Catmachine

"rectify times 3.12.83 reporting bb dayorder doubleplusungood refs unpersons rewrite fullwise upsub antefiling" George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four I always found Winston Smith 's work at the Ministry of Truth one of the most fascinating parts of Orwell 's Nineteen Eighty Four (since before I worked in an office so it's not just empathy). I first read the novel at the age of thirteen; and despite what my parents might have thought, I did indeed read the whole thing in a few days, including The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism . Since its publication the book has always been a byword for the dangers of totalitarianism, and even back when I first read it many adults were doom-saying about how it was All Coming True. On closer questioning however it turned out that all they were really bothered about was the introduction of the metric system and the 24 hour clock. Never mind a boot stamping on a human face forever; the worst thing in the world was...

1985. So, no more Doctor Who, at least for the time being. What was I going to do? To be honest, it couldn't have come at a better time for me. I was about to finish my second year at university and so would probably benefit from being able to concentrate on my coursework in the third year without obsessing about some old TV show. However, instead of knuckling down to my studies I started obsessing about sex and drugs and rock'n'roll instead. On the final day of my second year I lost my virginity; thinking about it in the context of this memoir I wonder if the universe was trying to tell me something? Was I being advised to put aside childish things in exchange for this new world of sensual experience? Probably not. Like all human beings I am seeing patterns in things that aren't there. For good or for bad I spent the hiatus year enjoying myself, and thanks to a conveniently timed bout of glandular fever, didn't even have to sit my final examinations. I ent...

It's very rare that I read a non-fiction book and agree with virtually everything therein. Even popular science books (of the more philosophical type that I read - I'm not for a moment suggesting that I would take issue with the theory of acids and bases) sometimes express opinions or hypotheses that I'm not 100% convinced by. The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins is different. Reading through it I couldn't find a single fact or well reasoned argument I disagreed with. That's not to say I think it's a fantastic book - it has many flaws, but thinking about them I have come to the conclusion that a lot of them are unavoidable and come about as a direct result of having to deal with the subject matter. Firstly, the tone can come across at times as rather shrill and overemotional rather than measured and calm. But have you ever accidentally got embroiled in a so called discussion with fundamentalist godbotherers? There are only so many times you can coolheadedly s...

Kernel Panic Tomorrow morning is when I go into hospital to have a general anaesthetic for the very first time. It's an interesting concept. Looking at the operation of the brain as analogous to that of a computer it's more like a hard reboot, actually being switched off and on again as opposed to mere sleep which is more comparable to being in stand-by or, well, sleep mode. Will I feel any different afterwards? I'm hoping that such a restart will clear out any unwanted program loops, neuroses that have been running unchecked ever since a random combination of circumstances and input set them off. Mentally I should feel better, that is once I've stopped feeling nausea. And, most interestingly, what will happen to my consciousness? I have heard that by all accounts it's as if no time has passed; as the inhabitants of the Dollhouse say " Did I fall asleep? " This makes sense from a materialistic point of view. No new data is entered or data sorting takes...

"If a person who indulges in gluttony is a glutton, and a person who commits a felony is a felon, then God is an iron." Spider Robinson Everything we like is bad for us. Well, that's not strictly true. I am sure that watching, say, the reimagined series of Battlestar Galactica hasn't done me any harm no matter how much I might have frakkin' enjoyed it. No, I'm, talking more about physical rather than intellectual pleasure. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, and it's not the thrill that some weirdos get from a session down at the gym. I'm talking about eating whatever we like to eat, drinking as much as we want, and in some cases introducing pharmaceutical products into our bloodstreams in order to alter our mood or behaviour. These are all things that can give us enormous pleasure and yet seem to be ultimately very bad for us. It's not that hard to work out where this annoying state of affairs comes from at least with respect to t...

Now that I'm only writing weekly, I think by definition these entries are going to be a little metatextual at first, talking about what I've done and how things are going. Whilst this is in no way a bad thing - after all that's probably a description of a large proportion of the blogosphere - I hope I can get back to picking reality apart in short order. In general I think I can report that this past week's experiment with the diversion of my creative juices has been a moderate success. On what would have been the designated blogging days I did manage to write short sections of my novel, perhaps comparable in length to the unwritten blog entries from those days. It's still not enough. Even though I've now managed to drag my protagonists Genie and Wendi from the night club to the beach and finally to the hotel, it's been one of those hard going passages, a sequence in which I already know the destination so there are fewer surprises in store than normal and...

