HEALTH & WELLBEiNG: Taxed For Being Ill.
I have chronic conditions – psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis – that require ongoing medication. And to pay for this – in addition to the taxes we all pay* – I pay a monthly direct-debit towards a prescription pre-payment scheme.
*Or ought to, and by and large do. I my view it’s those wealthy enough to dodge such joint responsibilities that are our biggest problem.
On my last visit to the chemist, to pick up my regular prescription meds, after 5 or 6 years of never being asked for any proof, I was asked. I told them I had none, as I’d never been asked before. They told me I’d have to bring some proof next time.
I’m not sure what constitutes proof? There’s no physical document or card anymore. There used to be a card. But that’s been scrapped. Toryism shaving off another small fraction from the public purse, to give the fat cats further scope to skim off more cream. So I guess I’ll just have to print out an appropriate email, if I can find one.
The Tories have always disliked the NHS, and for decades they have been systematically butchering it. Tragically the Blair/Brown Labour govt. colluded in the expansion of rapine capitalism within the NHS, making an already dodgy situation even worse. In many ways New Labour was Tory Lite. Tragic!
There are so many layers and levels to all the ramifications of the Tory ‘only money matters’ attitude (I won’t dignify it with the term philosophy!). One of these is to make parking at NHS facilities another opportunity for parasites to drain money from NHS workers and patients.
So not only am I taxed ‘at source’, to fund all our public services, including the wonderful institution that is the NHS. But, as an ill person – something that at its rotten core (I can’t say heart, Toryism has no heart) the right equates with ‘sin’* – I have to pay two more times: once more for my prescriptions, and again, to park.
* There’s a barely disguised eugenicist Spencerian thread at the base of such ideologies, itself heir to the far older superstitions of religions, and dark pre-scientific (mis)understanding, which equates illness (and even ‘ugliness’) with sin and evil; outward manifestations of inner un-Godliness. Conditions that – rather than being understood and treated with due sympathy and care – are to be denigrated and punished.
Protected: MEDiA: Anatomy of an Icon, 2008
SPORT: Football, World Cup ‘22 – That’s More Like It!
England 3, Senegal 0
I used to actively dislike football. Or at least I tried to, for a spell. What I really disliked (and still do) are: yobbism, the tribalism of some supporters, and the grotesque capitalism that has colonised and dominates the sport.
Anyway, mini-rant over, back to the footy. And tonight it was, mercifully, enjoyable. Well, at least it was if you’re rooting for England. And (I’ll forego my rant about patriotism and jingoism!) And I was/am rooting for England.
I won’t pretend I know much about the beautiful game. But I do know that I like Gareth Southgate’s managerial style, and the crop of players he has at his disposal. One of the ITV pundits – Gary Neville? – put it well, saying Southgate was ‘compassionate’, and that his team believed in him as a leader.
I also liked the sound of the cultivation of a team spirit by watching matches together, as opposed to players disappearing into solipsistic isolation in social media and gaming consoles, etc.
But to the match: Senegal started strongly, getting the first two best chances. But then England gradually warmed up. And in the last ten minutes of the first half, first Henderson and then Kane (finally!) scored superbly emphatic goals.
I have to admit my attention wandered in the second half. But then I’m not the worlds most ardent footy fan. And I often tend to be doing other stuff whilst watching matches. But when Saka scored goal number three – another real peach – it brought my attention back with a bang.
I rarely bother with the pre or post match punditry. And tonight was, in that respect, business as usual, for me; hopped into a piping hot bath, and then off to bed! But it’s nice to have been able to enjoy watching England compete internationally and acquit themselves so admirably.
Great work, lads!
HOME/DiY: Shed #4, Roofing…
A continuing saga
Grabbing whatever moments I can – when we’re both at home and the weather’s ok, a rare combo of late – I get a little time here and there to progress work on the shed roof.
I recently extended the longer edges, which previously didn’t project over the walls. This was to make sure rain would run off, not down/through the structure. I didn’t do the best or prettiest job.
So today I mixed a paste of wood dust, wood glue, and a little water, and filled in the seams where boards didn’t meet quite as flush as we’d have liked. Hopefully this bodge will suffice to keep the pieces together, and stop water passing through?
What a rubbish photo the above is! My excuse is that I was more concerned with getting the job done than photographing the work in progress.
It’s good to be chipping away at what is a reasonably large job, and gradually getting nearer to completion. I hope I can get the roofing felt on before the snow arrives!
