The moment of truth (again...)

I decided to face up to some simple home truths today on my way into work, just to put a little slant on the mundane drag that is the 9-5 conveyor belt and make it all bearable.

The first home truth was the one that I face up to every day - that I will never have a girlfriend. I done my usual lament and that was pretty much standard stuff. One home truth out the way.

Secondly I decided to face up to that other fact about myself that I have neglected to confront. I have been wearing glasses since early in primary school, probably from about the age of 6 and I have become so used to the feeling of stainless steel resting on my nose thatit's easy to forget that I am virtually blind. It is said that when the great impressionist painter, Paul Cézanne was offered a pair of glasses to remedy his ailing sight he replied in contempt, "Take those wretched things away from me!" and continued to draw as he saw.

So I decided to face the facts for once, and whipped my glasses off on the way into work and saw London is a fresh light. Well alright I kinda felt London in a hazy blur. My eyesight is so bad I can't even read a book without my glasses on, at least not without looking like a prat, and one of the first things I became aware of up close after taking my glasses off on Gower street was the big white van that nearly killed me.

I became acutely aware of sounds, not unlike the amazing Daredevil, and revelled in the feeling of being like Matt Murdock my childhood hero, the blind lawyer who flies from rooftops in a devil costume fighting crime. Yes I have read Frank Millers Man Without Fear and I have been wearing my Elektra T-shirt for years before you ask. But unlike Matt Murdock, I found myself pretty bloody lost in the mass of bustle and navigating purely by memory and faint outline.

But I couldn't help but think that this is my True London, the one that I have denied myself through the artificial lens and one that still holds for me every bit of fascination, if not more so. What I found today was a different London in many ways, but one that was still very much the same.

Once the unfamiliarity of the fuzzy shapes was overcome i came to feel strangely secure in my new London, because it was so much less sharp, the edges were softer and the speed was prematurely slowed through my eyes, which were unable to take in and process the fast pace and stress of London life.

What I realised was that we speccys actually have an advantage over the 20-20 brigade, that cannot be underestimated. We have more than one view of the world and can choose which one it is we want and when we want it. A satisfied smile spread across my face (as buses and cars piled up around the blind guy).

But probably the best thing about this new view on the world comes back to my first home truth. As I said the stress of London was reduced to nothing but mere colours (in much the same way as the impressionists soon made colour the subject of their art, such as Claude Monets Water Lillies or Paul Cézannes Mont Sainte Victoire demonstrates. When colour becomes the subject the world is seen not as a mass of objects but just a mass, a unity and the disunities that cause stress are removed.

And in my case, the mass of humanity was much easier for me to take than the constant barrage of beautiful girls London possesses, that serve to tantalise and taunt me in my state of eternal solitude. All I knew was that within this seething mass of colour was joy and pain in equal measure. This is the essence of the Tao.

But one thing was constant despite the view. With or without glasses, London is a feeling that touches evey cell of my body and confirms my existence. My name is Andy and I am a Londoner.
So I'm a sell out bitch - A defense

*** This is an exclusive Announcement to my loyal readers who are getting this news before anyone else ***

I started a job today in a bank and I shall hold my hands up and admit that. It's a temporary job through an agency, and by temporary I mean VERY temporary - I finish tomorrow! I'm hoping that this may open doors to work again, after my little holiday, as I could do with the money to pay back some people.

Financial establishments are peopled by souls so desperately uninspiring within an atmosphere so suffocating, that I couldn't help but count the hours to get out of there. Pure money making just doesn't interest me at all.

So it would appear that I'm a sellout bitch, working in a bank after comprehensively slagging off everyone who works in financial establishments time and again, but I hereby refute any accusations thus...

I pledge to put all my earnings this year, after paying off the people who have lent me stuff and providing myself with subsistence, towards charity. By this I mean that I shall not profit personally from this venture, I am merely a conduit for taking from the rich and giving to the poor.

My charity of choice for this year deals with an issue that I have had an interest in for some years now.

War broke out in Bosnia-Hercegovina, in Eastern Europe in April 1992 when Bosnian Serb snipers opened fire on unarmed civilians demonstrating for peace in Sarajevo, killing a dozen people. The ensuing war was brutal and is notable for devastating Serbian human rights atrocities, including a campaign of ethnic cleansing, in which concentration camps were set up for Muslims and Croats. With what limited knowledge I have of the situation, the US played a vital part in bringing peace to the region with the Dayton Accord, signed in Ohio in November 1995 which spelt the end of the war.

But the agony of war doesn't end when the bombs stop falling, and it is this issue that I will be channeling all my earnings towards this year.

