Bristol... Glasgow... Oblivion... I think I took a wrong turn.
The dilemma: how to disappoint those closest to you. I fucked up.
Arrived in Bristol on Friday, did an afternoon's work and headed into town with my colleagues. None of us really knew the city so we ducked into the first place we could find. We had some bar snacks for dinner and started to hit the drink hard.
I don't quite know what happened next. Perhaps I don't want to know, but the reason this is such a big deal for me is that, to a greater or lesser extent, I have always been against the use of recreational drugs (even weed, even alcohol - the former I gave up a few years ago when I realised it wasn't doing me any good, the latter I would still like to give up). There seems to be a distinction in most people's moral code between those things in which they believe and upon which they act, and those in which they apparently believe but upon which they don't act: I always want to be edging closer to putting my beliefs into practice. This weekend, I think I edged away... In the mocking words of one of my colleagues, I "broke one of my own rules." Again.
Cocaine. My finger is twitching nervously on the self-destruct button while I'm getting ever-better at keeping up the act.
Your mind is racing ahead. One way or the other, I've already been judged. So be it.
"And what happened to all that appreciation you boasted, you self-righteous piece of shit?"
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Ruse
The road trip continues. Newcastle: cold, grey, uninspiring. No wonder Billy Elliot wanted to get out of here... Fuck, even I'd take up ballet.
A while ago at work, somebody asked me what I was thinking about. This was at a time when I was in a particularly ironic mode of thought, and disenchanted by my perception that nobody at the office quite got me, I answered "Oh, just, basically whether a teleological theory of ethics is necessarily incompatible with the tenets of the world's major monotheistic religions." Childish, pretentious, contrived... But funny. At least for me.
At face value, this is in fact an absurd question, which only serves to make me even more despicable. It's as if I'm saying "I'm just wondering whether two plus one necessarily makes three." But in a foreign language. I really can be an absolute arsehole from time to time.
I thought of this absurd question again this morning as I watched a BBC interview with Jack Straw and Condoleezza Rice. Obviously, the two were asked about Iraq, and they replied with the kind of sound bytes and carefully-phrased policy quotations we have all come to expect.
They talked about Bush and the common desire to give people the gifts of freedom and democracy... So many questions ran through my mind, very few of them original. When the Iraq War broke out I was decidedly neutral, hesitating to climb aboard any of the vociferous bandwagons and placing a great deal of hope in the Bramerican leaders having some benign reason to start a war, a reason none of the public would find out until X years later when the information (I wanted to use the word intelligence but my fingers actively refused) was de-classified. How naive I seem to have been.
My (alcohol-ridden, slightly confused) thought pattern this morning ended with the conclusion that Dubya is the sum of the inconsistency I was allegedly pondering that day in the office... It went something like this:
Is Bush really a religious man? If so, how can he justify the inevitable violence and death toll of the war and its seemingly never-ending hangover? Is this therefore a case of "you can't make an omlette without cracking a few eggs"? This ends-justify-the-means explanation - should he choose to offer it (perhaps he already has?) - would make Bush a teleologist. But what type of teleologist would he be? Surely not any kind of conventional utilitarian - can he really suggest that this war is, globally speaking, utility-enhancing, without pissing a pint of oil down the inside of his trousers? Can you enforce democracy? Who decides that a nation should convert from one political system (albeit a brutal dictatorship) to another? Who decides those of the world's powers which can have nuclear capability and those which can't? What the fuck is the U.N. there for?
As I have said - these thoughts are by no means original: I and many others have been posing these questions for months, if not years. But the answers to all of these questions still leave an awful taste in my mouth and I think I have lost all faith in our lacklustre interpretation of democracy. It seems that no matter which political system we try to introduce, human greed and self-interest infect and eventually monopolise it. What was it that Milan Kundera wrote about the fathers of Communism tearing their eyes out if they saw how it was implemented?
A while ago at work, somebody asked me what I was thinking about. This was at a time when I was in a particularly ironic mode of thought, and disenchanted by my perception that nobody at the office quite got me, I answered "Oh, just, basically whether a teleological theory of ethics is necessarily incompatible with the tenets of the world's major monotheistic religions." Childish, pretentious, contrived... But funny. At least for me.
At face value, this is in fact an absurd question, which only serves to make me even more despicable. It's as if I'm saying "I'm just wondering whether two plus one necessarily makes three." But in a foreign language. I really can be an absolute arsehole from time to time.
I thought of this absurd question again this morning as I watched a BBC interview with Jack Straw and Condoleezza Rice. Obviously, the two were asked about Iraq, and they replied with the kind of sound bytes and carefully-phrased policy quotations we have all come to expect.
