Sponsor me here, if you so feel. It’s for Derbyshire Refugee Solidarity.
I was kind of hungover for abseiling, because the night before was a truly uniquely beautiful night at City-Zen One Mic. So many talented people, and I got up and did a couple of new spoken word bits. People come together to create and talk bollocks and drink and dance and it’s magic. And raised £100 for Rojava Solidarity.
Spent the rest of the weekend with family, which was really nice. We all live kind of far apart, so it’s great when we do get together. Stayed up way too late putting the world to rights (and I managed not to get into any terrible political arguments even though my family are not yet woke to the true necessity of anarchism).
These things have been good beyond measure. In between times, things have been bad beyond measure. I don’t know if I’m actually losing it. Fuck abseiling, this is the real extreme sport. The mood graph prickles like a porcupine and shoots a facefull of quills into my idiot life. Trying to hold while everything spins. I’m too dizzy to run anywhere. My hands hurt.
I braved it and made a video clip. First verse of my new poem, Faith in Humanity (People are Strange). This the first time I’ve ever done a spoken selfie video, so I apologise for my face.
We’re snowed under with desperate political commentary and the End of The World is being predicted again. Evil is afoot. But helping out with the thousands of donations given to just one grassroots charity, has really driven home the fact that there are a lot of people who do want to do a little bit of good. The world is changing, maybe in the cracks wrought by the earthquakes we can plant new seeds, seeds of a world where no one has to flee their home, no one is coerced, and no one has to see Donald Trump’s face ever again.
If you’d like to see me do more poetry, along with 13 super talented acts wh will put me in the absolute shade, come to City-Zen: One Mic! Rojava Solidarity Network fundraiser. Last One Mic! night was absolutely beautiful, so come on down to the Maypole in Derby tomorrow evening.
To watch me (along with many other insane brave and committed people) abseil down the building, come to Jurys Inn, Derby, this Saturday at 1pm. It’s be a laugh. Or I might cry, who knows? It’s the suspense that makes it interesting, right?
The world is a scary place. We all know that. Turn on the news and cry.
I feel like things are getting worse. The right wing is rising all over the world, as nationalism emerges as a twisted reaction to economic troubles and globalisation. Governments increase fear and hatred, finding scapegoats and enemies within and without to divide the people and justify violence and authoritarianism.
Here in the UK, the Tory government pushes ideological austerity, transferring wealth from the people to big business and the ultra-rich. A biased media means that it’s hard to even figure out what is true and what is propaganda.
George Osborne has released his budget, which was always going to be depressing. Once again, disabled people have been targeted for benefit cuts. What starts off as abstract economics becomes a devastating reality for people who are already struggling. It seems that the victims of austerity are those who started off with the least to lose. Of course it makes sense that they would target those with the least power, because what can we do?
This might affect me personally, what with the ESA cuts that have also been announced, but that’s not my biggest worry. I’m relatively well off. I’m mentally ill but at least I have my physical mobility. Benefits are not enough for an easy life, and increasing financial stress for people who are already sick is going to have a horrifying impact on thousands of people. I have a friend who suffers from fibromyalgia as well as currently battling cancer, and he has been sanctioned several times already, left with no money at all, for missing appointments he was never notified of. Now he will lose even more. How can we accept that? How could anyone think it is ok for sick and vulnerable people to be forced into penury in one of the wealthiest countries on Earth?
So I am frightened, and I am angry. I am also at a loss. What am I supposed to do?
I used to be politically active. In Guildford we had Surrey United Anti-Capitalists, and we campaigned, we marched, protested, leafleted, held meetings, supported strikes, spread education and debate, supported each other to not feel alone in a world that too often feels like it has gone mad.
Now I am living in a little town and I don’t know what to do. I feel strangely isolated, and it’s been so long that I don’t know where to start. There are definitely active, conscious people working for change in Derby. I have spent time with some of them and they’re brilliant. It’s my own laziness that has stopped me getting more involved, as well as focussing on my mental health stuff. But I can’t have a ‘life worth living’ (as DBT states its goal) without fighting to create a world worth living in. So enough of feeling afraid and disempowered. Things may be going to shit, but that just means it’s time to start building. The new world will stand in the shell of the old.
Yes, I know it’s Monday. But I want to write about Saturday. Saturday was a good day. Though it wasn’t especially sexy, aside from my presence. Every day is sexy if I’m in it.
It was another shoot for the No Surrender video (read about the first one here), this time for the part of the story featuring only me. Aaah, attention. I drink it in like nectar. Everyone looking at me. Me, my mask, and my Emotions. Ha! Who am I kidding? I’m already terrified (as well as incredibly excited) about this being released to the world.
Carl, Brent and Jay of Evil Unicorn are indeed highly professional, and there were no technical problems or inappropriate comments at all. There was nice coffee though. Acting pro tip: When filming sleep scenes in a bed surrounded by men, defuse the awkwardness with innuendo. Also, always end the day with a drink or seven to release pent-up emotion. (And to warm up after filming the outdoor scenes.)