Over one million mines are estimated to be in Bosnia-Hercegovina, and frighteningly only about half of these minefields are in known locations. Unlike a sniper with a gun, mines do not discriminate and with all of Sarajevos suburbs heavily mined we can be sure that there will be young casualties for years to come whose futures will be ruined by something that should be in the past. War is a reality not just something to chat about at the water cooler.

My aim is to raise money for a charity that deals specifically with the dangerous task of clearing mines and saving peoples lives. It is not my intention to interfere with world politics, but what's done is done and where innocent lives can be saved I will bloody well do it. It's all very well acknowledging that there is a problem but words without action is nothing but hot air.

So how do I intend to go about doing this?

I intend to go to Bosnia and see it for myself the devastation brought upon Sarajevo, which was once voted the 5th most beautiful city in the world, then to walk the potentially very dangerous road from Sarajevo to Mostar or Belgrade, a road which is no doubt littered with landmines. And of course this is where you lot come in.

I often hear many of you waxing lyrical about how you are not controlled by your companies and how you give to charity etc, but I never see any evidence and I'm thinkin that many of you are just full of bullshit. So I challenge you to really make a difference and to prove it. All I ask is that you pledge an hour a day for one week to save some lives. I'll do all the hard work, walking from Sarajevo to Mostar a distance of about 70km (of heavily mined road), gettin publicity etc all you have to do is make a pledge to adopt-a-minefield and actually back your words with actions. For as I said, words are but air, so easily lost on the wind.

Unlike with any other appeals for a free holiday, I shall be paying my own fares and fees, so 100% of your pledge goes to charity. But, if I'm paying my own fees what incentive do you have as I'm going anyway?

Firstly, you will get exclusive updates on my online diary. Now any of you who have ever seen my online Mischief diaries http://andytgeezer2.blogspot.com and http://andytgeezer.blogspot.com will know that I write a helluva lot so you certainly get your moneys worth.

Secondly you get a postcard from Bosnia, which not many people get these days.

Thirdly, as you don't actually have to pay anything til I get back you get the peace of mind to know that you have secured my return in (hopefully) one piece so I can complete my sponsorship. So in essence you get me for the price of a measly hour a day for a week. What a bargain!

Also, as an extra special incentive to anyone who pledges more than a hundred quid (Cos you can pledge more ya know...), you get a copy of my full travel journal, including drawings from my travelling sketchpad, unseen edits and random thoughts not fit for blog publication. All photocopies and postage paid for by me.

My travelling sketchpad is an idea I began in America, with DrawUSA and is simply a pad I carry everywhere in which pepole draw me stuff and is founded on a belief I have that giving someone your art is to give them your heart. I've had some real crackers. I'm expecting DrawBosnia to blow it out of the water.

If anyone desires any further incentives that I haven't thought of just say and if I can afford it then it shall be.

Thanks for your time.

Andy
Rejections Part 2 - The Saint, the Sinner and the Priest

You keep me at arms length so you can protect
Yourself cos I'm not part of the image you want to project
My friends all know you but do yours know me
I doubt I'm the type that they want to see

I live in the shadows behind closed doors
My Way of life never overlaps with yours
I pay scant regard to your social laws
While you stand on the deck I've jumped overboard

I swim with the fishes at my own pace
You're on a treadmill running a nowhere race
Though my sharks are real and the sea is cold
Life is only lived by the brave and bold

A hero dies once, a coward dies a thousand times
It is up to you how you choose to die for your crimes
I am not the judge I just choose my own life sentence
You are the priest for whom you seek repentance

Andy 2003
Drop em!

One of those rays of amusement that graces my life occasionally is innovative artistic or comedy grafitti which springs up on the walls of London seemingly with the sole purpose of bringin a smile to my face. In the absence of either of these things, I just have to make do with unoriginal adjusted slogans, and that is what I have resorted to lately in a bid to keep the proverbial pecker up.

The only slogans that matter right now are war related and given that these have all been thoroughly rinsed out by open-toed sandal brigades so now it's up to modern day slogan modifiers to do their worst. And their worst they have indeed done.

Take for example "Drop the Debt, not the bomb" seen on a wall in Euston. Or my particular favourite, in a record shop window in Holborn, "Drop Beats not bombs"

This wanton modification of political sloganage in order to further ones ends got my mind tickin for ways to manipulate the war to my own advantage. And the only thing I could think was (strangely) to try and get laid by printin a T-shirt that says...

Drop your knickers, not the bomb

And I think I might add the word Love on the end of that for comic effect. If it works I'll go into business. Who says i am a harebrained fool?
Way too much power

A good sense of humour and an optimistic slant on life should be prerequisites for any potential physics student aiming to gain a degree in what Leonard Shlain calls "The King of sciences". Of course the evidence from universities across the world shows that a sense of humour (as well as good dress sense and personal hygiene) are not among the entry requirements for physics courses but I put forth my argument here as to why they should be.