They talked about Bush and the common desire to give people the gifts of freedom and democracy... So many questions ran through my mind, very few of them original. When the Iraq War broke out I was decidedly neutral, hesitating to climb aboard any of the vociferous bandwagons and placing a great deal of hope in the Bramerican leaders having some benign reason to start a war, a reason none of the public would find out until X years later when the information (I wanted to use the word intelligence but my fingers actively refused) was de-classified. How naive I seem to have been.
My (alcohol-ridden, slightly confused) thought pattern this morning ended with the conclusion that Dubya is the sum of the inconsistency I was allegedly pondering that day in the office... It went something like this:
Is Bush really a religious man? If so, how can he justify the inevitable violence and death toll of the war and its seemingly never-ending hangover? Is this therefore a case of "you can't make an omlette without cracking a few eggs"? This ends-justify-the-means explanation - should he choose to offer it (perhaps he already has?) - would make Bush a teleologist. But what type of teleologist would he be? Surely not any kind of conventional utilitarian - can he really suggest that this war is, globally speaking, utility-enhancing, without pissing a pint of oil down the inside of his trousers? Can you enforce democracy? Who decides that a nation should convert from one political system (albeit a brutal dictatorship) to another? Who decides those of the world's powers which can have nuclear capability and those which can't? What the fuck is the U.N. there for?
As I have said - these thoughts are by no means original: I and many others have been posing these questions for months, if not years. But the answers to all of these questions still leave an awful taste in my mouth and I think I have lost all faith in our lacklustre interpretation of democracy. It seems that no matter which political system we try to introduce, human greed and self-interest infect and eventually monopolise it. What was it that Milan Kundera wrote about the fathers of Communism tearing their eyes out if they saw how it was implemented?
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Never mind... [sic]
Can't really blog too much at the moment - I'm chained to the desk in our Manchester office. This is the big work slog which has threatened for months: apparently, I'll be working 7/7 until Christmas from now on - a different city every week. The work isn't exactly mentally taxing though and I'm with good people, all expenses paid. I can't complain.
Somebody just blasted Nirvana out from our primitive hi-fi in the office. For the first time in years, I didn't cringe. It's OK to listen to Nirvana again - I've been liberated!
Somebody just blasted Nirvana out from our primitive hi-fi in the office. For the first time in years, I didn't cringe. It's OK to listen to Nirvana again - I've been liberated!
Friday, October 07, 2005
The Recluse
So much to say so much to say so much to say
I'm not sure how popular Dave Matthews is in Britain...
I have spent most of the last couple of weeks in our regional offices up and down the country. Yet another contract extension, despite one of our office heads complaining to my boss about me turning up to work drunk and on the verge of a massive hangover. My reaction: go and see the boss immediately on my arrival back to London, confess and assure him that this type of unprofessional behaviour would not be repeated. It seems to have done the trick.
I had better be careful though - I have a habit of turning the bridge into a tightrope. Then again, I've never really been that comfortable with the easy ride. Tempted to make a pun here but it's far too obvious.
I think that, in a way, I came of age last night. It was a work piss up - in fact my boss' leaving party. I'll miss him. There's always been a perceptible air of discomfort between us, but he's a pretty admirable guy in many respects and he's shown a considerable amount of faith in me. He still doesn't know what to make of me though: I am reliably informed that he thinks I'm gay (by gay, I'm not sure whether his implication is merely derogatory, factual or both). It doesn't really bother me - I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to play up to this, and in any case I'm quite a demonstrative person by nature. I put this down to my ethnic/ cultural upbringing and my good fortune to have been born at a time when homosexuality was more acceptable - neither of which I have in common with him... Maybe he doesn't care and he's just bowing to what he perceives as his macho obligation to follow the flock. Then again, maybe I don't care what he thinks about my sexuality...
Anyway, nos moutons... It was sufficiently late for us all to be quite slaughtered on the boss' bar tab, and, feeling a little like Mark Renton in Trainspotting, lack of woman set in... Standing around, I noticed a very cute little girl heading my way. She was smiling at me - this doesn't exactly happen every time I go out (although perhaps slightly more often than I notice - I would say that I'm pretty bad at reading female signals/ body language). We hadn't yet had chance to introduce ourselves to each other, and she was dragged onto the dance floor by one of her friends...
Five minutes or so later, she headed back my way, still smiling, made sustained eye contact and was clearly intending to engage me in conversation when she was collared by a colleague of mine who (I presume) hadn't seen any of this. Long story short, she chatted to him for quite a while, they danced, they kissed, he took her number...
