LISTENING TO - Heavy Heavy by Young Fathers

Since winning the Mercury Prize in 2014 with their excellent debut album Dead, Young Fathers have continued to produce music of such a consistent inventiveness and strength. It is a bit of a puzzle to me that they have, as yet, not broken through to a much bigger audience. On their third album Cocoa Sugar they appeared to be tilting their sound towards being more commercial and radio friendly. With Heavy Heavy they make something of a return to their signature area built around pounding drum, three vocal front men basics, a mix of rants, spoken word and chanting. There is much to hear on Heavy Heavy that I would say is really great music well worth hearing. Rice and I Saw, are fabulous catchy tracks by anyone's estimation. Though there is often a sense they are never quite reaching what they are fully capable of.  They do occasionally produce tracks like Ululation which by my books is a genius piece of music.

They are so invested in pushing the sonic envelope all the time that their albums are quite restless affairs, venturing and sweeping all over the place. Their eclectic mix of sources and influences has meant they are not an easily catagorisable band. In a record store you could find their music in any number of musical genres. Its never that clear to me what they are lyrically about. I guess there mysteriousness, and lack of any desire to pander to mainstream conventions just means its harder, but not impossible to understand where they are coming from. Which is a real shame because Heavy Heavy is a really strong fourth album with a grand sense of expansiveness as well as propulsively driven tracks.  Well worthy of battering your lugs with anytime of day or night.

SCREEN SHOT - Triangle of Sadness

Yaya and Chris are models and Instagram influencers. They are at the end of a very swish restaurant meal. When it comes to payment, there's an awkward pause, Chris pays. But he's not happy to let it rest there and challenges Yaya over leaving this space of uncertainty, even though they had previously agreed it would be her turn to pick up the tab. Yaya is incensed, what is he inferring? An uncomfortable argument ensues that teeters on the edge of becoming ludicrous. It captures a contemporary situation when someone thinks they are simply doing the right thing, but begins to believe they are being taken for granted. Does Yaya want a fair equal division over who pays, or is she just allowing it to slip into it being 'the man who pays' because that suits her. She boasts all the time how she earns way more than he does, but when she's feeling a bit mean or short this month, she does this, but can never admit that? This relationship does not appear to have legs.

The scene shifts to an expensive yacht full of wealthy patrons. All the yacht staff have been instructed to respond only with an affirmative yes to whatever the paying guests request of them. Yaya and Chris are here on a freebie given to Yaya as a bribe to a successful influencer. They sit at meals with a variety of extremely wealthy couples, the Russian oligarch who made his money literally out of shit, the sweet elderly couple whose income is generated from munitions sales. Losing 25% of their income when land mines were banned, but they made it through that tough time together didn't they? One evening at the Captain's dinner, the meal has to be delayed because the Russian oligarch's wife insists all the staff must go swimming in the ocean. Though they are warned the seafood food will go off. What follows during an expected storm is an immense amount of food poisoning and vomiting. Its almost symphonic.

And so you get the drift what this movie's main mode and purpose is. It lampoons sometimes with these great gross set pieces, but also in a sharply observed phrase or situation. Showing the unreality extremely rich people live in. The superficiality accompanied by boredom. One minute an elegant refined meal the next vomit and shit everywhere. Its as if the underlying dark side of where their wealth comes from erupts into the room. That said it never takes its parody to the extent of being a clichéd caricature. This is a very smart and cleverly constructed conceit, in script and film, one that is hugely enjoyable.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

FINISHED READING - Buried by Alice Roberts

 

Sometimes its not advisable to read two books by the same author consecutively. When you read a book you become tuned in to the writers style, mode of expression and themes. Alice Roberts previous book Ancestors is a great read. Buried if taken on its own merits is good too. But one can't fail to make comparisons if you read one after the other. Themes overlap, some of the background is repeated. It can feel a lesser book simply because it appears to offer you more of the same, however good that is. What is new in it can feel less engaging.

Taking all of that into consideration, Buried had for me a less satisfying overall structure. Its based of a series of objects found in burials and what that told you about who the dead were, where they came from and changes in funerary practices. There are, however, a couple of really excellent chapters. One was on burials where heads have been decapitated and placed at the skeletons feet or on the stomach. Apparently this a quite common occurrence in Roman Britain. There are a few elsewhere in Europe but most examples are found here. Understanding why that was is still a matter of huge conjecture. Why decapitate them? It maybe a execution, but for what reason. To stop the dead from wandering? Does that mean they were considered witches or demoniacally posssesed. Were they slaves, was it racially motivated, did they come from all come from another country? Was the decapitation seen as a punishment by society, or is all this just 21st century archeology making incorrect judgements as to why anyone would do such a thing?

