Andrew Reid: Curb Your Enthusiasm

This is my final blog about affairs of the heart.

I have realised that Morrissey wrote a lot on the same subject and everybody hates him and he’s never had a girlfriend. So I am choosing to stop the blabbering now while I have the chance.

But not without one last flourish of pain from the deepest trenches of my battered heart. First consider these optimistic lyrics:

Time is like a dream
And now, for a time, you are mine
Let’s hold fast to the dream
That tastes and sparkles like wine

Who knows (who knows)
If it’s real
Or just something we’re both dreaming of
What seems like an interlude now
Could be the beginning of love

But it wasn’t. I have been living in a naive little bubble. Well I had a good think today and decided to put a stop to all this nonsense. It’s a preemptive strike on what I felt was inevitable - hurt. And while my soul gives up the carcass of meat and walks away, I turn around and see the other hungry creatures nor and muzzle the remaining flesh, it hurts even more. I’ve had it before…and as Morrissey would sneer: “I’ve had my face dragged in 15 miles of shit, and I do not, I do not….and I do not like it.”

For as long as there is unrequited ’attraction’ there will be enough fuel to give Morrissey all the ammunition he needs to write his next masterpiece. And people will hate him even more for it. But the thing is - Morrissey is a loving, caring, talented and handsome chap despite his advancing years. It’s just that his personality is so demanding and fussy, and that he writes so much about weakness and hurt, that he remains in a state of enforced celibacy and pain as a result. He has a big soul and the bigger soul you have the more love you need to feed it.

I have decided I’m not going to go this way, I am not going to let how others feel about me affect me. No longer. From now on there is really only one option. To become a little less caring, and little less loving. My soul is going on a diet.

Yes, world, you have finally had your way on me…I am naive and innocent no longer. I am now a complete bastard.

If the heart is indeed an irrational being, then my soul has just been restrained in the cockpit, brought kicking and screaming out onto the deck and he wants to “speak to God”. But there is no God and he’s going straight to the mental asylum. Thus my soul - my idiotic soul - has now been replaced with logic, calm, thought, friendship.

To the dream that never was - adiós.

It has been said the characters Heath Ledger played returned to play a roll in his death. He hadn’t slept properly for years. He played “The Joker” in the latest Batman film. This character really got to him. His demons were not alcohol or drugs, his characters killed him off to relieve the pain.

In many ways Heath Ledger was living his dreams, however when he went to sleep he had no dreams left to live. He couldn’t let go. Although he was quiet and introspective he had no inner peace. Although he was an Australian he sure enough had English genes because in the words of a certain Pink Floyd song:

“Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way”

This month some exciting things have happened. Some people I got to like more and more. Some dreams I liked so much they began to consume me. And now I’ve woken up I find myself hanging onto my dreams in desperation, fighting the tide of reality - but not in a gung-ho way - but quietly, mulling it all over inside my mind. And suddenly, I wake up in the cold night of day and hit the detonate button on each and every dream I am quietly hanging onto. I’ve realised I don’t have control. No matter what course of action I take - even none at all - reality and nature always win.

King Canute sat in defiance of the rising tide to prove to his sniping courtiers that even a monarch was, in fact, powerless to turn back the sea. Bob Dylan knew that fate controls and contorts you until it has you right where it wants you to be. Heath Ledger probably thought he was in control when he took sleeping pills to try and kill of his characters in order to get some dreamless sleep. Well the irony is he’s now asleep forever in eternal peace.

So no matter what, we’re all going to be out of control at some point in your life and the best thing that humans can do is to at least make our chaotic existence as interesting as possible.

Heath Ledger played Bob Dylan in the recent film inspired by his life - I’m Not There. What struck me most about this film was that although it was a confusing mess in many ways, each scene had the same ’spirit’. Here was the spirit of Bob Dylan - out of control but making poetic music and ‘order’ out of life. He was swept up in the currents of an ocean. All the currents ended up on the beach of fate. He had no control. Be it in Richard Gere’s character who rode on horse back through the latter half of the 19th century, long before Bob Dylan was born, or in the young black kid’s character based on a young and free Bob Dylan - going wherever the train waggon took him. He didn’t have control but he did have lyrics.

