are willing to pay for these things and how to make them do it. How can you convince someone to not only participate in something that will leave them in pain but actively give you money to inflict it upon them.

When we think of it that way human behaviour can be bizarre. What it does suggest is that our everyday existences lack something so basic and necessary that we will go to extreme lengths to achieve it. It isn’t that we need to experience the sensation of pain, it is the affect upon the human body that experiencing this sensation has. Can we really compare sitting in an office all day or working in retail or whatever average job we may have, to being out hunting an animal for food to survive. Can we even compare it to working in a factory during the industrial revolution. The point is that after thousands of years of feeling the intensity and adrenaline of daily survival we’re now living such safe lives that we actively go out in search of this feeling our bodies have ordinarily been experiencing all these years prior. We need it. But why?

Anyone who has done something extreme like a boxing match, skydiving or climbing a rockface will tell you it makes them feel real. It makes life feel real. They know they’re alive because they feel true existence in that moment. Partly they’re finally there in the present moment. Your head cannot be in the clouds dreaming about the future, the past or dinner when you have to be fully focused on simply getting through that moment. No wonder people hunt out that feeling. You don’t get that punching numbers behind an office screen all day, and I don’t say that critically of punching numbers it is simply an example. The truth is not everybody wants a painful consumption experience. That is also fine.

But why pay for it. Surely we could just go out and swim across the nearest lake or create our own version of these extreme survival things in the nearest woods. That involves effort to set up so it is probably a bad example but there are plenty of extreme things we can do without feeling the need to pay for them or be manipulated by marketing. We put a certain type of value on things when we pay for them. In a way that is how we can create value. If it isn’t handmade or has some emotional importance the likelihood is the other determining factor is a financial one. This is society and this is how we have become programmed to get things. If we want it we pay for it. If we want adrenaline, we’re likely going to find something we can spend money on that will give us that feeling. The marketers understand. They understand us better than we do.

An Ideological Art Attack

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Starline Social Club in Oakland has gone up for sale. I have never been to this venue, and likely won’t ever set foot in Oakland let alone this club. I only know it is up for sale because it’s sale was shared by a friend of mine on Facebook. Why this is worth mentioning is because it is yet another venue in the long list of such places that have already closed and others that will. Pubs are struggling but can invariably stay open. Numerous clubs, live music venues, theatres to name but a few examples are likely to go bust if this continues much longer. People’s safety must come first of course and a solution without some kind of financial assistance is far from clear. What the arts do need though is some kind of support.

Rishi Sunak the British Chancellor recently suggested that artists and musicians who couldn’t find work should retrain. There wasn’t any suggestion that they should be supported through this crisis, they should simply become something else. Here he is below doing his best impression of Will from The Inbetweeners.

He may as well have just uttered the ‘get a real job’ statement because clearly he was thinking it. Who needs artists when they can design images for adverts or musicians when they can be creating songs for adverts or playwrights when they could be writing scripts for adverts. How is capitalism going to function successfully if people refuse to exploit others.

More concerning is how this is playing out in the culture wars. I read recently that while the right won the economic war, the left won the culture wars but clearly both are still being doggedly fought. It is telling though that if you were going on probable likelihoods, the arts would predominantly be a theatre for left wing ideals. Are we seeing right wing governments in both Britain and the US intentionally allowing the music and arts scenes to go bust. Is this lack of support and funding simply an ideological attack? It doesn’t need too much of an imagination to make that leap. How better to attack your opponents by watching them struggle, hindering their chances of attacking you in the future.

There is one thing they seem to miss though. You can lose clubs, theatres and art venues but people will always be able to find a way to express themselves. If you try to take away their means of doing so they will simply come up with other ways. They are creative, they will be creative. And most importantly by attacking this scene they are simply entrenching anti-Conservative or anti-right wing capitalist ideals for at least another generation. People don’t forget. If pain brings out the creative, the grassroot streets are going to become a scene of colour before too long.

Boris Johnson’s Dystopian New Jerusalem

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As Boris Johnson talks about building a ‘New Jerusalem’ I remind myself of any dystopian story I have ever read. I’m not sure I want to be part of his New Jerusalem. Anyone professing to be the architect of a new society makes me instinctively cautious. Someone with his track record for incompetence and general indifference to the wellbeing of the populace is someone whose Jerusalem reeks of inevitable failure. These are the type of people who will hoard the lifejackets as the ship sinks, or who in actuality are already hoarding the lifejackets as the system sinks.

I haven’t been getting caught up in cries of fascism and autocracy by the state but this lot in power at the moment are not playing by the rules of old. If they were anarchists decentralising and creating community I would be fine with it but when they’re right wing wannabe despots in the making it is more concerning. Teachers can’t teach about anti-capitalism anymore. The police have been given draconian powers to enforce their will on the people. Powers are rarely given up once they’ve been received. The opposition exists in name only. There are real and concerning things going on in the UK at present. Once we leave the EU this power grab will only be intensified.

