London declares war!

BREAKING NEWS: Ladies and gentlemen, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that on this day, London has declared itself in a state of war.

To ensure Londoners make it through this bleak period, the following protocol must be observed at all times;

- Do not go out after 10pm, especially if you're averse to drink, drugs or the dreaded...'homeless' (this should be fine for most of you because you won't be leaving work until 10pm most evenings anyway)

- Stock up on all essentials; coffee, diet Coke, Pret sandwiches, cigarettes and cheap champagne are 100% necessities

- If it is absolutely unavoidable that you must venture out, be sure to avert your gazes from anyone you may come across. Eye contact is strictly prohibited (not to mention wholly uncomfortable)

- Talk to no-one; any of those people around you could be dangerous. Keep yourself to yourself at all times

Sounds awful, huh? But then again, how is this different from any other day in the capital?

Y'see, after nearly 4 years here, it's only recently began to dawn on me how remarkably crazy the culture and etiquette of London really is...remarkable in its unflinching brutality and crazy in its unspoken yet universal understanding!

London is a city of 8 million people all rubbing shoulders with each other throughout their crazy whirlwind days. Or i should say that it's a city full of 8 million strangers desperately avoiding each other's gaze.

 Go on the tube and what do you hear? Not a word - just the faint electric hum of silence. This is the backdrop that keeps us from feeling awkward on our daily commute. There is a strict code of conduct in the capital, and it will be observed! But the question is when did this mantra of isolation and distance become the de facto dictum for how this great city should conduct itself?

When did silence conquer conversation? When did friendly become offensive? When did sorry become the instinctive response?

More to the point, walk anywhere in central London and what do you notice? Besides the absence of conversation, what is unmissable to the point of being tangible? Yup, the attitude(s).

We strut these streets like each turn takes us onto a new catwalk, each more salubrious and serious than the next...focused on ourselves and those watching us...but when did London's ego get so big that we decided we don't have to move for each other? We are the diva celebs in our own imagined play!

And those around us? Pfft. Extras milling about in the background to our big show...

The old are inconvenient in their dawdlings; the sick are weak for getting sick in the first place; tourists are loathed for their slow, wide-eyed-wanderings; and prammed-up parents are cannon fodder for the commuter elite; unless you're a hardened Londoner with a cultured ability to mind your own business and a nose for 'get where you're going', then the chances are you're gonna be just another casualty of war.

And make no mistake, folks - this city is at war. The first city-based civil war of the modern age. East against West, North against South, young against old, the accustomed against the unsure.

But who's who? Who's friendly and who's foe? How do you spot them? Well once you know, you can spot a true(ly trained) Londoner from 10 tube carriages!

A true Londoner smiles for no-one, avoids everyone and blinks at nothing. Nothing phases us. We have learned that reaction is dangerous, danger is a delay, and delays are expensive. And there are only two things we hate more than expense, and they are having a slow internet connection (oo er, missus!) and worse of all, a dying phone battery (yikes!)

We are London. We are prepped. We are driven (literally wherever we want to go). And we are caffeinated. But more importantly, we are getting where we're going. Ay. Ess.,Ay. Fackin'. Pee.

But don't worry - you won't notice us. No no no. We'll be hiding our faces behind our morning copy of the Metro reading about things we already know; or we'll be busy averting our gaze thanks to our Blackberrys and iPhones, because this city is a strictly 'no conversation zone'...

Just a thought...

F**k money.

Two days ago, I came across a delightful piece of writing. Delightful not solely because of the language used, but because of its message. The meaning and mantra it hummed in your ear as you read it. But I digress; I should begin at the beginning.

The author is a friend of a friend - well actually the sister of a very good friend indeed. The writing was a bit of a personal retrospective. A reflection-cum-self-evaluation on life at 30. She compared today's reality with how an earlier her thought it would be 10 years ago. When you're done reading this you should check it out. And think on it. It's fantastic!

In her words, Sam delves into detail looking at how despite the fact she's not where she thought she would be, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because she's happy.

First of all; kudos to Sam. Kudos on having the courage to even contemplate undergoing an honest reflection of adult life.

Secondly; 'thank you' to Sam. Thank you for reminding - or even showing - us the beauty of adaptability and, more importantly, reason. The reason that allows us to reflect on life from an informed perspective. Informed but not biased. This is exactly what Sam did. And I applaud her for it.

She looked past preconceptions of youth and labels of what 'success' should be. She saw her own successes and realised that success is what you want it to be. And what do we all want to be? That's right; happy!

It stands to reason then, that if you're happy - if only for the moment, then you must be successful. And I have to say; it sounds like Sam's in a swell place right now - both geographically and emotionally!

In the words of the great Bob Dylan; "What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do." Amen, brother. Amen.

As for me? I revel in reflection probably too much than is recommended. And i shouldn't really reveal in retrospect too much for fear of reprisal or recriminations. But for every "if only I would have..." over the passed few years, I've made sure there have been an equal amount of "But then I would've missed out on..." moments for me to counter.

As my good buddy Frank so eloquently said; "Regrets? I've had a few...but then again, too few to mention."

Case in point; I still wonder (now more than ever, as it happens) what life would be like and what I'd be doing if I'd followed the great plan of 2008 and moved to Manchester after uni. No doubt I'd have had and would still be having good times galore! But then I would've missed out on all these crazy guys who make London life so liveable and - most of the time - loveable!