It’s a kind of spirit I’m warming too, especially when things don’t always go the way you want them to, and you can’t control it. Instead let it fuel your creativity and hopefully you’ll make something beautiful and ordered out of all the chaos that life bestows upon you.

Manchester is a city with a lot of character. Many historical buildings. Many places of cultural importance. Affleck’s Palace in the Northern Quarter has been around for longer than nearly anyone can remember. It’s an imaginative and creative place which many hold affection in their hearts for.

Imagination. Creativity. What can possibly stand in it’s way. Oh yes - how can I forget. Money.

A corporation. You know the type. A big business that puts an extra percentage point on their profits before the good of humanity. Corporate responsibility? To big business that’s just a marketing buzz word to put an extra cocktail on their hotel tab.

First off all lets make no bones about it. Affleck’s Palace in the year 2008 is a bloody mess. Half the market shops are empty spaces, void of activity or merchandise. Only very few of the other shops are all that interesting and the place seems to attract a very young crowd who only go to look hip and cool - they’re unwilling to spend very much. As a business it is completely shit.

But as a dream, as a potential landmark known the world over, as a building, as a brand: Affleck’s Palace is about as big as they come. It’s unique. It’s Manchester and it’s at the heart and soul of the most interesting and creative part of the city. I don’t want to see it disappear into a haze of shiny metal and glass just so some people with fancy haircuts can show off in their swanky apartments. There is enough of that in Manchester already. As a separate story - that’s all needed, and it’s all the more impressive for a city which was on it’s knees after the war, but there are some things which are sacred and special, some things which would be better suited to something ‘a bit different’. Affleck’s is one of these.

So Bruntwood has this special opportunity in it’s hands, a very special building indeed. They also already own nearly a billion pounds worth of property around Manchester. To them, Affleck’s Palace could be turned into a little money spinner - flats perhaps, or sold to a hotel company for £10 million. A few little extra percentage points on their profits perhaps. A few extra Christmas bonus payments for the fat bastard who runs the company. Maybe a refurbishment of their glass and metal offices or a fleet of lovely Mercedes for their property managers.

OR…Bruntwood could create something special. It’d be challenging. It’d take a while. It’d need a lot of talent and a lot of money.

Sadly Bruntwood prefer the extra fleet of Mercedes.

Today a meeting is taking place between the various parties involved and Manchester City Council. The council do a very good job for the city on the whole - balancing the need to accommodate investment and big business while protecting the historic cultural values and living standards of Mancunians. But I don’t hold even a single candle of hope to the fact that a corporation such as Bruntwood might be persuaded by the city council to give something back to the city from which it has extracted nearly a billion pounds worth of property.

And yet another piece of Manchester’s soul is lost to the quagmire of faceless bean-counters who care not where they live, or what they do or who they disadvantage in the process even if it’s a whole way of life or whole cultures. Most of Bruntwood’s management and decision makers are probably not even from Manchester and care not one dollar for the city, other than caring about the next cunning strategy to extract even more millions from a place which used to have a soul.

I don’t care about the deluded ‘I wanna be cool’ teens who frequent Affleck’s Palace just to think they’re worthwhile additions to the human race. I care about creativity, about imaginations, about dreams.

And until corporations begin caring about the same things that I do: I will continue to hate them with every ounce of my being.

Andy is moving out of the flat next month. It’s a mutual decision and a harmonious one. We both agree on one thing, it’s exciting to follow your own path. I am sure if we continued to live together our friendship would suffer. As it is, we can follow where our hearts takes us more easily.

Changes lead you to your future and dammit I am excited about the future. I am beginning to realise that there is a place in the sun for everyone - you just have to reach out and take it.

When I was living first with Annabel and then with the Spanish girl Paloma, followed by Wenny and Mia it was certainly exciting - I felt like they complimented me and interested me with new things I never knew about before. I was on a journey, gazing at all the exciting scenes unfolding before me.

Andy is sensible enough to realise we have our differences and that the friendship is not always complimentary as we overlap too much in certain aspects. For example we both work from home - it’s an unhealthy amount of time to spend together with anyone. That that someone is a close friend and top bloke like Andy puts a lot of strain on a valuable friendship.

Andy inherited a deal from Wenny - I shouldn’t have agreed to it but I did. Living in the city centre isn’t cheap…when Wenny was sharing her room with Mia also paying rent I was in dream-land money wise but with Mia gone the deal is nonsense. I’m facing up to my mistake with a healthy dose of reality…electricity bills and council tax are items to share equally.