"I'm just a face in the crowd / Nothing to worry about Not even trying to stand out I'm getting smaller and smaller and smaller And I got nothing to say / It's all been taken away I just behave and obey I'm afraid I am starting to fade away" Nine Inch Nails, Getting Smaller I don't know what Trent Reznor thinks he has to worry about - he's the same age as me and yet made his mark years ago and chalked up an achievement that many of us would like to, that of credible songwriter rockstar. But I know what he's on about though. Given that it's been written by someone who doesn't know what it's like, the above quote is an uncannily accurate reflection of the thought processes of someone who's reached my age without achieving anything worthwhile. It's easy when you're young of course. You can entertain all sorts of notions about how you're going to be a rock star, a writer, a DJ, and it all seems quite achievable. The only p...

I'm in two minds. Or rather sometimes it seems as if two minds are in me. I can't really work out whether I'm a miserable curmudgeon complaining about the current state of the world and how things were so much better back in the old days, or an immature man-child who refuses to grow up. This means that sometimes I react to things in an unpredictable manner and seem to be capable of holding two contradictory opinions in my head at the same time. It's a kind of doublethink but it's not at if I don't notice the contradiction. I do, but I decide not to let it bother me. For instance, whilst I may bang on about how selfish people are trying to monopolise more than one seat on public transport , I am equally as capable of complaining when someone sits next to me on aforementioned public transport. I don't know if this means that I'm capable of seeing both sides of an argument or am just monumentally selfish. However, I do try not to be selfish in my dealing...

"People want to believe a simple version, a radically simplified, actually imbecilic version of complex and largely incomprehensible reality." William Gibson We probably all know somebody who revels in conspiracy theories. Someone who isn't happy unless they're deconstructing a largely well documented and relatively recent historical event and blaming it all on Them . The identity of Them does vary, but most of the time it is drawn to the strange attractor of the US Government or perhaps a shadowy cabal of super-rich multinational-owning American neo-cons . For some reason They have a lot of time on their hands and spend most of it trying to confuse the issue on a global scale. But despite their near limitless resources and frightening ruthlessness, they always seem to get caught out by a weirdo living in his mum's basement (let's face it, they're usually male). A weirdo who, despite the fact that he nearly has a panic attack when he tries to talk to t...

After the dramatic spectacle of the Fifth Doctor's exit , the Sixth Doctor really had something to live up to. And this time we weren't going to have to wait a whole year to see what he was like. For the first time (in a never to be repeated experiment) the regeneration had taken place before the end of the season. This was a move as bold as the transmission times being shifted to mid week. I couldn't wait, and what's more wouldn't have to. I must admit I was dubious about the casting. Actor Colin Baker had already appeared not long before as Time Lord guard Maxil, who had attempted to execute the incumbent Fifth Doctor. Would they attempt an in-story explanation for the remarkable similarity? Furthermore I was already familiar with him from his appearance in Blake's Seven as Bayban the Butcher. Did this mean that the Sixth Doctor was going to be played as a violent maniac in leather and studs? They passed on the leather and studs, but kept the violent ma...

Wanting to look a bit different wasn't just because of the girls . Once I'd sidled into this subculture I found that there was a lot more in there that was to my liking. There was a certain point of view, an attitude , that I found myself in alignment with. I'm not saying I wanted to Smash the State, far from it (if we descended into anarchy I was hardly going to be assured a regular supply of SF novels and Toyah LPs), but more that I found the different way of looking at things appealing. And the music of course. Yes, we did think we were different, but I wasn't so obtuse as not to realise that the subcultural vogue was a uniform in itself and that I was not so much refusing to conform as choosing to conform to a different (albeit more minority) mode. A common criticism often leveled at me and my siblings in style, especially by lapsed members of the congregation interestingly, was that we " thought we were something special and better than everyone else ". ...

You might not think it to look at me now given that I'm a bit of a slob, but once upon a time I was quite spiky and interesting looking. Well I thought I looked interesting, but then I would say that, wouldn't I? The punky alternative gothy style has always been to my taste. Why is this? I can sort of answer that, although the answer itself only raises a further question. Like many things that happen to teenage boys, it all comes down to girls. Of course. At school it seemed as though the majority of my peers waxed lyrical over the physical charms of Olivia Newton John, Farrah Fawcett and the like, not to mention the airbrushed women in the creased glossy magazines they used to sneak into class. I could never really see the attraction. They all seemed so bloody wholesome . Except for the ones in the magazines who seemed plastic and soggy. Due to my lack of enthusiasm for the traditional teenage boys' fantasies, I was often branded a "bender" or a "mo"...