The second engaging chapter explores the contentious issue of whether there ever was an Anglo Saxon invasion. The story originates from Gildas a contemporary chronicler. He says that the Anglo Saxons were invited here as mercenaries to help in repelling persistent raiders, and once that job was done they stayed and basically took over England by force. Venerable Bede and The Anglo Saxon Chronicles took Gildas's version as true and repeated it almost unquestioningly. And the Anglo Saxon invasion has been treated as gospel pretty much ever since.

However, archeological evidence across the length and breadth of England has unearthed pretty much zilch to support the idea of there ever having been an invasion. Hence, Gildas is now viewed as the dispenser of fake history, and unreliable as a historian. But, because there were certainly Anglo Saxon influences abroad across the length and breadth of the country, something was happening not only culturally, but also linguistically. Because out of this cross fertilisation emerges the first forms of Old English. So what happened, did everyone just intermarry and become absorbed into what was left of the tribes of England? 

A recent theory is that even during the Roman occupation, the existing tribal relations and connections with the Angles, Jutes etc in Europe continued. So when the Romans left those older allegiances carried on and were reinforced. But it wasn't an invasion more of a constant drip drip drip of significant Anglo Saxon influences and individuals arriving. Until everyone pretty much forgot they were once not Anglo Saxon. Essentially they are saying the time frame of the Anglo Saxons increasing presence in England may not just span the post Roman period, but the three centuries of Roman occupation and before. It had been going on for a very long time. 

There is some good explorations of the issues surrounding interpretation and provenance. And the increasing value of aDNA and genome research in providing evidence of migration and origins,

CARROT REVIEW - 5/8

 

Who We Say We Are - 2) Fixed and Fluid

We are born with a consciousness, a body and a mind. Whether that birth biology can be overridden or denied, is debatable. When it comes to gender is it - mostly fixed at birth, a purely external outcome of our biology? Or is gender constructed and elaborated upon by each individual in the context of their biology and surrounding social culture? All of us get muddled about what exactly we are talking about once we enter this area. In truth biology, sexual orientation, gender and identity all these things overlap and intersect. Not everything fixed can be as fluid as we'd like, and not everything fluid can become fixed. Gender is an ongoing conversation between ones internal experience and external influences.

The convention of our culture is that gender is fixed, and its part of a binary, immovably male or female. For most of us that can be how it presents itself.  I've never thought of myself as anything other than male. I have a male body that I inhabit with a gay sensibility and mode of expression. I inhabit it with, for want of a better term, a 'gay soul'. This has always felt the most normal natural thing. It wasn't a problem for me. But what if it was? Imagine what that would be like?

My feelings, however, did force me to question who I was and the surrounding male heterosexual conventions I was encircled by.  Without that experience perhaps I too would be a baffled, defensive, angry man when faced with a view of gender that was open and fluid? However, I am sure all of us, whether male, female, heterosexual, homosexual or otherwise, have all had our issues and struggled in our own way with traditional gender roles and conventions that are forced upon us. If only in trying to live up to them. So much psychological distress arises out of them - what is it to be manly or womanly? - what it is to be a good parent, the pressures and expectations differing whether you are a Father and Mother - what do we need to do in order to be accepted, respected, loved and successful?

Once I became aware of and more involved with gay sub culture, I began to conform the sense of myself to align with it through my appearance and behaviour. It was as if I needed to pass my exam in basic gay. Chiefly in order to feel I belonged there. I'll admit to camping myself up a bit and sharpening my tongue. I could have remained more flexible and fluid, and just allowed my way of being gay to unfold naturally. But I had neither the confidence or life experience to do that at the time. Instead I did what most people would do, I tried to adjust and fix myself to resemble the gay template I held in my head. 

That didn't last long, as this soon began to grate on me, it felt, and was, inauthentic and lacked integrity. Fundamentally this wasn't how I felt I wanted to be as a gay man. I'm not effeminate or particularly camp, I'm a relatively straight looking guy, with an occasional flamboyant streak, lets say. All I needed to do was stop pretending, stop the performing and allow myself to be whatever I needed to be, whenever I needed to be that. To be flexible and responsive in my way of being me, gay or otherwise. As a gay man, I didn't need to be switched to 'Gay On' all the time.

I've known trans women and lived around one during their transitioning. Twenty plus years ago there was a huge emphasis then on being able to 'pass' as a man or woman. This was easier for some to achieve than others, and a lot of psychological upset and distress haunted this desire to 'pass' and the emotional and financial toll it took to get there. Sadly some became very bitter, did not cope at all well and some unfortunately ended up taking their life. This is likely to still be so today. But there is something in the contemporary non binary fluidity that feels fundamentally a much healthier attitude. People are permitting themselves to be whatever they want to be, and that doesn't mean they have to necessarily transform themselves into any binary gender or cultural stereotype, if they do not wish to. They can construct their own gender, one that can be adjusted and evolve in response to the deepening understanding of themselves.