Malcolm X once said "Knowledge is Power. Arm yourself" so, armed with my physics degree I have gone through hell and high water to try and make it pay for itself as the propoganda says. After x years your degree will pay for itself, because you will earn x more than those without a degree go the popular headlines in the media. What they seem to forget to add is the little addendum which reads, unless it is physics, the hardest subject but the least likely to get you a job on account that no fucker understands it

If every year were a cake, as I believe that they are, the slice of the cake representing how long I've been unemployed would make quite a tasty snack.

Everyone really should have a good sense of humour, but we physicists have got good reason to be in charge of the best one. After all, we make mental leaps and bounds literally into different dimensions, pulling together advanced mathematics, computing and the latest techmnology in pursuit of knowledge arguably more profound and affecting than that found in any other subject.

A good physicist must utilise tools from such diverse fields as theology, philosophy and art to gain a full appreciation of the immense power at his disposal. But because no-one has any idea what the hell physics actually is we find it difficult to get jobs filing for business studies students, students whose academic achievement does not even qualify them to clean our boots.

Overqualification is a hilarious excuse which I recognise now to mean. what the hell is physics exactly!?!" to which I would answer - it means I have the knowledge to do your course and your job in my sleep mate.

It seems that I am grossly overqualified for anything I actually want to do and grossly inderqualified for a load of jobs that I don't want to do. In short I am fucked. But you've got to laugh...

But todays overqualification story was a classic. This has nothing really to do with physics as I decided to get back to my roots and apply for work in a pharmacy in Woolwich.

I have worked in the family pharmacy for as long as I can remember, which is probably about 10 years, gaining in that time every qualification that you can get as a pharmacy assistant and more. On top of that I used to write for a pharmacy magazine. Most people who apply for pharmacy jobs don't have one thing to show and the poor pharmacist today nearly had a heart attack when he saw my physics degree on my CV as well as 10 pharmacy qualifications.

So it looks like it's back to the drawing board for me, unemployed and teaching myself art as well as physics. Looks like I can have my cake and eat it.

How physicists without a sense of humour can cope is beyond me though it must be said
Losers

Damn

Looks like the race for D-list celebrity begins again. I got rejected for the graduate house today and I would just urge you lot to watch a couple of episodes and decide for yourself how much more entertaining it would have been with me in it.

It's their loss, we all know that, so I shall just take this moment to gloat at their failure to recognise real entertainment when it walks through the door. Ha ha you fuckin losers! Your program is going to be an absolute crock of shit and you have lost a fair few viewers by not pickin me you fuckwits! I've given you a chance and you blew it. Kiss my ass.
My life story

Gyles Brandreth once awarded himself the award for the best short poem ever after and Danny Baker on his fabulous morning show on GLR has been taking submissions for stories of 12 words or less after a guy won an award for best short story ever with a submission of something like 12 words which went...

In the morning the dinosaur awoke to find he was still there

Danny Baker and myself both find this particularly unsatisfactory and he's been taking texts for great short stories of 12 words or less, so I thought in keeping with the great mans idea (Danny Bakers not this short story buffoon) I would write my life story down in less than 12 words. So here it is for all to see...

It looks once again
like we are just friends
The end


The best things in life are free

Allison Pearson found les mots juste when it comes to discussing my least favourite day of the year. I spotted her column in the Evening Standard on Wednesday while trying to put into words the feeling that Valentines day is nothing but a day of forcing expression unnaturally for an arbitrary day.

Her words are as follows...

Look I'm sorry, but I really resent the transformation of Valentines Day into another prospective arena of failure. Contrived and expensive, all of this is the exact opposite of love, which strikes like lightning and comes for free

On a wider scale I realised that I don't particularly look forward to any Clintons-induced holiday for exactly the same reason every time. All these big events are an arena for prospective failure and Clintons hypes them up to make the fall ever further every year. The rigidity with which the general populace adhere to these arbitrary calendar dates is the real bugbear for me, not the actual dates themselves, as I pay little attention to them anyway.

The marking of arbitrary dates is a mechanism by which conformity to social norms is enforced, and it is the homogenisation of collective expression through the mass mind control that is advertising which is my main concern about "events" such as today.

As Pearson says, Love is an emotion that is as individual as your relationship and I believe that your expression of love should be equally as unique as your love. But ironically, Clintons, a chainstore, sells mass-produced cards and cliches and as Valentines Day rolls around, the media suggests ideas of personal expression with a one-size-fits-all approach. This is why it is even worse than birthdays to me - because we are treated just like a homogeneous collective, and actually TOLD how to express what is the strongest emotion we are meant to have.

Love has been the fuel of so much art through the ages, from the Greeks through the Renaissance to the poems of Yeats to the modern day and people have found inspiration of individual expression of monumental proportions through love.