MEDiA: La Planète Sauvage, 1973
Wow! This is a pretty amazing animated film. The quality of animation is terrific. Especially for its (pre CGI) era. Whilst the visual aesthetic is not immediately to my own tastes, it’s so singular and powerful it kind of sucks one in. Well, me at least, at any rate.
I discovered the existence of this movie thanks to the inclusion of some music from it on the vinyl compilation Mindbending Nuggets, which a friend had bought. This latter is a great collection of slightly obscure music, with a good selection of odd and unusual but groovily funky tracks (released in ‘97).
The basic premise of the film (itself based on a book*) is that humans, called Oms, are kept as pets by Draags, big blue red-eyed and web-eared humanoid characters. These Draags spend most their time meditating and being a bit weird.
They live on a planet, Ygam, whose look reminds one of both surrealism generally, and in particular the paintings of scientist (and surrealist painter) Desmond Morris. All organic blobbiness, but with an appropriately ‘sauvage’ spikiness.
Apparently the movie was marketed as a stoner experience, best watched in an altered state. And I can see that that might well be a good way to see it. Although personally those days are, for the most part, very much behind me now.
The music, by Alain Goraguer is terrific. It’s often compared to Atom Heart Mother era Floyd. Although, to my mind/ears, it’s far more complex, focussed and funky than the Brit-proggers.
Funky keys, wah-guitar, and lush strings and vocals create the perfect aural companion to the visuals. It’s one of those rare instances where the music stands in its own right, and is as strong as the film it accompanies.
Above, a bit more of Goraguer’s work. I’ll prob do a post on him at some point. But for this one, let’s get back to the animated film. Which is, frankly, visually stunning.
* Based on this book:
All told, there’s something a bit odd, and slightly limp or disappointing, in the ideas or the narrative. The visual imagination and invention is terrific, but the conceptual side occasionally feels a little lame.
There’s a definite hangover of both WWII and the hippy era. The ‘de-Om’ing’, or culling of humans, clearly resembles the Nazi ‘final solution’. Most obviously so when gas releasing pellets – Zyklon B springs to mind – are used to kill Oms en masse. But in the end, and rather quickly, it’s determined that peaceful co-existence is the only way forward. And, rather abruptly (and dissatisfyingly), boom, the film ends.
It almost feels like they just ran out of either budget or ideas! Maybe not? Who knows. Either way, it’s a bit of a damp squib way to end.
Nevertheless, the sheer visual richness, and the soundtrack, make this essential viewing, in my opinion.
BOOK REViEW: The Wild Boys, William Burroughs
Just finished reading this. It’s a short and fairly easy read, albeit the prose veers between normal and ‘cut up’. Luckily there’s enough standard English to make it readable.
I’m fascinated by Burroughs. I think he’s prob’ a bit nuts, and possibly a bit of a huckster/charlatan. But he has a great command of language, and an amazingly vivid if somewhat twisted imagination.
In essence, a great deal of Burroughs writing – at least what I’ve read – is autobiographical. But rather than straightforward documentary narrative, Burroughs serves up a postmodern bouillabaisse of fevered drug-addled eroto-fantasy, interwoven with crumbling memories.
Burroughs wandering life as a trust-fund dilettante, globe-trotting in search of, essentially/frankly, thrills, and being both gay and – by dint of the latter, to some extent – Bohemian, lead him to live in all the places that crop up here: St Louis, Mexico City, London, North Africa, New York, etc.
Burroughs’ unusual outsider life – involving crime, drugs, and a sexuality that meant living not like but as an outlaw – all conspired to fuel a pretty weird fantasy world. And so The Wild Boys (and other writings) veers towards being his kind of heir to the Marquis de Sade’s vision of ultimate freedom in a melange of sex and violence.
Depending on the reader’s tastes, it can make for quite compelling and entertaining (or off-putting) reading. What it’s real merits may be, I’m very uncertain. In some ways I enjoyed this book. In others, I was disappointed.* As with much of Burroughs’ work, it’s like the somewhat choreographed dredgings of a disordered and fairly warped mind.
In some of his writings all of this is filtered through very standard prose, in others – particularly when he employs his cut up style – it’s practically unreadable. Here it’s a mixture, thankfully erring on the side of comprehensible. But the visions it describes are, well… read it. See what you think!
The book signs off ‘William S. Burroughs, London, 1969’. This was an interesting time in his life, about which you can learn more here.
Pop group Duran Duran’s hit song is named after the novel (more on this below). And I’ve read that cult gay film maker Fred Halsted was in discussions with Burroughs about making a pornographic movie of The Wild Boys. But that never came to pass, alas.