Because of my experience as a gay man, I have no problem with the idea, that there are people born male or female who inhabit their birth bodies in an entirely different way than I do. Being female in an entirely male orientated world or a male in an entirely female orientated world is invariably discomforting. We continue to struggle as a society with the issues of gender, equal treatment and opportunity. What would it feel like to have the 'wrong' genitalia for your body, or an indeterminate sense of your gender?  Despite my empathy, I can find it difficult to grasp how this might feel. I try to make the imaginative leap, but it is too far beyond my experience. If binary gender difficulties have proved so intractable to resolve, you can see why non binary gender fluidity will just drive some individuals frustratedly up the wall. Unless you've been a wallflower at a wild party, you'll never know what that really feels like.

Women's liberation is built on very clearly expressed views on gendered power relations. If men can assume a female form of self expression, or women can assume a male form of self expression, or any permutation between. This might appear, on the surface at least, to be pushing that binary gender equality way way off message. So trans has been presented as being all about men disempowering women. This time by usurping the boundaries of their gender. This seems to somewhat misrepresent the point by burying it under a standard feminist convention- that trans is entirely about male power. Completely ignoring the women who wish to be transformed into a man. You may have thought defying gender stereotypes and expectations could be viewed as a shared point of view. Providing more energy to a general personal liberation message. But apparently not. Gender fluidity itself is being viewed as part of the usual problem with men. When both pro and against adopt defensive positions unwilling even to be debated. Neither side attempts to understand where other people and their views are coming from. We have a war of screaming attrition going on.

Gender dysphoria, of being externally one gender but feeling internally you are another, can be clinically diagnosed. This indicates gender has a potential range of expression that goes beyond the binary gender presented at birth. Its worth looking at it on the genetic level. For in amongst the dominant XX's and XY's there are rare conditions of three chromosomes XXY and one chromosome XO. There are XY genotypes who develop female characteristics, and XX genotypes who develop male. People have been born, throughout history, with either different genitalia to their biological gender, or have both forms, if only vestigially. Hermaphrodites were often treated as revered and treasured figures, sages and oracles. There appears then to be the potential for significant nuances within what appears on the surface at birth to be a clear binary. The degree of human genetic variance has been hard to establish, with the arrival of genomics this may change.

Human genes don't appear to always take an identifiable linear path when evolving either. Quite often genetic changes drift off from the norm in an indirect, experimental, almost random manner, as if to sees what floats. So it could be misleading to talk about biology, on a genetic level at least, as being fixed. Gender literalists out there for whom everything thing is formed and fixed at ones birth, please pay attention.When you are given tubes of oil paint on your birthday, its more important what make with them in a painting, than keeping the box they came in, in pristine condition.

No matter how many operations you have, or tablets you take. Trans will always be for some a sort of shallow vanity, infecting contemporary discourse, akin to an elaborate way of dressing up, of playing lets pretend. From this perspective being gay could also be viewed as an affectation. 'Posing as a sodamite' as the Marquess of Queensbury once accused Oscar Wilde. Gay can be seen as an erroneous choice you talk yourself into, or are in some way converted or perverted into by unnamed nefarious others. So it is no surprise then that someone who is anti trans may broaden their ire and become anti gay too.

If you've never had to question your sexual orientation because how you feel is the considered norm, you'll tend to kick back hard when the linguistic minefield of a non binary fluidity to gender identity rears its head. Such a thing is not in their experience at all. What they hear sounds like the worst form of deluded fantasy, they're being asked to go along with or actively support the promulgation of. And indeed what is being requested of society is a change that is seismic in its consequence. Perhaps one ought to expect massive resistance and uproar from both ends of the binary genders. For the imaginative leap required is huge.

As I've said before, how you subjectively feel about yourself does not necessarily have anything factual behind it, to support it. It is simply how you feel about your identity. True as this maybe, fighting on this ground would seem to me to be unwise. Facilitating a persons freedom of choice to love how they wish, to chose how they wish to present and express themselves to the world, would perhaps be more fruitful ground. In a democracy its about the liberty to be what we want to be. Are we allowed to choose or not? When one person's liberty conflicts with another person's liberty, how do you resolve that? Particularly if self denial is not an option.

My personal opinion is that there are many forms through which gender can be expressed. There are innumerable him ways to express masculinity. There are innumerable ways to express femininity. There are innumerable ways of expressing asexuality, or of presenting oneself as niether specifically male or female. Gender seems to me to be more of a spectrum, not a monochromatic filter. 