And what if I would've stuck it out at Bite instead of going travelling in 2010? I could be on double the money now, renting a swanky flat in Notting Hill and holidaying in the Hamptons! But i didn't. And I did go travelling. And as it goes I've got a million marvellous memories from 2010 with people I wouldn't swap, trade or exchange for anything!

So let's reflect on what I've just said and what you've just read.  What's the point of it? Well, I’m not totally sure there is a point, or for that matter that there needs to be one. But looking back (on these past few minutes), I've realised something. Reflection is healthy. We need to reflect on where we are to understand where we want to go. But does the fact that it's necessary mean it's any easier to look at ourselves in total, naked honesty? No it doesn't. It's still by far and away the bitch of the bunch, and I'm not gonna tell you any different - that would be lying.

But that's how you know it's worth doing. The harder something is - in this case truly honest self-evaluation - the more you stand to grow from it.

So go on - give Sam's reflection a read and then give it a go yourself...

Just a thought...

  

[notes on the image of a successful life]

http://www.shepardsgrove.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/notes-on-image-of-successful-life.html

How many people have you slept with?

Seems like a personal question, yeah? Well it's not (just) me being nosey – and you don't even have to answer (infact I'd recommend you keep it secret!) – it's just one small part of a bigger question; why do we feel the need to quantify everything?

Y'see, I came to the realisation this week that we need to measure and quantify almost every aspect of daily life. We use social networks to measure how popular we are as we count up the 'likes' and comments, retweets and mentions, friends and followers...we measure our professional success on the number of new clothes or shoes or watches we buy every weekend and how much money we spent gives us the only real 'demonstration' of true quality...how much fun we had on a night out is obviously entirely relational to the number of shots we had...and a potentially direct product of shots of course is sex...and yes, even sex is on our list of quantification!! How long sex lasts tells us how good it was and how many people we've had sex with shows how good we must be...and what do you want to do after sex? No, not cuddle! Sleep...and yup, you guessed it – now we’re even measuring sleep! Not just in the number of hours we've snoozed for, but we use things like the sleep cycle app to give us a graph of how well we've slept and we get given a score on our sleep quality...which, although interesting, is also slightly baffling right? Forget whether we feel rested or not, we need to be told we slept well, so if 'sleep cycle' says '49% sleep quality' then cancel breakfast and head back to bed!

And I think about these things.

And they all seem to be symptomatic of a society bewildered by its own insecurities to the point where we feel the need to seek validation for everything...everything!

And I'm guilty as you...like this post – I will judge how good, bad, valuable or interesting this piece of writing (and in turn judge myself as a (wannabe) writer)) based on the number of views it gets, or more so on the number of 'likes' and comments it gets on Facebook...why? I don’t know. Will having 0 likes force me into retiring my digital pen? (unfortunately for you) No. Will having 300 likes propel me into the stratosphere of the writing elite? Hardly. Yet this post will still live and die by the 'like' button. You are Caesar, and I wait expectantly for the 'thumbs up'

Will this change anytime soon? No. If anything, I can see everyday life becoming increasingly numerical, and while I’m not saying this is a good or a bad thing, maybe in the meantime we can start looking into the sentiment behind things over and above the quantity...y'know?

Ah I dunno...maybe this makes sense, maybe it doesn’t…I didn't make any promises...just remember to 'like' it on Facebook, OK??

Just a thought...

Look...MAGIC!

OK, I lied. This isn't magic. But it's something equally as captivating...this is ART!

Or at least this for me captures the spirit of what it means when (professing) to create 'art' and 'artistry'...

'Art' for me means bearing your soul for the world - or at least your audience (who, if for that hour or two or three are your world) - to see...great art comes from great artists, and great artists are those who (dare to) feed off of their emotions and experiences, ergo (that's right - I'm that douche that uses - but sorta gets away with using - words like 'ergo'), art must be inherently 'personal' in origin...so if you are an artist then you believe in your art. So prove it! Speak loud and speak true! Directly to those who have come (and most likely paid) to see you...

It means facing your art head on, one-on-one, mano-a-mano...no studio lights, backing singers or dry ice to hide behind (which - thank Christ - immediately rules out the majority of reality TV 'artists'), and no studio manager or tour organiser to bollock if things hit a snag...just an intimate soiree between you and the world. A good example; when heckled at a reading, Allen Ginsberg calmly placed his book on the floor of the stage, stripped completely naked and with arms raised aloft declared; "The poet stands naked before the world...are you brave enough to stand naked in front of the whole world??"

Y'see, art means putting every inch of yourself into what you're creating...if you're singing, gather and strain every sinew in you to realise your idea...make every word, every note, every breath count! Likewise if you are a film maker; capture every nuance of every kiss and every embrace and every look away and every silence to bring your story to life! And writers; it is on your head to turn every phrase, syllable and space to your will to create or add meaning to this world...

After all, as the saying goes "waste not, want not..." - well don't you think this applies to the arts as well...??

But most of all, the key to art is realising that at the end of the day and all things, all art is, is an idea - anyone can have an idea, so anyone can create art! And if you think you are (or would like to be) an artist, then for Christ's sake BELIEVE in your ideas...realise that you are the only person in history who has seen the world as you do and you are the only one who thinks like you...so really, having an idea is itself a work of art!

Just a thought...