* The titular Wild Boys don’t really come to the fore till very near the end of the book. Making many of the ‘plot’ synopses of this work I’ve seen seem way too glib/conventional.
Notes
I made the following notes as I read the book. I forgot to do so for two chapters, so those are in [brackets]!
CHAPTER / Remarks / score
Tio Maté Smiles - Cinematic surrealist Mexico City sleaze… **1/2
The Chief Smiles - Moroccan death sleaze … ***
Old Sarge Smiles - St Louis nun-sleaze, with a sprinkling of racism… **1/2
Bury the Bread - Audrey moons, Old Sarge rants; a psychedelic melange… ***
Penny Arcade Peep Show #1 - Funfair surreal gay sex dreams ***1/2
Le Gran Luxe - Big swanky party surreal gay sex dreams ***1/2
[Penny Arcade PS #2 - I forget!]
[Miracle Rose - … er? Something to do with anii… & ‘rectal mucous’!?]
Silver Smile - Frankie & Johnny gay sex dreams ****
Frisco Kid - Klondike gay sex dream ***1/2
Penny Arcade PS #3 - Cinematic cut & paste
Dead Child - Golf course gay sex dreams morph into shaman jungle dream ***
Call Me Joe - Defection from the straight army to the Wild Boys **1/2
Mother & I - Perverts vs Police State: ‘Our aim is total chaos’. Wild Boys eroto-horror… ***
Wild Boys - The title finally addressed… more of the same [gay sex dreams]… **1/2
Penny Arcade PS #4 - Tree-house-boat gay sex dream ***1/2
Penny Arcade PS #5 - Assassin gardener **1/2
Wild Boys Smile - Arrival, more of the same [gay sex dreams]… The End ***
FOOTNOTE:
The Duran Duran song, The Wild Boys, is of little or no interest to me, particularly musically, in itself. But it is a little intriguing inasmuch as it was supposed to be the theme song to another mooted attempt at making the book into a film. The ‘songfacts’ website says:
‘Duran Duran recorded the song because Russell Mulcahy, who directed their videos, bought the movie rights to the book and planned to make it into a film. The band wrote the song for the movie, which was never made. At the time, this was the most expensive video ever made.’
MEDiA: The Titfield Thunderbolt, 1953
What a strange film! Strange, that is, by modern standards, rather than those of the day. Filmed in ‘glorious Technicolor’ – it was the first Ealing comedy filmed in the new format – it’s a picture postcard fantasy of a certain time in and idea of England.
In essence it’s a comedy about the beginnings of ‘heritage’ railways; as The State withdrew from steam locomotion, the public stepped in. Apparently it’s even based on a real Welsh example, which was allegedly the very first such heritage line. It’s noteworthy that this is a whole decade before the infamous Beeching axe would fall.
Visually it’s beautiful, a celluloid time-capsule. And it’s also quite sweet in how it portrays the era. There’s a just-post-WWII ‘Blitz spirit’, as when the passengers of the train all pitch in to get water, after the dastardly bus crew get Harry Hawkins (Sid James) to sabotage the water supply.
There are some thumping great ironies in there, as well; witness, for example, when there’s a joke about how, if the railway makes too much profit, it’ll be nationalised!
Modern history has demonstrated, over and over again, particularly under Toryism, that losses are usually nationalised (i.e. passed on to the public purse), whilst profit is privatised.
There are also all sorts of moments – for example at the public meeting, when Squire Chesterford (John Gregson) makes the case for the railway (as opposed to bus/road developments), on the basis of how it’ll change the nature of Titfield – that reflect what was considered, at the time, to make for a ‘good old fashioned’ British Utopia.
In this instance that revolves around the fear, also present in George Orwell’s very different 1984 (‘I am a name, not a number’!) that old country lanes will be tarmac’ed, and houses be numbered, rather than named.
Of course the quaint old trains were themselves, at one time, the harbingers of a modern industrialised doom. But now they are – and evidently even back in ‘53 they were – the stuff of ‘olde England’! There are many other little interesting insights into certain visions of how life was then (the squire and the poacher!), what constituted progress, and what makes for the ideal life.
One of the things I like most about this film is the saturated slightly gaudy colour, AKA Technicolor. It’s very like the intense colouring of some design and illustration of that era. And so many things, from the clothes, to furniture, cars, trucks, etc, are, or rather were, so much more aesthetically pleasing than the vast bulk of modern mass-produced tat we are surrounded by now.