If we allow things to evolve, I see this as only healthy in the longer term. It maybe some of the intractablity within gender equality lies in the rigid adversarial fixedness of its binary arguments. Whatever softens the hard lines of masculinity and femininity might be a good thing. Its about everyone feeling at liberty to live how they wish, free of the obstacles of prejudice and stereotypes. And this can only make our culture richer. As it has throughout history.

WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS? - Carving Fabric

In my vacuous empty headed scrolling through You Tube in the early hours, I come across many many things that truly baffle me. Mainly why they thought this was a remotely interesting thing to do, let alone post. Why bother?, came to mind when I watched this particular video. This person makes a lot of this type of video where they take their wood turning skills and apply them to a totally unworthy source material.

Here they take layers of brightly coloured fabric, which they then soak in plasticy resin goop. Once this has set solid they fix it to a lathe and chisel huge amounts of it off, in long endlessly spilling strands of plastic, and after many minutes end up with a very rough looking garishly coloured bowel shape. But this is not the end, they fill in this rough cut with more plasticy resin goop and give it yet another go, as though all this needed was just a little more refinement.  Yeh, its a bit smoother and shiny, it has novelty value, but its still a pigs ear. I mean was this really worth all that effort?

LISTENING TO - The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte by Sparks

With a new album due in May, the most active and creative septuagenarian band in the world have just dropped the first track from it - The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte. Now I find it hard to be really objective about Sparks, they are for me the nearest thing to my ideal band. Ron Mael is a genius pop songwriter, and this is a classic example. The simplest of lyric, bare as it is, becomes through repetition and small word changes a comment on modern urban existence.

On first listen I thought - oh this sounds a bit thin, why did they chose to release this one?  I began then to hear how spaciously minimal and raw sounding it was. Then I saw the accompanying video, and then I got it. It is simple yet addictively catchy. They've also somehow managed to pursued Cate Blanchett (is she a close neighbour in LA or something ) to perform the most ridiculous piece of dancing to camera I've seen, it is just perfect. Respect to Cate. Meanwhile, in the background observe that Master Ron is doing small routines that subtly upstage the whole affair. This is my latest piece of pure musical joy - for this week, maybe longer. Until the next one rolls in.

SHERINGHAM DIARY 77 - A Bit Of Catholic Gothic

Last weekend was glorious weather here on the North Norfolk coast. Hubby and I took off on Sunday in the car to visit Oxborough Hall. I've been here three times now, and its finally fully reopened after a six million plus refurb of its roof. Currently it is my favourite local stately home. Though the cafe under the stairs continues to underwhelm. 

Oxborough has been lived in by the Earls of Bedingfield for around five hundred years, and what an odd lot they truly were. It has rooms and rooms of dark richly carved furniture, really heavily patterned wall coverings including embossed leather panels, highly coloured and decorated . Then there are the portraits, which are shall we say characterful and if I'm honest the weirdest looking array of ancestors imaginable. Some seeming to have stepped out of a Gothic novel or Gormenghast. Eccentricity on steroids. I love it to bits.

The family have also been devote Catholics all this time. So it must have been tricky, if not a diplomatic minefield, avoiding falling under the executioners axe over it. This visit we also took in the snowdrops which at this time of year beautifully bedeck the woodland surrounding the architectural mish mash that is the house. Surrounded by its magnificent moat. Was this there to keep everyone else outside, or to keep the family securely barricaded in?.

Snowdrops and Catholicism then became a bit of a theme. The next day we traveled to Walsingham, via Stiffkey Stores, a favourite cafe pit stop. We visit Walsingham quite a few times every year, to get a top up on my Anglo-Catholic bling. Christ and crucifixtion I can take or leave. But I do seem to respond strongly to the feminine archetypes in Catholicism. So the Walsingham shrine is right up my street. 

This time I've added to my bling collection a glow in the dark virgin, a ring with ten pictures of Christ on it that rotates, and a beautiful multi coloured cut glass rosary. I really am fascinated by how a piece of very ornate religious jewellery contains the elaborate structure of a daily ritual in the simple arrangement of its beads. There is something I find quite beautiful in that.

We came initially to view the snowdrops in the Abbey grounds, which we have somehow missed in previous years. If you ever get the chance go and see them, there are literally millions of them, forming soft white carpets underneath numerous woodland dells. They are everywhere. I have never seen so many snowdrops in one place. It was simply stunning. 