Not a lot of dust has been kicked up by our decision, and I think that’s pretty mature and cool. Everything seems settled virtually as quickly as it began. The only task I’m not looking forward to is filtering through all the new candidates for a new flat mate. It’s difficult to judge someones character in 5 minutes especially when you’re showing them bathrooms and kitchen cupboards.

When the process starts it’s great fun. But then indecision and over analysis takes over - sometimes you’re better with the devil you know, or at least this is what your mind tells you. Your mind is wrong! For a start strangers are never as unsuitable as you think they are. Most of them are nice people, some are even interesting.

I am looking forward to taking the risk again and seeing where things go. Even if it’s a mistake I know it’ll be a positive - you don’t learn from never making mistakes or never falling out with people.

Increasingly I know who I get on with best and the kind of people I don’t get on with. It will be easier this time to choose a flat mate.

Andy and I - we’ve had a lot of fun. Now it’s time to move on. We are on the same wavelength over all this and agree on the same plan of action. I have no doubt the friendship will go from strength to strength.

Cheers to the future.

“Morrissey, Morrissey, Morrissey” went the chant on Monday night. The great man himself called it ‘beautiful’. But he was being sarcastic because the chant was done in a footballish manner and Morrissey does not take kindly to football.

Football is not the only subject Morrissey reserves his wrath for. Many subjects are a faux pas if brought up in Morrissey’s presence. 

According to a roadie, he was recently sent home from a tour of LA for ‘liking Elton John’.

Well dear Morrissey I have to echo a mutual feeling, when you sang to me that night in London a few days ago the following -

#Nothings changed, I still love you…only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love#

Morrissey has issues. Some of his views often make perfect sense, and he makes those kind of views known quite often. Some of his beliefs are admirable, like his love for animals, respect for history and his patriotism. But really Morrissey, you are not an easy person to love. And I’m not just talking about the fact his solo music misses the sublime genius of Johnny Marr.

You need to give people more of a chance. Also, when you had all those girlfriends in the early 80’s who rejected you - you now need to get over it. Yes life has many disappointments along the way, and they keep on coming and coming and coming - but you reach a point where moaning about it actually makes it worse. And there is no reason to go celibate.

When the roof was nicked off your beloved Salford Lads Club last year you kindly donated £20,000 but it was not without an incredible amount of moaning. Yes, you can be such a kind human being - but also such a cold and defensive monster.

You remind me of a man I saw wondering the streets of Manchester last week. As I stopped at the edge of the pavement preparing to cross a busy road a hunch back appeared behind me, salivating and grunting while sporting a huge grin on his face. If that wasn’t contradictory enough (if I was such a character I certainly wouldn’t be smiling about it) I later spotted the same bloke sat bolt upright in a restaurant having lunch with a businessman and fluently discussing the risks of speculative investments.

Yes, this was the man with the same haircut and the same coat and eyes - yes he still sported a somewhat ungainly appearance, but as he sat there like Rain Man with what I suspect was his brother, all the strange behaviour of my previous encounter was quickly forgotten. Maybe I had misjudged the man?

And so it is with Morrissey, when I listen to The Smiths all the strange behaviour makes perfect sense and Morrissey appears again in a flash of light, to remind us what a genuinely kind and romantic soul he is - honestly. Maybe he comes across better and more true to himself when he’s with his mates.

However on Monday evening he had dressed his entire band in full denim trouser suits. If this isn’t a cruel and demeaning gesture I don’t know what is. Also, telling the audience to shut up may have raised a ripple of laughter but it was quickly followed by a collective silent sign of…”he’s like that…and he can’t help it”

Morrissey, you need counseling. Dragging members of the crowd who dared to crowd surf onto the stage and injuring them on purpose just gives the myth that “you should never meet your heroes” even more credence. It need not be like this.

I enjoyed it when you mentioned Manchester but I was not sure how to take it. You changed the lyrics of The Smiths song Stretch Out and Wait from “two icy cold hands conducting the way, it’s the Eskimo blood in my veins” to “two icy cold hands conducting the way, it’s the Manchester blood in my veins”. The crowd opted for a mixed response, the Mancunians deciding to cheer loudly and the Londoners chose to look up from their Blackberries and sneer to each other snidely about cotton mills and factories.