Talking of the ‘opposition’, only twenty of them, one of whom was Jeremy Corbyn, voted against the Covert Human Intelligence Sources Bill. Officially this “authorise(s) conduct by officials and agents of the security and intelligence services, law enforcement, and certain other public authorities, which would otherwise constitute criminality”. In layman’s terms the state and it’s enforcers are now above the law. Effectively this allows the government a license to kill whoever it deems a danger to it’s existence. The US and Canada have similar laws but they specifically exclude certain crimes like murder and torture. This one rushed through Parliament omits such exclusions. Remarkably the bill extends these powers to various government bodies such as The Competition and Markets Authority, The Environment Agency, The Financial Conduct Authority, The Food Standards Agency and The Gambling Commission.

The bill allows for state actors to break the law in three scenarios – in the interests of national security, for the purpose of preventing or detecting crime or of preventing disorder and in the interests of the economic well-being of the United Kingdom. What is clear from this though is the ambiguity involved. ‘Preventing disorder’ seems as all encompassing as ‘breach of the peace’, what exactly is classed as disorder? And someone can be killed to protect the economic interests of the UK. Does this mean I can sign up for the police and kill the leaders of Brexit? But seriously if we think of the new teaching rules on sugar coating capitalism and then this, it’s clear who and what this mob represent.

Former Tory leader and Brexit Minister David Davis and former Tory Chief Whip Andrew Mitchell have even called the government out on there being a “whole series of weaknesses in (the bill), which at the end of the day will impinge on innocent people” and on the dangers of “granting such powers in a free society” respectively. Human rights groups such as Amnesty International and Unions such as Unite have also heavily cautioned about the dangers involved with passing such legislation. As ever the media have been silent. Not even a mention of Keir Starmer whipping his MPs into abstaining against the vote. Love or loath Corbyn, at least he was a man of integrity and one who actually acted as a real opposition. Like I said, I don’t usually get caught up in genuine despotic outcries but this is concerning and this is a system looking increasingly less capable of maintaining and standing up for itself by the day.

The Mountaintop Party

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Well Thessaloniki was fun. I met up with my mate, met his family and reconnected which makes the trip worth it alone. It was touch and go for a bit as someone at his work tested positive for this virus but he was tested that same day I arrived and came back negative. It still seems bizarre to not be able to see people without worrying about this illness. We can add that to the long list of things Covid has affected. As well as that, as yesterdays post made clear, I went partying on Saturday night with two people from the hostel.

It was a small party at the top of a hill somewhere outside of Thessaloniki. We were so high that we could see the clouds below us in the morning. We got there in a taxi by following a guy we met in a bar. These types of parties are notoriously difficult to find and I felt a little sorry for the driver as he wasn’t expecting a trip on dirt roads up a mountain. He was also not keen on leaving us randomly in the middle of nowhere up there at two o’clock at night. We danced and had fun, and everything that is involved in such events. In the morning as the sun rose I saw the scene around me and the most remarkable set of people. It was like everyone who couldn’t normally be free had turned up and danced away in the dark. There was no one set type of person and probably about two hundred people so it was small. I’ve avoided too much detail but I spent as much time fascinatingly people watching once the sky was lit up as I did dancing and running around. These were not your average colourful trance festival people but it seemed more like the hardcore inner circle.

As the light came, the water ran out. With our dry mouths we attempted to get down the mountain before it got too hot. One of my new friends needed considerable convincing we were real but eventually we persuaded her to come with us and down the mountain. If we had waited much longer and without any liquid in that heat we would have missed all the potential lifts down and suffered under the Greek sun. Genuinely it felt quite serious at one point but we found someone who got us back. An accident on the small roads back made us follow a farmer over the most random series of dirt track back roads but eventually we reached Thessaloniki and our beds. It was intense and utterly memorable. I had fancied a party like that for a while especially after such a long time in lockdown and any real excitement. If you’re going to do it then do it properly it would seem.

Thessaloniki

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Ah Greece how much I enjoy your company. It turns out my hermit life at the edge of a boat yard in Preveza is not representative of my usual time here. When with friends it wouldn’t be a crazy statement to suggest there is nowhere better. I’m probably thinking all this at this level of joy because I’ve just been off for ‘lunch’ and that means eating and drinking and beginning at 4pm. While there may be elements of Greek life I struggle with – usually anything outside of the pleasure factor – this is one of my favourite things in the world. The food is usually simple but good quality and that really is the secret. The beer doesn’t have the depth that we have back home but it’s usually hot and the beer refreshes so it is perfect. The wine would be the same. It really is good to catch up with old friends. It makes it hard to leave but maybe being able to leave and then come back is the secret I’ve missed all this time.