I am largely over 'the cough perpetual'.  A throaty chesty cough in the mornings remains. I have had some uncharacteristically long nights of sleep. This is where I've had to acknowledge I'm still in recovery. There are days when I feel there's little energy in reserve to draw on. I've begun swimming regularly which has its benefits in improving joint flexibility. But it has also tended to temporarily knock my energy for six.  By the time I get home I'm exhaust-y-pooped. Yet with every week, it exhausts me that little bit less. It is, however, proving salutary to note how draining a two month chest infection/cough has been on my 65 year old body. Particularly as I am used to things not lingering on and on like that, my immune system normally giving them short shrift. Maybe its a sign.

After the frankly hopeless half term trade, the following week has recovered a little credibility, relatively. Takings remain modest yet unremarkable. We continue to plan ahead, particularly with our making. My making list has suddenly grown quite lengthy. Currently half way through building up stocks of hand made notebooks. With coasters, soap dishes, clocks and boxes on my to do list. As we enter March a strong and prolonged cold blast is hitting the coast, sending folk scuttling back to their poorly heated homes. So its not looking like we'll be seeing any Spring uplift in trade anytime soon. 

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This months brilliant business name, a joinery company specialising in sheds and fences, called Plankety Plank.

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Currently trying to lift my jaw off the floor, after listening to our miniature PM extolling the virtues of his new Windsor Framework to a handful of Northern Ireland business folk. About how economically fortunate they now are to be part of the UK and have access to the Single Market in the EU too. Yes, we all had that once upon a time.

And, whilst we are in the political sphere there is Matt the Rat and his former ghost writer Isabel Oakeshott. She of the thousand Whats App files and that strange folded crease in her forehead. What a gullible fool Hancock is. Oakeshott has done this for the public's benefit, so she says. But the Daily Telegraph's advance and her dodgy ethical reputation precedes her, and I wouldn't trust her with holding my cafe latte whilst I bent to tie my shoelaces. She only wants to highlight what she believed all along, that the lockdown was not just too severe, but unnecessary. 

Unfortunately what has been revealed so far demonstrates just how incompetent, corrupt and slow to respond of our government was. And the slower their response was the worse the likely lockdown would become. You only ever need a lockdown in a pandemic when you've completely lost control of the situation. And these What's App messages show is exactly how that happens.

It was World Book Day recently, a bit of a nightmare /mixed blessing for bookshops, so I'm told. And so it also is for parents, who have to dig deep into their own creative skills, or back wardrobe in order to dress their kids up in costumes of characters from books. One Cambridge Mum recently opined how unfair this all was on children from poorer households, particularly when three children in her child's class came dressed as characters who feature in their own parents book. Only in Cambridge, only in Cambridge.

 

WINDOW VIEWS -- Memory & Instinct

Look, I've cleaned these windows umpteen times. My records show I first worked them in March 2018, and monthly since then. When your a window cleaner you have a unique view on any of the houses you clean, and the people you clean for. You're given permission to intrude and to stare into their personal space. You can't help but become nosy and intrigued about the folk you clean for. You rarely get to know them very well. Maybe just casual chit chat at the door whilst you sort out what they'd like you to do this visit, or when they pay you. Mostly you are just allowed to get on with it, almost as if you are not really there. Apart from when they're a work at home Mum or Dad, most of them are out when I call, anyway. They leave payment in an agreed place, or I send them a payment link. You do become a good observer in this job. What things are usually in a room. You notice new things appearing, things going missing. The changes in decor. You can't help taking an active human interest.

The Randall's seemed a nice young professional couple, living together when I first cleaned windows for them. Married, once they had the children, two boys, two years apart. Both of them worked in quite high paid jobs, something in finance is what I picked up. The interiors of their house had a bookish bohemian relaxed feel. Unobstructed windows, no blinds, no curtains. Reflections of a youth backpacking and a lot of travelling, post university. It was all there in the photos on the lounge walls, shelves and furniture. As the kids grew up it became inevitably more chaotically organised. And at first I thought nothing of it, because that's just how family homes are, they often are in a right royal mess. But I noticed that over quite a while it was getting progressively worse, the house had not just an unkempt, but an uncared for look. As if it never got cleaned up at all between the periods of dirty turbulent mess. Once the kids were school age, the house was left empty during the day. Everyone was out. No cars in the drive, gates closed. I just did my job and left.

A fortnight ago, I arrived to find both cars parked up in the drive. Odd in itself, as they were rarely there together when I visited. So I expected to see them around as I cleaned the windows. But I saw no one. All the windows not a human presence to be seen anywhere. One bedroom now had curtains closed during the day, which was puzzling. I assumed someone was home ill.  I did the usual cleaning round and moved on to my next client. Sending a payment link to her email address as before. But no payment was made. Usually they responded within a day. But nothing. I started to feel uneasy about it, so ended up popping round at the weekend just to check all was well. Surprised to find both cars still in the same position in the drive. Something even stranger was the state of the kitchen and lounge. No more of a mess than usual, it was exactly the same mess as before. Nothing had moved one centimetre since my last visit, everything left exactly as it was the last time. The dirty plates, half read magazines, cereal packets left open, everything unmoved. I got out my ladders, it was just the same on the second floor. The same bedroom had it's curtains closed. But there were now lots of flies battering themselves against the window. Once I saw that, that was when I phoned the police.

