1. Her Majesty's Government has granted me unrestricted leave to remain in the UK until January 2011. Suckers!
2. I have left the gentle world of publishing to enter the gladiatorial corporate arena. I work in Mayfair, I have business cards. I am a headhunter.
3. I am returning to the East Coast for a brief tour from 22nd May, to include Boston, Providence, and NYC. I will be accompanied by a particular young man with an English accent. See y'all then.
08 April 2009
05 November 2008
ch-ch-changes
One of the things about America is this perpetual dream of upward mobility, of individual potential and endless access. When we are very young our teachers look around the room, at scores of six-year-olds sat cross-legged on the carpet, and they say, 'Any one of you could become president'.
Of course, having had only privileged white male Protestant presidents - and one Catholic who was quickly assassinated - that wasn't really true.
Until now.
Finally, finally, the progression and enlightenment that my generation can promise is beginning to shine through the cracks of a long history of oppression, elitism, and exclusion. The real work will begin soon, and our new president will be tested and criticised and eventually he'll falter, but today we can just be excited. Happy. Optimistic.
And next time let's elect a woman, okay?
soundtrack: Human - The Killers
Of course, having had only privileged white male Protestant presidents - and one Catholic who was quickly assassinated - that wasn't really true.
Until now.
Finally, finally, the progression and enlightenment that my generation can promise is beginning to shine through the cracks of a long history of oppression, elitism, and exclusion. The real work will begin soon, and our new president will be tested and criticised and eventually he'll falter, but today we can just be excited. Happy. Optimistic.
And next time let's elect a woman, okay?
soundtrack: Human - The Killers
15 October 2008
leave the bourbon on the shelf
Tomorrow I have a temp assignment - the first one I've managed to acquire - at a stock music company near Baker Street.
When Catherine Tate was a temp, she met Doctor Who.
Just saying.
soundtrack: Under the Gun - The Killers
When Catherine Tate was a temp, she met Doctor Who.
Just saying.
soundtrack: Under the Gun - The Killers
09 August 2008
practically floored
Writing this dissertation is by far the most challenging academic venture I've ever attempted. With 15,000 words ahead, how do you pick the first one? How do you write the beginning when you're not sure what the end will say? And, many many pages into History of Sexuality, what the hell is Foucault talking about?
There may not be enough Diet Coke in the world, friends.
soundtrack: The Hindu Times - Oasis
There may not be enough Diet Coke in the world, friends.
soundtrack: The Hindu Times - Oasis
11 July 2008
sum of our days
Lots of things have happened. Some very good things, some very bad things, and many in between. And I suppose on this dull, rainy Friday, I thought I would tell you that I'm still here, and I still miss you all.
xx
'Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this. The accounting is scrupulous. The shape is drawn. No line can be erased.'
- Cormac McCarthy
xx
'Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this. The accounting is scrupulous. The shape is drawn. No line can be erased.'
- Cormac McCarthy
15 May 2008
they are the lanterns
Yesterday I went to Leicester for a freelance job. And I decided that if this whole publishing/acadaemia/whatever thing doesn't work out, I'll become a train conductor.
St Pancras is as amazing as they say, distant cathedral ceiling, well-dressed women drinking champagne and speaking French, soothing digital displays instead of the old tat-tat-tat ticker boards. In my business attire I tried to adopt the air of someone catching a Eurostar to Paris, a quick but essential meeting, I'll be back tomorrow, it's just they require my expertise, my power.
Illusion fades as I ascend the escalator to the East Midlands area, where an anxious crowd has gathered as the trains to such exotic locations as Sheffield, Derby, and Nottingham move from 'delayed' to 'cancelled'. I read about John Cleese's divorce and the Myanmar junta in The Sun and, thirty minutes late, make it onto a crowded train.
Then it all works out.
My iPod plays all the right songs as the train barrels out of London, racing across great green swathes of countryside, past sheep and dappled grey ponies, through fields spread with yellow flowers. The train glides to a stop beside the ornate, country-cute carved trellises at Wellingborough, then resumes its northbound roll. Something about the speed, the view, the baby blue sky, the sight of a distant church spire piercing a low, lazy cloud, is so invigorating, so redeeming.
As an American it can be easy to write off Britain, to decide not to take it seriously. It's too small, too homogenous, too old-fashioned, the police don't even carry guns. But that's about as ethnocentric as eating McDonald's in China. England is Albion, ancient, crowded, a bit fraught, a bit worried, but always looking forward. Always looking up.
soundtrack: Antichrist Television Blues - Arcade Fire
St Pancras is as amazing as they say, distant cathedral ceiling, well-dressed women drinking champagne and speaking French, soothing digital displays instead of the old tat-tat-tat ticker boards. In my business attire I tried to adopt the air of someone catching a Eurostar to Paris, a quick but essential meeting, I'll be back tomorrow, it's just they require my expertise, my power.
Illusion fades as I ascend the escalator to the East Midlands area, where an anxious crowd has gathered as the trains to such exotic locations as Sheffield, Derby, and Nottingham move from 'delayed' to 'cancelled'. I read about John Cleese's divorce and the Myanmar junta in The Sun and, thirty minutes late, make it onto a crowded train.
Then it all works out.
My iPod plays all the right songs as the train barrels out of London, racing across great green swathes of countryside, past sheep and dappled grey ponies, through fields spread with yellow flowers. The train glides to a stop beside the ornate, country-cute carved trellises at Wellingborough, then resumes its northbound roll. Something about the speed, the view, the baby blue sky, the sight of a distant church spire piercing a low, lazy cloud, is so invigorating, so redeeming.
As an American it can be easy to write off Britain, to decide not to take it seriously. It's too small, too homogenous, too old-fashioned, the police don't even carry guns. But that's about as ethnocentric as eating McDonald's in China. England is Albion, ancient, crowded, a bit fraught, a bit worried, but always looking forward. Always looking up.
soundtrack: Antichrist Television Blues - Arcade Fire
22 April 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)