The idea of sending a card and some flowers is by comparison so crass and so generic that it really is just insulting. What a waste of the fire of individual creativity this act of bowing down to societal norms represents.

Finally, are we really so repressed that we need Clintons to set a day to express our love for that special person? Love is not a collective generic expression, which takes place synchronously when Clintons fire the starting pistol. You don't need a card produced by someone else in a factory far far away to express your immediate desire. Even if you can empathise with the emotions expressed therein, they are NOT your original emotion, but a secondhand interpretation.

Express yourself. Don't be afraid of your individuality and may everyone find the love that they desire.

Peace
Run by a bunch of chimpanzees

Yes it's official. Warwick University Student union is nothing more than a testing ground for cross-species experimentation, where the ongoing experiment is to test and see if it really is possible to train a set of primates to run a big business profitably. Results are not yet in but early indications aint promisin.

I have just strolled back in from Farnborough in Hampshire, which in itself is a good 80-odd miles away from the monkey sanctuary, where I spent friday night in good company. The company of which I speak, Jay, DJ Charma and his bird, crammed into Jays car on friday night from Farnborough and shot up to Warwick for a good night out at Remedy, the only decent thing on there in my humble opinion.

Had a good time there, with Jay and the guys, I didn't have a load of people coming up that I don't like, Charma pulled out the stops with an old skool speed garage set, including I refuse, and It's a London Thing and it was all good, despite the straight up incompetence of the Warwick ents lot.

Now where do I start with the catalogue of cock-ups that happened that night-it's a real Argos Superstore size catalogue, and I know you dig that term, Bags.

Along with the flabby soundsystem and minimal decorative effort and air conditioning as is the usual approach that characterizes a night out at the union, this had the added bonus of the Cooler having defective audio equipment which struggled to drown out the audio leakage from the Marketplace next door. In fact the audio output would have had trouble drowning out the noise of the audience at a world chess championship as was proven by the fact that Jay heard my voice in the bog while he was takin a piss and I was at the bar on the other side of the Cooler ordering a drink and the music was on full blast. I could have had a louder rave on a Hare Krishna sound system. For that matter I think I already did earlier this week...

The decks were set up haphazardly on the stage for the "benefit" of the guest Mike "Ruff cut" Lloyd. As everyone knows about the union, guests on stage is really about as practical as a helicopter in a glassware showroom. It means less place for the real ravers who want to dance, it pisses the punters off, it pisses the DJs off and only really benefits the wankers who want to piss everyone off. So that's why the union keep going for this tack then...

So let's proceed and list exactly what is wrong with the decks being on the stage by way of examples from last night alone


  • Some pissed cunt fell over and knocked deck one in the middle of DJ Charmas set right in the middle of Brian Chambers "All I do". The record had to be taken back to the start and the vibe was gone. Everyone was pissed off
  • The stage is not too far removed in stability terms from a trampoline, at least where decks are concerned. Even people dancing on the floor cause the DJ all sorts of havoc and the DJs had a real hard time mixing because they had to take into account the fact that the needle was slippin and slidin across the record like a pondskater
  • What's the point of tryin to make the guest feel welcome by puttin them on the stage when you are gonna supply them with decks straight from the Dark Ages!?! These things didn't even have a target light on them!!!
  • ...which would have been nice when the Cooler was plunged literally into the dark ages. What the hell happened to all the lights in the Cooler for half and hour!?! Dancin in the dark should be reserved for Bruce Springsteens album


I could go on because it really was a catalogue of errors. The DJ was really just too close and they get in the way when they're on stage. The aim of the DJ in garage is as the catalytic creator of the atmosphere, an entity who thrives on watching the crowd, but whose role is passive. By trying to put the DJ in the centre of the action, Warwick is really missing the point of what a DJ does.

Still, I can't say it surprises me at all, given that the place appears to have been run by a crack team of trained chimpanzees since the day I walked in 3+ years ago and nothing seems to have changed. Scrapping the box office was a move that even trained chimpanzees would be ashamed of, and that makes me suspect that in truth a far worse body of idiots is behind this...Warwick graduates.

Let me take one second to put this into perspective for you. Warwick advertises that it has a great business school and maany blue chip companies send their employees to Warwick Business School for MBAs. Even Mark Hughes, former Wales football manager and Chelsea player studies here.

I guess that they don't advertise the union as a prime example of Warwick business in action.

For fucks sake, this place has one purpose and it is to sell beer to students!!!!!!

How hard can that be!?!

Warwick business in action seems to consist of the following though. Firstly, put the price of beer up to such a rate that it is actually cheaper to buy elsewhere, including i may add, in Coventry union where I decided to cash in a few chips when I was at Warwick just to strike a blow to our shoddy place. In this way, less people go to the union because it just doesn't represent value for money.