Who We Say We Are - 1) Biology and Expression

Should I sit down and try to describe to you who I am, I might start with a physical description of my appearance. That I"m human, male, the colour of my eyes (green/grey), my height ( 6ft 1in and shrinking ) etc. Then progress on to listing what I like, what I do for a living, my career, my interests, my religion, my politics, my possessions. All the things I can name about myself that I could find that are notable, rational, logical, empirical, physical, evidence indicative of who I am. As though I am a magpie collection of views, habits and biases that I compose into one self, that I identify as being me. 

If I make a statement about my sexual orientation, say those words and declare that I am gay, there are no facts, visible on my exterior body, to support that assertion. We are in an interior realm of the mind, emotions and desire. I have the feeling of being gay, and feelings are rarely as definitive as facts. We value objective external verifiers. I'm in a relationship, but no one else outside of that can know my 'gayness ' for sure. There are signifiers and clues, but they are the sort of thing anyone could wear or adopt. One may start by talking of a history of my observable behaviours, using them like signposts in a story arc.

These may or may not conform to the cliche signs folk think of as 'gay'. Some of which may indeed be present in myself - my interest in the arts and performing for instance. But none of these sorts of signs are ever universally so. Not all artists or performers are gay for instance. There may be a higher percentage of LGBT+ people working in the arts due to factors such as - it being a welcoming vehicle for self expression of a gay sensibility, or you feel more readily accepted for who you are in the arts sector. Stereotypical conventions of what 'gay' is are rarely exclusively so. There are proudly heterosexual men out there, who are effeminate, camp or dress flamboyantly, for instance.

In our desire to understand and then to display who we are, gay men themselves adopt these external 'gay' signifiers. We try them on for size. Its a bit like unfurling queer flags for the external world to read - Oh, he's gay! Such gay conventions Quentin Crisp railed against, because for him they confined the range through which one's self and individuality could be expressed. A gay sensibility becoming reduced to a few camp hand gestures, a mince and a bitch for a mouth. These can be almost as much of a personal prison as conventional expressions of masculinity are.

Being gay, as I've said before, is a feeling for who I am. Over time I've come to know it as being more than the physical expression of sexual desire, it has its own sense of culture. And any culture is cultivated. This feeling may be hard for your 100% hetrosexual to imagine, and it can feel threatening to them too. On a factual biological level what could I say to support that feeling. Not a lot. You may of course point towards some research or other that indicates the existence of a 'gay gene'. My conscious reason for saying I am gay, are not derived from that at all. An understanding of my genetic inheritance was not required in the acceptance of who I am. I did choose to align myself with feeling gay.

In theory you could possess a 'gay gene' but still live a fully heterosexual life. There is a gene for most things these days, probably even shoplifting, but not everyone who has that gene becomes a shoplifter.  There has also to be a nexus of circumstances, opportunity, culture and habit playing their part, into which any genetic predisposition may be thrown in. If you live like a hermit you're unlikely to bump into a gay orgy any time soon. There maybe nature, but this always requires nurture from circumstances. Feelings, not facts, require finding modes of expression.

Saying I am gay is a statement of identity, its one of the things I believe myself to be. Once I felt confident to come out and say it, this was a relief. Because it is important that who we say we are, is visible and known by those around us. Though I know myself to be a much wider range of things than gay itself can encompass. Some of my personality has been built around being gay, other things have been adopted, many have nothing much to do with it at all. My interest in Ancient Egypt, and History in general for instance. Being gay is primarily about who I love, and though that is important, its not the be all and end all of who I am. Statements about who we say we are, are mainly subjective in nature. Being gay is a strong feeling, built around a desire, by my sexual orientation, and to some extent is extended and elaborated in a range of preferences and sensitivities, both aesthetic and otherwise. Ones I resist to call camp, because that is as broad and nebulous an umbrella term as 'gay' is  Its also an unrepresentative one, as not all my aesthetic preferences or likes fit into it at all.

Male and female gender cultures are largely constructed. They have always taken their range of expression beyond simply depending upon the facts of our biological sex. There are sub cultures attached to gender, of which gay is only one. There exists a wide spectrum of manners in which an individual gender can chose to be expressed.  Traditional stereotypical gender roles for men and women, are just some of the roles we can assume and perform as part of society. These may or may not be represented in who we are biologically, or feel we are emotionally. And when these are at variance. When the facade hides an interior person that does not match what you project to the world outside. This produces a stressful dissonance that has to be resolved one way of another. This can only be done via the doorway of imagination and expression.

