Poster 0.2
It's been a long time coming, but Poster 0.2 is now available.
Labels: poster
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this post
Friday, May 09, 2008
Respected Member of Catholic Church in "Talking Sense" Shocker
Well, almost...
The Archbishop of Westminster has urged Christians to treat atheists and agnostics with "deep esteem".
Believers may be partly responsible for the decline in faith by losing sense of the mystery and treating God as a "fact in the world", he said in a lecture.
Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor called for more understanding and appreciation between believers and non-believers.
A high-up member of the church admitting that points of view diametrically opposed to his own are may also be valid? Blimey! Normally the church spends more time describing atheism as a terrible evil and making comparisons between atheists and Hitler.
He expressed concern about the increasing unpopularity of the Christian voice in public life, saying: "Our life together in Britain cannot be a God-free zone and we must not allow Britain to become a world devoid of religious faith and its powerful contribution to the common good."
Societies ruled only by reason were like those created by Hitler and Stalin, ripe for "terror and oppression", he said.
Oops. Never mind. Not sure I quite agree with the assertion that Hitler's extermination of the Jews was driven by reason. Doesn't seem particularly reasonable to me.
Labels: atheism, news, philosophy, religion
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postWednesday, May 07, 2008
Centaurgy
Ludicrous musical genres from around the world.
If anyone can tell me where I can get some records in the "noise.jesus ?!:D" genre, do let me know. I feel like I'm missing out.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
London
I went there a couple of weeks ago. I'm glad I got to see it before upper-class-twit-of-the-year Boris Johnson, last night elected Mayor, accidentally burns it down.
Of course, any elected official is a representative of his party and none work alone. What BoJo's victory has proven, however, is that the british public are happy to vote for personalities rather than policies.
If the BNP wish to get into power and put their repellant racist plans into practice, they need only run, say, The Crazy Frog as PM, and voter turnout would be the highest in years.
Labels: politics
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postFriday, May 02, 2008
Shoes of Evil
I went shoe shopping last night. I hate clothes shopping in all its forms, and shoe shopping especially. Shoe shops are especially grim and unpleasant places for me. Overbright, over loud and staffed by unhelpful aliens, it's all I can do to get in and out as quickly as possible with the minimum of damage to dignity and wallet, and with a pair that will keep my feet dry for another six months before they fall apart. I usually only have about three pairs of shoes: one formal pair for weddings, funerals, job interviews, etc; one pair of good walking boots; and a regular casual pair that I wear 99% of the time. The latter were on their last legs (as it were), and so it was necessary for me to brave a local branch of Schuh. Pretty much every pair in their men's section was either hideous to look at, hideously expensive, or both. I suppose I could have shopped around (other listings magazines are available) but that would just have prolonged the experience, so I settled for a relatively un-hideous and fairly reasonable pair of plain-black Converse all-star wotsits. I was feeling pretty good about achieving my mission without spending too much cash, until at home R reminded me that Converse are owned by Nike nowadays and are therefore teh evilz. Not that my wardrobe, such as it is, can be said to be otherwise sweatshop-free, but I can't honestly claim ignorance in this case. Just panic.
She also pointed out that they'll probably last me about ten minutes before exploding, and are therefore something of a false economy. They are fucking comfy, though.
Labels: diary
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postThursday, May 01, 2008
Floated
When we're in the West End. we often pass by Willow Trading on Great Western Road. I'm not really a fan of that kind of shop. They're often pushers of expensive placebo, snake-oil and new-age bullshit, a perception that was cemented the time they tried to sell R a session on a Vega Machine. But a couple of months ago I was struggling to think of an unusual present for her birthday and remembered that they had a flotation tank. She had expressed some interest in trying it, and a bit of research on the web suggested that they genuinely helped relieve stress, and were especially theraputic for pregnant women who may be experiencing back problems, so I popped in and bought her a gift certificate, good for a single "float".
It took her a while to get around to using it, but when she finally did last week she came back absolutely raving about the experience, and had returned the favour by buying me one as well. I know I come across as a miserable old cynic, but I prefer to think of myself as just being quick to spot a scam, and I can understand that there might be some benefit to being alone with just your thooughts and no other outside stimulation for a while. Given that R came back clearly more relaxed, I was keen to give it a go, so after work last night I went over there and redeemed my coupon for one float.
I was shown into a pleasant, private room with various toiletries, a shower, and a hatch set into one wall. As explained, I locked the door behind me, stripped off, took a quick shower and inserted the provided earplugs, before opening the hatch. Although if you Google "flotation tank" or "isolation tank" you'll most likely find images of a free-standing pod, this was more like a small room the size of a walk-in closet, filled with about ten inches of water heated to body temperature and loaded with Epsom salts. Climbing in and lying on my back, I found sinking, or even touching my bum to the floor, quite impossible, the salt in the water providing enough buoyancy to keep me floating gently on the surface at all times. Closing the hatch left only a thin outline of the door from the light in the room, which soon turned itself off leaving me in complete darkness, unable to tell if my eyes were open or shut, and with no sound but my own breathing and the odd watery gurgle.
Physically it was very pleasant and comfortable, though I could see how someone of a claustrophobic bent might feel a little panicked at first until they settled in. In keeping with the spirit of it, I tried to relax as much as possible, which took some time. Every time I thought I was as relaxed as I could be, I would notice some other muscle group that was still tensed in some way and would have to turn it off. Finally I achieved this as best as I could and started to enjoy the feeling of warm weightlessness. Relaxing my mind was a whole different matter. The leaflet I had read upon arrival suggested that the floatee shouldn't try to suppress his or her thoughts, but just let them come and go. All the same, I found it difficult to get out of my natural cycle whereby I'm usually fretting about something, and worries about whether I was getting enough out of the experience and how much time I had left and whether I was "doing it right" just self-perpetuated. Eventually, however, some of the negative "brain chatter" went away and I got into a state similar to that which occurs before sleep - though I was in no danger of actually nodding off and could appreciate it in a more "conscious" way. Scraps of voices floated through my head, as well as thoughts about my life as it is at the moment, but most noticable was the music that seems to be endlessly playing in the background of my mind. It didn't seem to be anything I had heard before, but wasn't consciously being created. It was enjoyable to "listen to" for a while, but difficult to actually silence. I've "dreamt" music in the past and never been able to recreate it in the "real world" due to an inability to recall it (not to mention lack of talent). I suspect that what I heard while in the tank is no exception, but it's interesting that it's in there.
I was brought out of this meditative state by ambient tinkling which are played into the tank to announce the end of the session, and was quite surprised to find that an hour had passed. Once out of the tank, and feeling a little wobbly, I showered thoroughly to get the salt off my skin, dressed, and left. Once back in the outside world I actually felt a sort of giddy euphoria, and had to fight to stop myself from giggling at nothing. At the same time I felt extremely relaxed, and my head felt clearer and more focussed, an effect that has continued, if slightly diminished, today.
I suppose what I experienced was really just a form of meditation, made easier by the tank removing all external stimuli and makiing that level of introspection easier. Really you could just go to some classes and learn to do meditate at home without having to fork out thirty notes to float in a cupboard full of salty water, but in any case it was an enjoyable experience and something I'd be happy to try again.
Or maybe I've just been suckered in by a lot of hippy-drippy nonsense. If I start blogging about the benefits of aromatherapy, you have permission to come round and slap me.
Labels: diary
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this post