Then make the union as dull a place as possible, phasing out any sort of feeling of homeliness and streamlining it to make it feel a little more like one of those trendy places on the high street, like wetherspoons, where incidentally they sell beer cheaper. Not to mention in classier surroundings. Look union people, it is acceptable for the union to be shoddy as long as it is homely, bashed up sofas will always triumph over hard metal chairs. There is a time and a place.

So having completely failed in the selling of drinks to students manifesto, the union is then faced with another business challenge - the task of selling food to a captive audience, who will always get hungry but have nowhere else to shop for food without getting a bus. So the university food outlets thus have a complete and unrivalled monopoly.

But do they seize upon this opportunity to offer fantastic meals at low prices to hungry and (on the whole) fairly wealthy students, thus making a killing? Hell no!

The business plan thus follows that rather than take a major time burden of cooking off the hands of the students in order that we may do something better with our time like study, the union then goes and gets rid of the Cooler Diner and replaces it with something that looks like McDonalds and tastes a bit worse, and is more expensive to boot! Hence no bugger eats there, while the union scratches it's head and wonders why it's losing money.

Some time back the decision was taken not to have any beer offers or drop the price of beer to the levels of some other unions because "This is an educational establishment not a brewery" but I would argue that the kids will always drink, and will go to the places where it is the best value. In pursuing value students will have to look off campus and hence will waste a helluva lot of time getting to Wetherspoons to pursue the good stuff.

On top of this, so much time is wasted cooking, and so much money is going into the coffers of Costcutters and Tesco rather than in potential earnings for the union that the current business plan of the union goes completely against the ethic that it espouses, that of trying to facilitate learning. By not providing cheap, edible food (not expensive rubber as is currently the dish of the day at Cooler Diner) the union is hardly doing it's bit to establish a stressless learning environment for the students and is subsequently missing out on a great earning opportunity.

...and finally back onto the subject of events, where I began.

The current method of event coordination is possibly the most laughable I've ever seen anywhere in the world. And I've been around the world enough to have seen some seriously bad shit, not to mention my birthdays which are consistently shambolic.

But these put my birthdays to shame. i wonder if these people have EVER been out and if they have ANY understanding what a rave actually is. The basic premise that the union uses to run an event is as follows: seize upon a trend which is fashionable and do it to death, then get bored of it, stop supporting it and wonder what the hell happened.

And if that doesn't work, put on more cheese nights as everyone likes cheese and we won't have to build up a following because most people will use it as an excuse to get pissed rather than anything else.

So a night like Quench, which isn't really my bag, but I acknowledge that it was a cult success or Remedy which also has a cult following start getting completely the wrong set up by a panel of committee execs who really have no fucking idea what they are doing. These people are there because it looks good on their CVs not because they want to organise a damn good rave. They wouldn't know a good rave if it waved it's white gloves in their face!

Remedy has become a casualty of the managerial incompetence of a group of people who really make no effort to understand what it is they are trying to run. Bill Gates did not get where he is today by not knowing how to program a computer.

But at the end of the day, I am no longer at the university. I didn't like it when I was there, and I don't like it much now. In theory I shouldn't really care less about the place going to pot so why am I writing this? Well i'm writing this because I went back for Remedy for a reason.

Remedy to me was the only good thing about Warwick, it was the only thing that kept me sane, an outlet for my frustrations that saved me from dropping out or turning psychotic and ultimately the reason for me owning a degree today. There will be people after me who feel the same about one event or other, be it Remedy, Quench, Soul Nation or whatever, but it is these people I am writing this for.

The union has a duty to these people and at the rate it's going it's not only going to see it's income drop but will probably bang the final nail in the coffin of many disillusioned students at Warwick.
The smoking gun?

In homage to the boy Lightning and his blog I would also like to pose the question to my readership...have I been condemned to being a Warwick student forever by this damning picture or are those two in the top pic just an unfortunate pair who bear an uncanny resemblance to Me and Lightning Lee?
In defence of expression

I thought I'd take a little time to clarify a position on which I stand with regards to one term I use very regularly as a term of abuse. The term Warwick University is merely an abstraction, a figurative representation of a set of characteristics for which I have the utmost loathing.

I am writing partly to address an accusation leveled at me recently that I am becoming a nazi for my pigeonholing of various sections of society into boxes and labelling some of these boxes as off-limits, which I hereby refute thus.

Although I may despise certain characteristics in people, I do not despise people as such, as every man is capable of great achievements as my charity work with the disabled and disaffected youth has shown time and again. I am acutely aware of the behaviour patterns exhibited by people and am aware equally of peoples good and bad points.

I acknowledge the argument that everyone is different, which is really so fundamental that it would only be a fool who dares dispute such an irrefutable statement. My apparent pigeonholing of the students of Warwick University, comes from my cumulative bad experience with this particular institution and is a convenient term to use as everyone can relate to the characteristics of which I speak when I use this term.

