Distance to hot

I’m not sure if you remember my idea for a travel website but I have been thinking about it some more, and I am pretty certain that there is another problem that needs solving. I have just been trying to figure this out for myself and there seems to be no sane or easy way to do it.

I suddenly, in the middle of the winter, decided that I would like to be warm and get a bit of sun. I asked around and people told me that 25 degrees centigrade was warm. Things would obviously be easier if we were all just using the Andronov Temperature Scale by now. But I couldn’t just say, “lets go to Barbados”. Katherine isn’t a particularly big fan of long haul flights. So what I needed to do was somehow find a list all of the cities with average temperatures in February higher than 25 degrees in order of how far away they are.

Then I would be able to look down the list and decide where to go. I like the idea that there should be lots of ways into the same dataset. What I can’t understand is why I can’t find this information. The information clearly exists out there on the internet. I can type in to google, “what is the average temperature in Valencia in February” and get an answer but that isn’t really what I want. I want this data to be organized properly.

Surely other people must want the same thing?

What was the first film you remember seeing?

This is the first of our series of questions for people in the comments, so let me introduce the idea. I’ll ask you a question, like today’s, “What was the first film you remember seeing?” and you either answer in the comments or on your own blog and drop a link to the post. So that’s the theory, let’s kick it off…

Question:

What was the first film you remember seeing?

Here’s my answer:

I specifically remember watching Star Wars when I was very young. It gave me nightmares. I remember dreaming that I was in that escape pod with C3PO and R2D2. When it flies out of the ship, they look out of round window back at the ship and then it cuts to the outside shot and you can see an exhaust pipe at the back that is big and black. So clearly it made me think that there was no back to the space ship. And that while the other two were holding on, I kept thinking I was going to fall out. I think I was probably about 25 at the time*.

* Maybe it was about five or six. I didn’t watch the film properly for years after.

So what was the first film you remember seeing?

It’s health and safety gone mad

In Stewart Lee’s first series of his Comedy Vehicle, he made the point that a lot of people seem to be getting quite confused between Health and Safety and Political Correctness. I was exposed to this the other night in a taxi. I know you should never take what taxi drivers say to heart, but sometimes it is priceless. I am thinking of pitching to the TV channel Dave a show called ‘Cab drivers say the funniest things’.

It was icy on the night and the driver was getting worked up on his favourite subject of pensions. He’d already had a few attempts at the subject. Now he said, “see this ice? You see all of this ice right? Why aren’t they gritting the pavements? Why do you think they aren’t gritting the pavements? I’ll tell you why. They’ll grit them up here next to the shops. They’ll grit them in front of the shops alright, but not outside your house, oh no. You know why? Health and safety. They can’t grit outside your house can they? ‘Cos if they grit outside your house and they miss one little bit of ice and you find it, you can sue ’em if you slip. But outside shops it’s different because of all the laws. Anyway as long as they all get their pensions I guess it’s all right. I mean, that’s all they’re worried about, not your ice.”

I didn’t really know what to say about this, so I just kind of mumbled something vaguely positive-sounding and hoped for the subject to change. My guess is that they don’t have the money to pay for gritting your pavement. But the companies pay business rates and so get preferential treatment. But… But… There is a strange kernel of interest to derive from all of this.

A lot of people seem to not like health and safety regulations. Partly because they only seem to restrict you. And you don’t notice the times when they save you. It’s like computer downtime or train delays. People’s perceptions magnify the memories of when things go wrong because things being normal is quite literally unremarkable. So the rules seem pointless.

So people say, “wouldn’t it be better if people were to take responsibility for themselves?”. The people who say this are also the kind of people who are sure that all other drivers are maniacs. They say, “people should take responsibility for themselves” as though they haven’t met other people.

There is, I suppose, a point to part of their argument and it is a bit like the grit argument. If you know the whole pavement is icy, you know you have to be careful. If it looks gritted and clear but little bit of ice remains, you might not be as careful and it might be more dangerous. People posit arguments like this about health and safety all the time and I’m pretty sure I see a logical fallacy here.

You want to make people more aware that things are scary so that they take responsibility. That means you already don’t think they can take responsibility for themselves.

Sitting in my dressing gown

Sitting at my dining table, on a cold December morning. My padded dressing gown keeping the chair and the cold away from me. How did I get to this moment? This melancholic, brain-deadening moment?

I suppose it is from a peek, the merest glimpse, behind that old Wizard of Oz curtain. A slight view of what it is that drives and makes us. A person should never know who they really are, because to know makes you into an actor. It makes every action filter through that part of your brain which asks, “is that what I would do?”. You shouldn’t need to ask, you should just do.