It’s a nice place Thessaloniki. Greece’s second city with a population a fifth of the capital and equal the Birmingham’s, it doesn’t feel like a city in the way either of those do. More relaxed, and while there are hectic spots you can escape them. Athens always felt constant, although maybe I just didn’t look hard enough. Last night I wandered around the streets a little, had a beer on the street and realised I was still doing the same thing I was doing when I was twenty-four. Ten years later drinking on the street still has its pleasures but there are moments I feel a little old for it. That is probably because I am a little old for it. Still it’s always good to know I can.

I’m going out for a beer now with some folk from my hostel. I am still twenty-four staying in youth hostel dorms yes. My friend who acts his age has gone back with the family to do father things. There are elements I envy about such a life but there are still many I enjoy about mine. Being able to go out for a beer is certainly one of them. So that’s what I shall do.

On My Hols From The Safety Of My Hole

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I’m off on my holidays today. Going to Thessaloniki for the weekend. I’ve been there a couple of times before, usually passing through but not really seen the place that much. I’m not entirely sure what there is to see to be honest, or what state of lockdown they’re in. I suspect not at all but I’ll know when I get there. The main plan is to visit an old friend who’ve I’ve not seen for a few years since the heady days of the refugee crisis. Unlike most people who came over he stayed and I think runs a women’s shelter in the city. I’m not entirely sure though but I don’t doubt I’ll find out.

It’s good catching up with people though. I enjoy it. When you create bonds for whatever reason, as long as they’re positive, you should make sure to keep them as strong as life allows. And of course life happens, I’ve met many people who I’ve struggled to keep in contact with beyond the first or second attempts but you just never know when the third will be. My time in Greece is specifically about fixing up this boat I’m on but I know I will see people while I’m here and this is exciting. My next city trip will be Athens but it may have to be slightly longer than two nights.

It can involve effort going places though. I arrived in Greece exhausted from months of insanity and this boat at the end of the yard has been a nice little hole to hide away in. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to leave, it is safe here and I can continue hiding away. It can be hard not to listen to this feeling, especially as it’s currently raining outside and my instincts tell me to hide away in the shelter of the boat. At some point though we need to step out of our safe hiding spots or the world and life just passes us by. Saying that, maybe it’s just a sign that I need to stay hidden a little longer. I may need more time for myself but it’s only two days and I still have the best part of two weeks before my self-imposed moving on deadline becomes reality.

Anyway, I should have probably left about an hour or two ago. I was going to avoid the toll roads and add two hours to the drive, I enjoy scenic routes and feel taxes should pay for roads. The rain doesn’t give the feel for a lovely scenic drive though and I may just have to dip into my pocket to save two hours. I’ll let you know how I get on.

One Day At A Time

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As some may be aware I am currently in Greece and for the last few days the idea of where I will go next has been on my mind. The exact details of where are not important, that isn’t going to be the point but more everything that goes into making these decisions. In the past I have stressed about where I will go next and over the last ten years there have been a lot of ‘nexts’. As I’ve got older these have evolved from thinking it would be pretty cool and exciting going somewhere to viewing a place with eyes aware that I may settle there. This idea of settling somewhere stresses me out. It influences my decisions massively and it shouldn’t because so far I haven’t stayed in any of these places but also because it’s completely pointless overly concerning yourself with such an unknown.

The problem with this particular unknown though is that it is enormous. When something is enormous we are bound to become overwhelmed by it and allow it to take over our minds completely. Of course you can’t pick somewhere based upon your entire future, it’s an impossible decision to make, too many unknowns and you’re not only choosing an idea but arguably a fantasy. Everything has to be a one day at a time thing. Right now spending too much time thinking about something like this is a waste of energy because you’re currently doing something else and if your mind is absorbed with a future fantasy then you’re not being present. You’re not doing what you need to be doing and you’re not giving what you should be focusing on the time and energy it deserves. Life inevitably starts passing you by as you’re never there to see or experience it.

There is one other slightly unrelated part but I have in the past thought I should return to cold northern places, like Scotland, because we need a little misery and suffering to appreciate real life. Appreciate in the sense of understanding and thinking but I suspect that misses the point. If you’re Nietzsche perhaps this makes some sense but his reality was only one version. The great thinkers so engrossed in the inevitable suffering of existence weren’t all Scottish, Scandinavian or German. The idea then is can you have fun in the sun while at the same time comprehend the pointlessness and absurdity of life. It does conjure up a strange and amusing image. Perhaps you would start comprehending life through a different lens. Maybe all Nietzsche ever needed was to take up windsurfing.