My coming of age was this: despite my intoxicated state, I managed to suppress/ ignore my childish, pride-ridden, jealous instincts and get on with the evening without even so much as a grumble to anyone. On reflection, this doesn't necessarily sound like a very impressive achievement, but the point is that I surprised myself because I acted contrary to my self-expectations.
My colleague told me today that he has no intention of calling her.
On a personal level, bitter inevitably follows sweet and I have recently been disturbed by the following thought: why is there not an orderly queue at my door? Bullshit and modesty aside, I'm 25, at worst above-average-looking (or so I'm told - thanks mum), intelligent, well-paid blah blah blah, and not only have I been single for most of my adult life (give or take a couple of years - I don't understand serial monogamy anyway), but this hasn't really been my choice, no matter how much my friends assure me I have "too high standards". What's going wrong here? Where's my queue? I honestly haven't been looking - so that's a cliché which simply doesn't apply to me...
The frustration and bewilderment of returning to my bed alone every fucking night and having nobody there with me... There's so much I want to do and to share, but so few candidates for what I risk believing - if only temporarily - is not as desirable or worthy a position as I would like to think... I'm turning the comments off on this one for fear of the inevitable sympathy postings - that would really piss me off.
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ...'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
The Smiths - I Know it's Over
I'm not sure how popular Dave Matthews is in Britain...
I have spent most of the last couple of weeks in our regional offices up and down the country. Yet another contract extension, despite one of our office heads complaining to my boss about me turning up to work drunk and on the verge of a massive hangover. My reaction: go and see the boss immediately on my arrival back to London, confess and assure him that this type of unprofessional behaviour would not be repeated. It seems to have done the trick.
I had better be careful though - I have a habit of turning the bridge into a tightrope. Then again, I've never really been that comfortable with the easy ride. Tempted to make a pun here but it's far too obvious.
I think that, in a way, I came of age last night. It was a work piss up - in fact my boss' leaving party. I'll miss him. There's always been a perceptible air of discomfort between us, but he's a pretty admirable guy in many respects and he's shown a considerable amount of faith in me. He still doesn't know what to make of me though: I am reliably informed that he thinks I'm gay (by gay, I'm not sure whether his implication is merely derogatory, factual or both). It doesn't really bother me - I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to play up to this, and in any case I'm quite a demonstrative person by nature. I put this down to my ethnic/ cultural upbringing and my good fortune to have been born at a time when homosexuality was more acceptable - neither of which I have in common with him... Maybe he doesn't care and he's just bowing to what he perceives as his macho obligation to follow the flock. Then again, maybe I don't care what he thinks about my sexuality...
Anyway, nos moutons... It was sufficiently late for us all to be quite slaughtered on the boss' bar tab, and, feeling a little like Mark Renton in Trainspotting, lack of woman set in... Standing around, I noticed a very cute little girl heading my way. She was smiling at me - this doesn't exactly happen every time I go out (although perhaps slightly more often than I notice - I would say that I'm pretty bad at reading female signals/ body language). We hadn't yet had chance to introduce ourselves to each other, and she was dragged onto the dance floor by one of her friends...
Five minutes or so later, she headed back my way, still smiling, made sustained eye contact and was clearly intending to engage me in conversation when she was collared by a colleague of mine who (I presume) hadn't seen any of this. Long story short, she chatted to him for quite a while, they danced, they kissed, he took her number...
My coming of age was this: despite my intoxicated state, I managed to suppress/ ignore my childish, pride-ridden, jealous instincts and get on with the evening without even so much as a grumble to anyone. On reflection, this doesn't necessarily sound like a very impressive achievement, but the point is that I surprised myself because I acted contrary to my self-expectations.
My colleague told me today that he has no intention of calling her.
On a personal level, bitter inevitably follows sweet and I have recently been disturbed by the following thought: why is there not an orderly queue at my door? Bullshit and modesty aside, I'm 25, at worst above-average-looking (or so I'm told - thanks mum), intelligent, well-paid blah blah blah, and not only have I been single for most of my adult life (give or take a couple of years - I don't understand serial monogamy anyway), but this hasn't really been my choice, no matter how much my friends assure me I have "too high standards". What's going wrong here? Where's my queue? I honestly haven't been looking - so that's a cliché which simply doesn't apply to me...
The frustration and bewilderment of returning to my bed alone every fucking night and having nobody there with me... There's so much I want to do and to share, but so few candidates for what I risk believing - if only temporarily - is not as desirable or worthy a position as I would like to think... I'm turning the comments off on this one for fear of the inevitable sympathy postings - that would really piss me off.
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ...'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
The Smiths - I Know it's Over