He has issues…he’s a bit of a special case.

But I love him.

im fine thanx…u? i mite not be goin cos me n dolly mite be goin to manc for a nite out. i kno u’ll av a gud 1 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

eyup…u alrite?

No I’m fucking not - I am sick of the most beautiful language in the world mutating into drivel because people can’t be bothered to learn how to use a keyboard. At this rate the next generation will also be speaking aloud in text speak…imagine how they’d sound - like idiots probably.

Why does it matter…I suppose it looks cool and lets retarded people type fast? Well for a start it doesn’t look cool, it makes you look like you belong to a sub-human species from planet Chav. English is a lovely language, and romantic too. Most of the greatest music has English lyrics for a reason - English moves people with it’s sheer beauty. Why change it into something resembling computer code?

I suppose the kids think they’re being really rebellious and cool, fitting in with their mates really nicely because they can miss a few letters out of messages. Well have I got news for you - not only can you not be arsed to call them, are you now seriously saying you can’t be arsed to write a message with proper words? At this rate our social relations are going to end up fcked.

Then there are those special people - you know who you are, who write kisses at the end of every single fucking communication God has enabled them with.

I am in the bar xxxx

Did you take that DVD back? xxx

You owe me money. xxxx

I just murdered your cat. xxxxxxxx

Why? WHY???? Have we finally got to the point where we have so few meaningful physical interactions with people that we have to blow virtual kisses at them via the O2 network? Does it make you feel all warm in side getting a few x’s at the end of your text or Facebook message? Maybe - if it’s from someone nice, but all the time, on every single message? It begins to get a bit puzzling and you wonder if they’re still sane.

A language can make you feel part of a certain movement or scene…I am not sure what scene txt speak belongs to but I’m sure as hell sick of trying to stumble through gibberish to get even the faintest gist of what people mean.

It’s going to evolve so far at this rate they’ll have to start teaching it at school, and the day that happens will finally be the day I stop believing in a God.

I like smileys though.

It brings me back to ancient china where they spoke with pictures. For example:

:>
Emu

;>
Winking emu

:0
Surprised man

&:->
Lion

:0…
Bleeding surprised man

:”-
 ”
Shifty household cat

*     |
*   
Bored man

Well I guess that’s my rant for today over. For all those that use text speak constantly - I just needed to get this off my chest, and to remind you all if you ever decide to speak with proper words I might jst txt u bck.

 
(Above - chief Intel cretin shows off his ‘Classmate’)

Life is full of little compromises. Deciding where to go on a group night out, sharing the kitchen cupboards with your flat mate, parking a bit further out from the entrance at the Trafford Centre, death.

However when it comes to large corporations and African school children they don’t seem to know the meaning of the word ‘compromise’. This is because large corporations are psychopaths.

I’ve been following the progress of a charity selling ingenious non-profit $100 laptops to Africa in an effort to boost the education of an entire generation across a whole nation. Meanwhile computer chip giant Intel wanted a slice of the cake. So far so OK - they made their own and sold it at a loss. But while the charity just wants to educate the kids - the corporation wants to eventually fleece them by the back door. The charity was selfless, the corporation had a ‘ploy’.

Intel’s strategy to shut down and overpower the charity in the ‘market’ place was actually quite ingenious in the same way that an evil dictator could sometimes be ‘a bit cunning’. First they threatened to set up a rival laptop - The Intel Classmate - and sell it to the same people as the charity was targeting. Because the charity was using parts from Intel’s biggest rival, AMD, Intel then thought “if we can’t beat em with our shoddy laptop…let’s join em” , and sat a fat cat on the board of the charity while promising $6 million in funding if they used Intel chips in their design. Meanwhile they decided to develop The Intel Classmate anyway and sell it at a loss. Oooh - sneeky. Then huge rival AMD got a bit upset about Intel’s ‘involvement’ in the charity’s board, destabilising the charity further. All part of the plan you see. And while the charity met with authorities around Africa and the developing world, Intel met with the same people days later persuading them to buy The Intel Classmate instead. And they did it again, and again, and again - stealing the business away. Mission accomplished, eventually - well, yesterday in fact - the board member was kicked out of the charity and the promised $6 million went with him. Charity shafted over. Intel in pole position to dominate the ‘market’.