FINISHED READING - Ancestors by Alice Roberts

Ancestors follows the development of archaeology and of human funerary practices through a seven significant burials. Alice Roberts explains clearly and in extensive detail what those often proto archaeologists thought they had found. For archaeology, like its close cousin history, has to use imagination and interpretive conjecture in order to fill out the gaps that the bare bones do not tell you about. Each era has its own biases and issues that find their way into how they explain what it is they have found. So we have to remain aware that this may not be how it actually was.

And so it was with the Reverend Buckland in 1823, when he came across the remains of The Red Lady of Paviland Cave. Not only did he misread her sex, but deduced she was a witch because of the range of supposedly 'feminine' artifacts he found alongside. Like many men of his era he was looking to find evidence to support biblical events, in this case the flood. He presumed the bones ended up in the cave due to an inundation. Whereas subsequent investigation indicates the distribution of bones in the cave prove it was more deliberate than that. This desire to find factual evidence to support events in the Bible, became ever more desperate as the consequences of Darwin's theory of evolution sank in.

How you chose to interpret evidence from Mesolithic or Neolithic times can be riddled with assumptions around meaning and purpose. You might think that a body placed unburied in a cave would be eaten by scavenging animals. When the latter does happen it is very clearly shown in the bones and their arrangement. But most of the time a body in a cave will be left untouched, gradually becoming buried under silt and rock falls.  We might call it a burial, but is that really what we are observing? What constitutes a burial? Does it require some sort of ritual practice to indicate they have a destination in mind for their brethren, and a purpose in therefore burying them in a particular manner? Not all actions are religious in meaning, some are practical, social or cultural conventions. Ones we cannot perceive from this distance.

The majority of burials found from this early period are male. What does that say about a women's status that their funeral arrangements differed? And when we do find a woman from this period buried intact what does that tell you? If she is buried with a sword and shield does that mean she was a warrior, or was she given a warriors funeral because that was what one did for anyone of high status. Sometimes even in male burials the swords and shields seem purely symbolic and have never seen battle. One cannot assume everyone was a warrior, or that every mysterious thing you discover has religious or sacred significance. Roberts warns of SSSD the Special Sacred Site Delusion which is very prevalent in archaeology.

Ancestors is full of such telling insights into the progress and pitfalls that archaeological investigation has taken over the years. One has to remain generous in our accommodation and understanding of a particular eras interpretive failings and assumptions, because our time is undoubtedly riddled with our own, ones we perhaps cannot yet see. Such as in the choices we make in how we evaluate DNA or genetic evidence, or assumptions about gender roles in early humanity, these remain things we need to be aware of. Alice Roberts brings all her superlative communication skills to bear in the telling of this journey through our past via the medium of archaeology. Never allowing the story she is telling to get buried beneath specialist language when a simple clear explanation will do. Its a thoroughly fascinating and revealing read.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

FEATURE - Writing On A Grain Of Rice

The osteoarthritis in my hands means the strength in my grip is getting weaker. My fingers also lack the dexterity and control to do really detailed work anymore. So if I live to 82 years old, I hope I'm still able to write coherently and legibly. I do not however think I will aim to be able to write like this Japanese man, on a grain of rice or in a miniscule book. Just another example, should you need it, of the obsession with detail to the point of  awestruck wonder, that is the Japanese imagination when set free.

Watch this video click on the link Writing on a grain of rice

FEATURE - Making Japanese Hikihaku Woven Obi

 

I never cease to be amazed at the meticulous level of workmanship and attention to detail of the Japanese. The beauty of the result seemingly always worth going beyond that extra mile. Here its the production of the Hikihaku obi kimono sash. Yes, they make it out of gold or silver threads, which are gold or silver leaf stuck onto thin washi kozo tissue, then cut into ultra thin strips which are then woven into the fabric of the obi. That they also make Hikihaku out of Mother of Pearl and incorporate the beautiful blue of Lapis Lazuli, is when my jaw drops. It is such as shame that this beautiful weaving skill is now almost inevitably bound to vanish as all the remaining Hikihaku makers are in their seventies, and there are now no longer people who even know how to repair their weaving machines. Soetsu Yanagi will be turning in his grave.