This filming made me really tired, because 10am-5pm is a really long workday by my standards. How do people live in real jobs? Is there something wrong with me? Even at school, back in the day, I’d end up in a state of constant tiredness. Is everyone is the world just really tired, all the time? Is that why everything’s a bit shit? You know, I might have hit on a truth about Capitalism here. But I digress.
My brother randomly popped round for a drink night, which was surprising as he lives all the way up in Cumbria. I was well happy to see him though. This was the first time he’d met Chris as My Boyfriend, and seen where we live. Oh, and he showed us a cartoon with Nazi dinosaurs. Netflix may now become a part of my life. Goodbye, any remaining illusion of productivity!
Just to make things less fun, the truth is that politics is ridiculous and we’re all basically doomed. Capitalism has run rampant, and braying poshos and sociopathic financiers are firmly in the driving seat. Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror is coming true, our leaders are financially illiterate, (and the whole concept of finance is also based on lies). Dystopia looms, as usual. The way things are going, the best we can hope is that the human race dies out before we destroy the rest of the planet as well.
Parliamentary democracy won’t ever change shit. Even the pretty weak appearance of Jeremy Corbyn, heading a Labour Party that is still mainly centre left/neoliberal has caused the apparent threat of a military coup on top of rabid media attacks. In the Times today, it was claimed that the left wing are literally fascists, due to the influence of ‘deracinated Jew’ Karl Marx. I couldn’t make this weirdness up. If you step outside the bounds of corporate respectability (and by respectability, I mean giving them as much money as possible) then you will be taken down.
The massive inequalities in the system make true democracy impossible in its current state. However, this fact seems to have led to a total loss of energy to do anything. There must be a way to oppose the Tories, without also endorsing their power-hungry rivals or the faux-democracy of Parliament. We have to work out a sustainable way to live. Abolish the political class, power hierarchies and material inequalities. Then we’ll have a real chance of a future.
There’s a fine line to be walked when commenting on the sex lives of politicians. It’s all too easy to sound like some moralising ‘think of the children’ type. Generally, everyone’s sexuality is their own damn business. It only becomes publicly relevant when either they have violated consent, or their private life shows up such a horrendous failing of character that it affects judgement of their wider activities. The former category I shouldn’t have to elaborate on: rapists etc. must not be in positions of power and responsibility. The second category is more a matter of opinion and judgement. Homophobic ‘family values’ campaigners sleeping with male prostitutes, politicians mistresses being paid pubic money, these are all areas where the ‘public interest’ makes the usually private become publicly relevant.
Shockingly bad sexual ethics generally don’t say great things about a person. Although I’m not sure if ‘sexual ethics’ even covers this weirdness.
So, is ‘piggate’ relevant? Mainly, I wanted an excuse to write about it, because it is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. In case you hadn’t heard, David Cameron, the Prime Minister of Britain, put ‘a private part of his anatomy’ into the mouth of a dead pig, as part of some bizarre Oxford University posho cult initiation ceremony. So already we have bestiality and necrophilia, and can only assume that he was also surrounded by a crowd of braying toffs, urging him on to this unusual act as a symbol of group belonging. This revelation should really destroy forever the pathetic ‘call me Dave’ pretense that he is actually some kind of normal human bloke. Normal people do not do this.
As an intermission, please enjoy this excellent song by Cassetteboy.
A small subset of awful people do spring to mind, who I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they sexually violated an animal, dead or otherwise. If you went to university, you would probably find them in the rugby club, forcing each other to down pints until they vomit, while dressed in women’s clothes and braying sexist ‘banter’ at unfortunate passing women. Let me be clear, these are not normal rugby guys. They don’t even have to be rugby guys. Any relatively socially privileged group has some. You probably had one guy like this in school, the guy who just didn’t seem to have limits on what was acceptable behaviour. He always took jokes too far, hurt people, maybe killed small animals, but got away with it because his parents would never let the golden fruit of their perfect loins get into trouble. Imagine a whole secret society of these guys, with unlimited money. I’m sure pigs aren’t even the worst of it.
David Hameron (ha, see what I did there? Totally original humour that) and his weird sexual exploits are relevant because they say something about him. He is the kind of person who easily gets caught up in groupthink, so desperate to belong and be accepted that he will do anything, even something weird and humiliating. Or perhaps he is the kind of person who loves to do shocking things, to show off how ‘daring’ he is, to be known as that guy who doesn’t care what people think. (Who of course actually cares desperately what people think, and carefully curates his ‘wild’ behaviour to gain maximum attention.) That this was an initiation for a secret society tells us nothing we don’t already know: Cameron comes from a tiny elite, who consider themselves apart and above the hoi polloi. He is unaffected by the unspoken rules that govern normal behaviour. Rules like Don’t put your genitals into, onto, or around dead animals.
But mostly, it’s this. DAVID CAMERON PUT HIS DICK IN A PIG. If you can ever look at him the same way again, hell, if you can look at him without bursting out laughing, you are a stronger person than me.