It’s a brilliant plan - if only it wasn’t so fucking diabolical.

People are not ‘markets’. The problem with most if not all large corporations is that they only have responsibility to their shareholders and stock market value - they would be considered irresponsible and stupid to miss out on a big deal - they have to pursue it otherwise the shareholders wonder what on earth they’re investing in. Morals fly out of the window. Politics and gesturing rule the day. Money talks. People become ‘markets’.

The charity meanwhile just wants to provide laptops to kids, as many as possible, and once their mission is done they’ll walk away. The education of kids isn’t something you mess about with. It’s not something to profit from - not in a country like Africa today by any means. Get the job done, then get out.

But Intel will stay, and they will take away.

They’ll get a foothold in the ‘market’. It’s not a bloody market - its the future of a nation at stake. They’ll profit from Africa and they won’t put the investment back in. They’ll build another $2.5 billion factory in China and pollute rivers so all the fish die. And the laptop itself - will it be open to budding young programmers, will they open it up, modify it and be able to call it their own? No it’ll have PROPERTY OF INTEL ALL RIGHTS RESERVED stamped all over it. And at this rate so will the kids.

Is it a coincidence that the publicity shots for the Intel Classmate shows African school children using it while dressed in blue - Intel’s corporate colour?

This humble laptop project is not just about giving African kids Internet access and assisting their general education. The charity’s laptop is an open system - allowing children to learn how the software works and to make their own software easily. Every bit of the operating system is open for them to view, and learn how to change - unlike with the Intel Classmate Psychopath 2000.

Corporations go around brain washing us - taking advantage of our human nature and associating lifestyle not with people but with objects. “You must have this, you must have that. You must wear blue. Otherwise you’ll be miserable and sad, and spend the rest of your life in a cave”.

I look around me and I enjoy a great deal of products by major corporations. I couldn’t do without my Canon camera…my Apple iPhone…my Intel laptop. But I sure wish that in return for spending my money, the company would get a fucking set of morals.

Intel have done everything they can to abuse the good work and ingenious technology of this charity. I for one hope people sit up and take notice.

I few thoughts are running amok in my mind. The first one is named ‘Billy’.

Billy lives in 2008 and uses text messages and Facebook messages to keep in touch with his friends and family. However Billy stayed in on New Years Eve because he didn’t need to meet his mates in person - he’d already texted them.

The second thought is named ‘Valerie’.

Valerie lives in 1947 where everyone is sociable, they go around the street hanging out with their neighbours.

The third thought is named ‘Rose’ and she lives in 2008 along with Billy. She always moans that things were so much better in 1947.

No they weren’t. Previously I would have sided with Rose because Billy truly is an idiot. Billy remains an idiot but Rose is seriously deluded. Why? Because of the 4th thought now running amok in my brain - let’s call him ‘Darwin’.

Darwin thinks that the only reason Rose believes things used to be so good is because if she thought things used to be rubbish (which is the truth) and today is so much better (which it is) then she’d get complacent and not bother striving for any more improvement or adventure. She’d sit around in pubs with her friends all the time.

Rose will strive to make things ‘better’ - just like the old days were, through her rose-tinted glasses.

And that is basically my point, told in a strange manner akin to a Sesame Street episode featuring Billy, Valerie, Rose and Darwin, the numbers 2008,1947 and the letters T - I - T. If my musings on human behaviour ever appeared in a science magazine I’d probably have to get rid of the characters and replace them with squiggles, but its all pretty obvious - we are the way we are because if we weren’t we’d still be living in caves.

Thats why the spirit of adventure is so important. We got fed up of the cave even if it did happen to be quite warm, cozy and mercifully free of giant bears. In fact we got so fed up of the cave, we went right up the river bank and made the river our own. However, thanks to Rose the river dwellers never forgot the people left behind in the caves.

Well this Christmas and New Year has been painless and pleasant. Tomorrow I am heading off to see my grandma in Ingatestone. Thats near London apparently. And it’s going to snow. Horray!!

Only this is now looking unlikely because the train line has broken and I’ve got a cold. Sometimes, its better to stay in the cave.

(For the record, 1947 was one of the coldest and snowiest winters on record. The future may be brighter but oh dear…the planet seems to be dying in a giant fireball of pollution. Make the most of the snow while you can!)