WINDOW VIEWS - As Though Viewed From Afar

The note unnerved him. A small brown unaddressed envelope on the hall matt, nothing particularly unique about it. Inside a sharply folded piece of paper, which when opened out revealed a simple sentence printed in pencil - 'That's a nice sandwich' - was all it said. It perplexed him. He hadn't eaten a sandwich at home in many a week. So what the heck does this mean? Who was this person? If they were peeping where were they peeping from? The precision of its execution indicated to him, the writer was male. The sentence began to feel more euphemistic, a nudge nudge innuendo. From an admirer then? An admirer / stalker? As he dwelt on it further questions arose. Hide it away in a drawer. Ignore it. Maybe whoever this is will go away, if he gave it no energy. If he received another one, then he'd go to the police, he assured himself.

Two days later, another small brown envelope, this time with his name boldly printed on it - BEN.  The same style of excessively neat folded paper, which when unfolded revealed the pencilled message - '
You don't know how much pleasure you're giving me Ben ' 

'Ah, you creep, wanking over me are you?'. he conjectured

They must live near. He stood to the side of the window, trying not to be seen peering at the houses and flats across the road. Couldn't see a bloody thing during the day. Night time little better. He talked with his best buddy Alastair,who was quite insistent  -
'For goodness sake just phone the police, before this gets completely out of hand',
'Its just, I think I should have an idea who this is, what if its some one I know?' '
'It is a good idea mate to put a stop to this, right now'

He ignored Alastair's advice, he usually did. Didn't phone the police. Didn't wish to acknowledge why either.  He got a kinky kick out of these notes. Excitedly hanging out for the next one. It felt a dangerous thing he was doing, he knew that. He wasn't the one in control of what happened here. Who was he dealing with? If this all got way out of whack, how could he put a stop to it? Another small brown envelope lay on the matt the next morning. The message today read -
'You should linger by the window more, with your top off. Do it, knowing I'll love it.'
He thought about the message all day while at work. It wasn't a very productive today. By the time he got home there was a frisson of erotic excitement. He was going to do this. Setting up the lamps, deciding the positioning of furniture, what he was going to do. Daring himself to do this, just to prove he could.

Barely had he closed the curtains and begun to dress himself, there was a loud banging on his flat door. 'Mr Swayne, Mr Benjamin Swayne could you come to the door please. We don't want to have to break it down.' 
Ben slowly pulled the bolts back, dropped the latch. By the moment he was finished and opened the door, he was surrounded by police officers, his hands cuffed behind his back. Ben was in a panic, in amongst the noise, rough jostling, his rights being read. He was innocent, in his mind he'd done nothing wrong, this was no one else's business. Not fully grasping why he'd been arrested, until he asked the police directly during his interview back at the station.
'Well, Benjamin, we've just witnessed you exposing yourself to everyone in the street below, haven't we? Plus, for the last few weeks we've been made aware that you've been posting lewd notes to gentlemen in your neighbourhood. Do you remember or acknowledge that this is what has been going on, Ben? Isn't this exactly what happened the last time?' 

It was as though this was happening to someone else, someone he did not know.

LISTENING TO - Growing Up by Peter Gabriel

I've been listening to this track rather a lot lately. It has a fascinating rhythm and dynamic that I rather like. This is despite the fact that I continue to find Peter Gabriel a rather puzzling musical presence. Quite inventive and happy to follow up the widest of musical paths. He's only rarely been a compulsive purchase for me. And I wonder why that is? Some of it lies in is his very archly studied lyrical style that is quite frequently lumpen with imaginative and surreal significance. Even this track Growing Up opens with the line 'Folded in your fleshy purse I am floating once again' which is a particularly vulgar and yucky way to describe someone being in the womb. Delivered with that unique Gabriel vocal which often provokes me to thinking what world does this come from? It has no antecedents that I can fathom. But what is clear is its a characterful voice, but without any discernible soul.

This version of Growing Up was recorded live in the Real World Studios and it has a grinding energ, something I find invariably missing from his studio recorded output. His songs often utilise changing time signatures and mood and these are present here. On this occasion they do give the song added dynamism. Interludes have been a common device he's employed throughout his solo career and in Genesis. You can take the man out of Prog Rock, but never the Prog Rock out of the man.

Don't ask me why, but lately I have been putting myself through relistening to The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway, I find I can only bear it in half hour chunks. I have yet to reach the end of it. This was really Gabriel's baby and has been the fated reason for the original lineup of Genesis breaking up. It is weighed down with portentous ideas of such magnitude your ears die that little bit more with every succeeding minute. All is clumsily strung together into a narrative that is impossible to relate to on an ordinary human emotional level. Its like a six form art project, on the theme of psychology, expanded beyond all credibility. Stuffed with so much 'meaning' it has no air left in it to breath naturally. So the appeal to me of Growing Up continues to perplex, as I have form in frequently finding Gabriel's output unbearable to listen to for long.