Having done a large amount of youth work for charity I have found that disadvantaged kids and the incredibly poor have motivation and desire, which I found to be so rare in the (mainly) middle class populace in Warwick. There was no dedication, no real fire in the desires of the people I met there and very little real sacrifice. Warwick Students in my argument lack integrity that you can only find under the strain of hardship, and lack the philosophical and moral grounding that can only be gained from the school of hard knocks. Too many Warwick-ites were happy enough to lie when it meant getting ahead, forging aquaintanceships for convenience with no conviction. In short the convenient shallow bonding that I despise was a prevalent feature in the bubble of Campus.

Of course there were a few exceptions which I thank God for, as I surely would have lost faith in humanity had there not been. Campus though is merely a macrocosm of the world at large, with the good bits taken out and so I acknowledge that the dull, shallow losers of which made up the bulk of Warwick university also make up the bulk of the real world too but as I just said, the real world also has the good bits in it, like Tropicana with the juicy bits in, so the proportion of real characters is higher.

The argument is that the term "Warwick University" thus sums up a feature of characteristics not a set of people which I see as complacent, spoilt, and really quite dull company. In this way I refute the accusation levelled at me that I tarnish a section of society, and see them as substandard citizens. I merely acknowledge and discriminate in order to help elucidate my argument against these characteristics of mankind as a whole and, as Jean Paul Sartre argues in defence of Aetheistic Existentialism in Existentialism and human emotions

"When we say that a man is responsible for himself, we do not only mean that he is responsible for his own individuality, but that he is responsible for all men"

This concurs with Lao-Tzu, in Tao Te Ching, and with Plato's ideas in Republic and in following this rhetoric and the guiding principles of Taoism I seek not to impose but to refine myself for the good of society at large because it is only through the collective improvement of self that society may prosper. What the rest of society do is really none of my business but if it prospers as a result of my self-enlightenment then so be it.

It is not my intention to label a group of people, as that would achieve nothing. By identifying the traits that I aspire to avoid then I aim for the ultimate target of self-improvement by elucidating my own moral path, and by writing my thoughts here I merely allow you to follow the path if you so desire. It's your choice.

One final point though. Even the people in possession of these traits are still but people and I have nothing massively against them as people. I only dislike people who I know enough to dislike. People always have it within themselves to find their own moral pathway. that is up to them.

My aim is to lead a life I believe is morally and ethically right and my system of ethics will be different from yours as ethics arise from the circumstances of our upbringing and our subsequent system of belief. By pointing out a way of life I choose not to live and by vocalising my opposition, however that may be, to the lifestyles I believe to be in contravention to what I believe in, I am inviting you to make up your own mind.
Prickly pear

Today started off as any other, but ended up reaffirming my faith in the power of London to make me deliriously happy.

I jumped on a train this morning, armed with a big bag of books and took off to the bright lights of town, expecting nothing vastly exciting from the day, but for a couple of laughs and a bit of gained knowledge. As I passed time away on the train I read, as I am prone to these days, "Art & Physics" by Leonard Shlain, a book so well written and so absorbing that it's got my undivided attention in every free moment at present.

In it I read the following about one of the physicists whose name will be forever linked with the Manhattan project and the subsequent atomic weapons that were conceived as a result, Robert Oppenheimer. In reference to the Bhagavad Gita [Oppenheimer] described it as "more brilliant than ten thousand suns".

I'm not ashamed to admit that I had no idea whatsoever what the Bhagavad Gita was and just put it on my mental list of things I needed to find out when I got home.

On arrival at Charing Cross, I was stopped in my tracks by something I thought never actually existed - I saw a fruit stall and on it there in the cold light of day, there in all it's red and green opalescence was a prickly pear. Next thing they'll be telling me Timbuktu is actually real!

Naturally I bought it out of pure curiosity and it's in my bag awaiting my curious virgin mandibles. I shall savour it with great pleasure no doubt and report back once the experience is over although I still refuse to believe it exists until after the event, in much the same way that I still believe that Cindy Crawford and Chesney Hawkes are the same person given that they have never proven it otherwise.

Next I went around town doing stuff that I don't believe I can yet reveal here for fear of ruining the later surprise for you my dear reader, and the highlight of this particular excursion was an office with a glass door with one of those big aluminium push or pull handles that stretches the length of the door. Normally something that we all assume is of sturdy construction, especially on the door of a plush office like this one, I pushed the door open only to have the handle come off in my hand in the full view of reception and the whole of Regent Street for that matter. I fell about laughing and gave them their handle back before chuckling my way to Carnaby Street.