"It's certainly a phenomenon in all walks of life. "What do you mean?" "Well, at one time, you've got it, and then you lose it, and it's gone forever. All walks of life: George Best, for example. Had it, lost it. Or David Bowie, or Lou Reed." "Lou Reed, some of his solo stuff's not bad." "No, it's not bad, but it's not great either. And in your heart you kind of know that although it sounds all right, it's actually just shite." Sick Boy & Renton, Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh Odd that people tend to sneer at the new and different. It's been my observation that the creative mind can be at its most interesting when first it releases its brainchild upon the scene. Perhaps people have an inbuilt conditioning to be wary of the brand new? In Thugg's World, for instance, what's brand new might conceivably kill you. People also dismiss the new and the popular because of the hype. In an attempt to appear mo...

On Friday I went through a graduation ceremony for the first time. It was just for my creative writing certificate, but I figured that seeing as back in the day (when I first graduated) I was so full of anti-establishment attitude that I didn't bother attending, I might as well go along and enjoy it this time round. And I got to wear the silly gear. Expensive enough to hire from Ede and Ravenscroft, but worth doing (so I told myself) just the once. Being "gowned" was an odd experience. They're just clothes after all - if anything all you should feel is a slight sense of discomfort and embarrassment. I didn't feel either of those but was disconcerted to feel a change in demeanor sneaking over me. I started to feel pompous, arrogant and self important. Why would a change of clothes make me feel this way? Luckily my "real" self was still overseeing everything and found this funny. I was able to laugh at the idea of me shouting " You! Boy! " or fl...

"Analogies prove nothing, that is quite true, but they can make one feel more at home." Freud How can you ever really know what someone else is feeling? Claiming empathy is all very well, but how can you know that what they call "sad" is the same as what you call "sad"? At first glance this might seem to be the same problem discussed in the last entry , in which I concluded that qualia , the basic thingness of stuff, didn't actually exist, our experience of, say, red being linked to the wavelength of light hitting our retinas, our brains' processing of that data and any associations we have linked to it. There is no ur- red of which our experience of the skin of a tomato is but a pale reflection. The reality of emotions may be a different facet of the same problem, albeit one with a different conclusion. It's much more difficult to put your finger on an emotion. Whilst Patient A can say to Patient B "That's red" and point at a...

There is an old philosophical chestnut about seeing the colour red. How do we know that what I see as red is what you see as red? We may both call it red, and may be referring to the colour of tomatoes, blood and pillar boxes, but how do I know that what you call red isn't what I call green? This is a simplified version of John Locke's Inverted Spectrum (I'm talking about the philosopher rather than the erstwhile passenger of Oceanic 815), a thought experiment in which we wake up one morning and find that all the colours in our sensorium have inexplicably reversed. Aside from providing the inspiration for a potentially interesting blues number (" Woke up this mornin'... Everythin' red had gone green / Yeah I woke up this mornin'... Everythin' green had gone red / Had green strawberry jam on toast for breakfast... Think someone's messing with my head... ") there's no real reason why this should occur other than to introduce the rea...

There are some things I just can't get my head around. One of them is talking about myself in the third person. Oh sure, I can do it if I have to (although I am at a loss to think of a situation in which I might "have to") but it makes me very uncomfortable and just feels wrong . I have no idea why this might be - some error of the wiring in my brain or bad learning? It certainly doesn't seem to bother some people. If anything they seem to rather enjoy it. I can see how it might be useful as a way of dis-identifying with the past in order to learn from ones mistakes, but I'd find it uncomfortable doing even that. As for the "Old John's really looking forward to supper" said John syndrome... I just can't fathom it . I would be an interesting subject for study, to see what kind of people do this a lot and what proportion of the population is happy (or at least not uncomfortable) doing so. I'd hate to think it was just me. However, there is a...

One day I hope to be asked " Where do you get your ideas from? " as it will mean that I have written a work of fiction that has impressed someone and is original enough for them to wonder how I managed to think it up. At the moment the only person likely to ask me that is myself and unfortunately I don't yet have an answer. Any regular readers may recall that I previously wrote about different types of writers, the architects and archaelogists , and identified myself as a member of the latter camp. I discover the story as I go along; in many ways I don't "get" the ideas from anywhere, the ideas come to me. As I mentioned before it can be difficult to write short stories as an archaeologist; it can be even more difficult to write a synopsis. This is a problem, because I need to write a synopsis, a summary for a piece of short fiction I am planning to write. At the moment it's not important what this actually is, suffice to say there's a deadline an...