For example, the old Bedford bus, of the villainous rivals of the loco’ lovers, Pearce & Crump, is gorgeous. I absolutely adore the upholstery fabric inside the bus:
It has to be admitted I was only half watching this delightful old film, whilst Teresa and I played our Sunday afternoon Scrabble game, in between World Cup match viewing. I, or we, really ought to watch it again and give it my/our full attention.
It seems to me a good solid old-fashioned dose of ‘50s period fun. Balcon-era Ealing film at its cosily British best. I’d definitely recommend it.
MUSiC: Cocaine, Cale & Clapton…
I grew up with J. J. Cale’s Naturally. It was in my parents’ record collection. And I always loved it. One of the first covers I ever attempted, in my early teens, was the song Magnolia, from this superb album.
We also had a few Clapton discs, including both Slowhand and 461 Ocean Boulevard. Fantastic albums! Slowhand is interesting because it features two covers by other artist that are both superb in their original versions, by their composers – J. J. Cale’s Cocaine, and John Martyn’s May You Never – and none too shabby in Clapton’s readings. And in both cases Clapton’s versions helped make the original songwriters a little better known.
If you want to hang out,
You've got to take her out, cocaine
If you want to get down,
Get down on the ground, cocaine
She don't lie,
She don't lie,
She don't lie, cocaine
If you got bad news,
You want to kick them blues, cocaine
When your day is done
And you want to run, cocaine
She don't lie,
She don't lie,
She don't lie, cocaine
If your thing is gone
And you want to ride on, cocaine
Don't forget this fact,
You can't get it back, cocaine
She don't lie,
She don't lie,
She don't lie, cocaine
She don't lie,
She don't lie,
She don't lie, cocaine
What do I want to say about this song? Well, first off, I love both versions. Cale’s is more personal, with his unique ‘home studio’ vibe. Clapton’s benefits from the sublime drumming of Jamie Oldaker, whose buttery smooth press rolls lend the song a whole new feel.
Also, and perhaps more controversially, I love the ambivalence of the lyrics, and their stance re the titular drug. On the Wiki page on the song Clapton says it’s a clever anti drug song. I think he’s being a bit disingenuous!
The line ‘Don’t forget this fact, you can’t get it back’ is the only cautionary caveat to what is otherwise a fairly clearly pro-cocaine line, so to speak. But it has to be admitted, as the last statement before the recurring refrain ‘she don’t lie, she don’t lie, she don’t lie’, it does subtly and cleverfully skew the up until then positive perspective.
Of all the drugs I tried in my, um… what shall we call them… wasted years? It was the only one I have no bad memories of. All the others turned from happy highs to depressing downers. But cocaine was, for me, always pure fun.*
Maybe it was just that I didn’t take it in the quantities rock stars and Tony Montana types did? I did that instead with weed. And that soured the experience. But, whatever, as they say these days, for some reason this song is resonating with me right now.
I think it’s high time – sorry, can’t he’p maself – I both transcribe and learn the Oldaker drum part. It’d be a great tune to teach in my drum lessons.
* I’m not advocating it’s use, by the way. Merely relating past experience. One of the strongest objections to its use – quite apart from the well documented hazards for users – is that it inevitably supports the brutally exploitative international narcotics trade.
HOME/DiY: Further Shed Roof Work
Whenever there’s been a brief interlude without rain (not often lately!) and I’ve been home/free, I’ve grabbed the opportunity to make progress – even in tiny little incremental steps – on the shed roof.
The four panels that I used to do the roof were more than adequate lengthwise, giving enough coverage to project at each end (front and back, I suppose?). But the 8 foot length boards were only just big enough to reach across the width of the roof.
Also, the shed was a bit out of square. So once the roofing boards were up and in place, they didn’t present straight/flush edges along the longer axis of the whole roof.
This meant I had to trim them, to get a straight line. And then somehow add long strips. Fortunately the off it’s from the front and back were just enough for the job. I had to cut them in half lengthwise. Bit of a faff!
But I did it. And on one day last week – Tuesday perhaps? – I did the higher side. And today I did the lower side. It wasn’t easy! And I didn’t do a perfect job. Far, far from it!
But hopefully it’s adequate? At least now the roof project out over the shed walls on every face. I’ll prob’ want to mix some sawdust and wood-glue filler, and fill some of the gaps between panels. And I’ve tried to find screws long enough to go through the whole width of the add-on boards.
Anyway, a couple more small steps towards getting the shed shop shape, and ready to move all my tools out of the previous workshop. The latter will become our art studio. With room to paint. A small etching press, and – if I can get it working – a kiln!
So much to do!