Through the back alleys of Soho (not for that, Cez) when I walked past a window with a book in it. The book was titled Bhagavad Gita and I stopped in my tracks. Checking the place out I decided to go in, and the Hare Krishnas invited me in warmly and I went upstairs and had lunch with the Hare Krishnas. I really do dig their lifestyle and have big love for these guys, and they told me about the Bhagavad Gita and the Krishna mindset then sent me on my way with my very own copy of the Bhagavad Gita and a couple more books to boot, which were hardback and seriously beautiful. In fact I would say that in my pretty vast collection of books these are in the top five, only behind "The Wisdom of China and India" for pure aesthetic beauty, so I was very impressed. More impressive though was the fact that it just seemed like, once again, fate had conspired to answer my questions in as lucid a way as possible, and via the most interesting people and means. Life is a great teacher indeed.

I went to Hammersmith next to sort out some volunteering stuff that I want to do and was pretty surprised that they recognised me from the impact that I left on them 6 months back! These guys have only ever seen me once before and that was for about 5 minutes but it seems I left an impression which is always a nice feeling.

I topped the day off with one of my favourite pastimes - I went to the National Gallery and immersed myself in the beauty of Cézanne and Gaugain. I guess as Londoners we can become complacent and underestimate the breadth and magnificence of what our great city has to offer, but faced with Raphaels depiction of St John the Baptist preaching on the rock and Van Goghs Sunflowers, masterpieces for which I paid a grand total of nothing to see, I realised that there is a reason why I love London so much. Art and culture, science and philosophy, music and sports there is nothing we don't have, and for that matter we are spoilt enough to have access to the best of all of them.

This is a city which can keep even the shortest attention span, the most curious mind and the most restless imagination nurtured with the milk of invention. Every day is a fresh experience if you open your mind to the infinite possibilities that this city presents.

But the day didn't even end there. I finished up with a meeting for coffee with the secretary of the British Vietnam Friends Association, a meeting to find out about the aims of the organisation and how I could get involved with their charitable work. I found out in depth the long term effects of the chemical weapon, Agent Orange, deployed in the Vietnam War by the Americans and how it is still wreaking havoc 30 years later.

We stand on the brink of war once more, but as Len Aldis, the man I met today noted in his proposal to Parliament, wars do not end when the bombs stop falling, but the devastation continues long after, in the lands and in the minds of the people.

Agent Orange was commisioned by the US government and has caused long term suffering to innocent people who were born long after the war ended. These physically and mentally deformed babies were not responsible for any of what hapenned in Vietnam to American soldiers but America as usual, refuses to acknowledge responsibility for this act of international criminal negligence. And to add insult to injury, any families of American Veterans who suffer any ill effects attributed to Agent Orange will be entitled to compensation from the government under a bill passed by the Congress.

It seems that the two faces of American self-righteous double standards are on clear display once more.

If you want to do something about this please support Early Day Motion 228, The Stockholm Declaration on war and the environment in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia, by contacting your local MP to add his name in support of this motion.

So, with a bit of art, eastern philosophy, voluntary work, that magic thing I'm not telling you about, and politics under the belt today I think I can safely say I had a really wicked day. A day that really, I can only ever see happening in this town.

Vive La Londres! Vive La Vie!
Missiles at Warwick Part 4 - "The grand scheme"

Hey Mister Warwick boy back for more
Take these notes fore you walk out that door
You run the risk of turnin into a whore
A faceless bitch who owns a 4x4

"Tell me exactly what do you mean
Nothin daddys money can't buy for me
No pimpin my ass for no drugs and weed
I'll drive daddys porsche to my graduate scheme"

You're pimpin your ass metaphorically
You're systematically shafted allegorically
You've sold your soul categorically
Wave a fond goodbye to creativity

A life constrained to curriculum
No senses left you're just deaf and dumb
Blind to a world of possibility
You are now part of The Company

You claim to be an independent entity
Yet sign up to be another number quantity
Always proclaiming that you are free
But always constrained by a boundary

"But I would go and work for a charity"
Words themselves will never convince me
Words are nothing but promises
Broken ever so easily
Action manifest is delivery
Words without actions are a fuel tank empty

Do a graduate scheme by all means
The choice is yours to take
Buy don't say you'd rather be somewhere else
Because that would make you fake

A man is only his integrity
If you can't be what you love then learn to love what you be
Yours is your life and leave mine to Me
But don't pretend to want what you can't even see

Andy 2003
Richard and Judy; Social analysts

Unemployed days are certainly long days as many of you will well be aware, and many bums like myself will find themselves at one point or another confronted by the frankly uninspiring sight that is Richard Madeley and Judy Finnegan aka Richard and Judy on daytime TV. This in itself acts as a deterrent for many people and it is a little known fact that the reason these two Daily Mail-reading twats are still gracing our screens on a daily basis is precisely that their innate drivel drives many people to work.

