At the Sign of the Potter's Wheel

Well…we seem to have intermission conditions imposed on us here. Which is timely because, nine months and seventy thousand words later, this thing has become difficult to write.

Most of the things I want to say are like playing cards that I attempt to assemble into some kind of structure, only for the whole damn house to collapse. Normally I would wave it away with a simple “to hell with it” but this time the problem is persistent and difficult to ignore. Even my introduction today is rotten because it breaks the largest rule I have imposed on myself…so we will cower in the shadow of this intermission and hope nobody asks any awkward questions.

I still have time to write at work but the writing can only reflect what I am thinking about and being exposed to at the time. And my recent thoughts have not been ones about which I feel like writing. Trivial thoughts, thoughts about my future, uncomfortable thoughts about bombs… the ground here is not fertile.

Ah, to hell with it. We can shift this blockage if we try hard enough…I just need to hold my nose and blow hard, ignoring the sound of blood vessels bursting in both ears…

The true purpose of the intermission, though, is to accommodate the holiday I have coming up, and perhaps a couple of weeks off will keep the fire from going out…or at least keep a candle burning in the window. In the meantime we will use intermission conditions to our advantage, to forget about current affairs and making points, and just throw a list or two around.

Hmm, well, what about the rules I mentioned earlier? Perhaps this would be the time to twirl the lasso and rope the bastards in. Starting with…

1. Most importantly this is an ongoing collection of plain and simple writing. The act of “blogging” is irrelevant; it is a means, not an end. Therefore, posts about weblogs, “blogging” and the “blogosphere”, or posts containing nothing but internet links, have no purpose here.

2. My intention is to approach writing each post like an article or a feature. This is not a diary, unless I have a point to make that happens to utilise the form.

3. There are already too many identical swear-filled rants on the Internet. I am not going to fake anger for the sake of it.

Well…that was hastily cobbled together from the scraps that exist in my mind. But the irony here is perverse. I have never written this ruleset down before because I cannot post the damn things without breaking the first rule…and I know what I want from this exercise without needing to set it in stone.

Standing to attention the whole time, though, wearies both body and mind…a little time spent at ease can do us all the world of good. Even so, I cannot shake off the feeling that, after posting this, I will wake up the next morning feeling cheap, dirty and used. Still… at least Chlamydia is out of the question.

Indeed, but something still feels wrong. Even allowing for the freedom we have under intermission conditions I feel that I am letting in daylight on whatever thin shards of magic exist in this place. So we will finish with a quick cultural snapshot before going to ground.

Book: The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler. A famous book in Hollywood for its daylight / magic interface, but a useful glimpse into the structure of mythical storytelling. Initially it seems to prescribe a straightjacket to your stories, but it draws on a deep well of classic mythmaking that makes sense and cannot easily be dismissed.

TV: House, starring Hugh Laurie. A show that Hugh Laurie towers over so imperiously that any faults crumble to dust in his shadow. He can even do the accent.

Film: I went to the cinema a few weeks ago to see a screening of Chungking Express. Groundbreaking in its time and still gripping and charming today. Nevertheless, I rarely feel the urge to sit in a cinema these days…this is less to do with the films and more to do with my own comfort.

Magazine: Private Eye, to which I now subscribe.

Live Music: People Like Us at the NFT last Friday, part of the NFT Optronica season. PLU was the first of three acts performing an audio / visual set that evening, and presented an amusing and inventive blend of cultural detritus pasted together to form strange collage landscapes…ski villages burning in the background as a ballroom couple dance on stage in the foreground, trombone players spitting beams of flickering red light from the ends of their instruments, sound engineers building robots that sing through a vocoder…great entertainment and accompanied by Vicki Bennett’s usual blend of wonky cut and paste music.

CD: Ye gods! I have not bought a CD in months. This is chiefly down to…

Radio: Broadband has resulted in online radio taking over my music habits, particularly the BBC’s Listen Again function. At this exact moment I am yet to catch up on more than eight hours of programming I have earmarked for listening. Best of Jazz, Mixing It, Andy Kershaw, The Blue Room x2, 6 Mix, old episodes of radio comedy, and others. This year I am squeezing every last goddamn drop out of my licence fee.

And relax.