This morning, watching a small slice of Matthew Wright in the morning for tabloid bite-size opinion with my (late) breakfast, I saw an outraged Wright and his panel talking about the new Russian manufactured teen girl group, Tatu, whose video apparently features a scene of the two underage girls kissing intimately.

Big fucking deal.

I was unaware of this particular bonus feature of the track, and as yet was unconvinced. They went on to talk about how the manager was a child psychologist who had made it plain to the press that he had manufactured the group to shock and sell records. Still not convinced about the song, I didn’t really fancy wasting my money on being sold something by a Russian marketing ploy.

Then something very amusing happened. He gets Richard and Judy on. Judy is looking very serious indeed about the issue, and immediately bursts into a rant that goes a little something like this…

Judy - I think it’s disgusting using underage sexual acts to sell records. At the end of the day, the manager should be ashamed of himself. He has handpicked these two girls because they are nubile, young and easily manipulated. They portray an image of underage sexuality and there is a term for getting turned on by images of underage children and this is paedophilia

Richard - Yes indeed. What he has effectively done is aimed to lure in paedophiles. In a society where we are so obsessed with paedophilia and catching child abusers how could we allow the graphic depiction of such filth onto our screens?!

Judy - It’s disgusting and will deprave our children

Richard - What the manager has done is effectively identify a gap in the market. He is trying to appeal to paedophiles. It’s the paedophile gap.

Judy - Irresponsible. This kind of filth should be banned.

Now I could pick a million holes in this, but I was so busy laughing at the idea of a paedophile gap in the market that I feel that any other gripes I have pale into insignificance before this mighty argument! A paedophile gap!!!!

I can just see the manager of Tatu in the office sitting down and saying, “Well, the market is saturated with material for racists, bigamists, the disillusioned, the unemployed, mechanics, and lawyers but I feel that one section of society is just not catered for. Ahhhh I know! Eureka!”

Yes, all you kids out there getting turned on by the sight of two fine young ladies with their tongues in each others mouths, this record is for you, you dirty paedos. The mighty Richard and Judy have spoken.

And it was after Richard and Judy adjudged me to be a paedophile on purchase of this single did I decide that, although I hate the song I may as well get a couple of copies just to piss them off. Can't wait til it gets to #1 - hide your daughters R&J cos the whole country are after your kiddies!
C++ and Big H, what part exactly of the words "I do not want to ever join a banking graduate scheme" are you having problems understanding?

Let me explain the minutiae of this particular statement to you. As you both know I recently went to the states where much time was spent in contemplation of the road ahead (both Bill Gates' book and of my life). Much of my thoughts you will find on Mischief USA and much on getting to grips with my own thoughts, grappling with the workings of my complex inner mind.

Often I utilised my writing as a meditative tool, writing to free my mind from the shackles of conscious thought, because writing is to me thinking without thinking. It is for me my Taoist essence, as Bruce Lee espoused fighting without fighting, the formless form, art without conscious thought.

Norman Cousins once said

"No one has ever been able to define or synthesize that precarious, splendid, and perhaps untidy instant when the creative process begins. This is what the uniqueness of the artist is all about. The transcendant right of the artist is the right to create even though he may not always know what he is doing"

Through these musings I realised some thing that thinking itself was unable to give me sufficient insight into. I acknowledged my system of ethics and realised what I really am. I know that I cannot commit myself to a life of being a graduate accountant because that would not be fulfilling my potential at all.

Big H, I see for a start that you do not quite grasp fully the extent to which I despise the graduate mould. But don't get me wrong this is not the primary reason why I cannot bring myself to work on a graduate scheme. You must understand that my ethical reservations would not allow me to work within an impositional artless system, when I believe that everybody should strive to put something into the world and make the most of every day they have. Life is too short to look back with regret like what you are doing, and you of all people should know that.

I realised in the states that my entire ethical system rests, as I had suspected before, on a simple base principle. My ethical system in two simple words can be described as No Compromise. It is similar in principle to Alginian ethics (Tal) and draws many parallels with that system of thought, as well as mining Taoism, Sun-Tzu, Confucious and others for inspiration.

It's a simple system really, which depends entirely on just being yourself to the best of your abilities, always being 100% honest and living life to the max to extract the full extent of human experience from life. I believe that only by living a system of No Compromise can I achieve my full potential. And a graduate scheme smacks far too much of compromise to me, compromising your integrity daily to bow down to a company that I really don't give a damn about. This would violate so many of my fundamental principles of ethical conduct I would hang my head in shame.

This is not about money. My whole life is no longer about money, because I am here to achieve a far higher purpose than that. We all are, but only some of us ever get around to it. This is much more than that, this is a question of violating an entire moral code, going against everything that I hold to be true and good and I'm not about to do that.