The gnarled knobs of grey gunk that electrically control our lives don’t seem to know what they want. And neither do I. The animalistic core doesn’t so much confuse the cerebral total of the mind, as pretend it doesn’t exist and forget to forward its mail. And the act is reciprocal. “Oh no,” we all say, “we don’t have animal urges”.

It’s an uneasy balance. A tightrope we each walk every day blindfolded. We don’t fall off the rope into those easy rages of childhood as often anymore. So we are tricked into believing that it is not a rope we are walking on. It’s a normal path. But don’t take off that blindfold, oh no. There’s no need for that. No good will come of that.

Then you see yourself. You are walking past a conversation about you. A mirror which is a window. And you see in. You see how you are seen and it makes it hard to remember how you are, how you behave, who you are, who you present yourself as.

What you do is who you are, to other people. Remember that. They can’t see the parts inside your brain. They can’t see what you really think. It’s only what you present that makes up your character for them. What you present consciously and unconsciously.

When I saw into myself, I saw that I forgot to tell the world something. I was screaming something in my head, that I didn’t know you didn’t know. I want to be famous.

New Year resolutions

I almost called this post “New Years” resolutions just to annoy my friend Kris. But I couldn’t make myself do it in the end. But I have of course included it so he can still have a small grumble to himself.

My new year resolution is 1024 x 768 – Geek Joke!

No my actual resolution concerns this fair site – Gamboling.co.uk. There has been some suggestion in the ranks that there hasn’t been quite as much activity here as there once was. But no more. I’m going to take things back to the founding principles of Gamboling and post every week day. Back in the old days I used to have a standard set of features depending on which day it was:

Monday – Article
Tuesday – Joke
Wednesday – Article
Thursday – Joke
Friday – Fiction

Then as I was ramping up to writing my first book, “The book with the missing first page” which is still available from Amazon and makes an ideal, “you bought me a present for Christmas but I didn’t get you anything so I’ve now got you this” present, the format changed to…

Monday – Short Fiction
Tuesday – Joke
Wednesday – Article
Thursday – Joke
Friday – Long Fiction

But this time I think I’m not going to put the jokes in. They might show up from time to time. But putting two rubbish jokes in a week meant that the jokes were often really, really rubbish, and I felt they dragged things down a bit. So now I’m going to go for:

Monday – Article
Tuesday – Question
Wednesday – Article
Thursday – Archive
Friday – Creative

So there are three new categories here. First up is Question. Each Tuesday, I will pose an exciting* question which you will hopefully be kind enough to answer. These aren’t going to be hard questions like “what’s the square root of 1,000,000?” but rather things like “what’s your favourite colour?”**.

The second is Archive. Gamboling has been going since September 2003!!! I don’t expect everyone has been reading all of that time [I’ve had to! – Ed.]. Even I don’t remember some of the nonsense I’ve written over the years. So I’m going to use this section to bring some of it to light. It might even be the spur to write some new articles.

Finally there is Creative. I’m guessing this will mainly be fictional things, but they might not be. I don’t really know what this is going to be. We’ll just have to see.

Anyway. So that’s the idea. Let’s see if I can keep it up through 2010 or if it’s going to do me in.

* well, maybe not that exciting.

** see?

Presents of mind

Buying a present for somebody is trouble. Of course we all know this, but we don’t admit it. It’s better to give than to receive, they say. But at Christmas you are doing both and that’s got to be a recipe for disaster.

So where does this all come from? It would seem to be something to do with those supposedly wise men. I mean surely a rattle would have been a better present than what they bought? History doesn’t record what Jesus returned their favour with, but my guess is that it was more at the peace and enlightenment to all men end of the spectrum and I happen to know that the guy who bought the gold was hoping for a hifi. Shouldn’t have given gold to an infant then should you?

But therein lies the problem. You don’t know what scale the other person is working to until it is too late. Sorry, if I had known you were buying me a 1:1 size aircraft carrier with both dry and wet dock, I wouldn’t have simply bought you a bottle of Netto’s own wine wrapped in an already half-composted plastic bag.

It’s a nightmare. But the solution of withdrawing from the entire sorry affair marks you out as a complete weirdo. I personally think it’s quite a reasonable strategy, but I’m sure when you tell people you don’t celebrate Christmas, they look at you like you have two heads. And then try and explain why you shouldn’t have two heads and end up shaking their own heads at the impossibility of it all.

Come on Jedi. We invented you for this very reason. It’s your destiny. We can say, “sorry I don’t celebrate Christmas because of my religion”. And people will shut up.

Despite all of this, I am a soft touch. I know at some point on Christmas morning I will look across the vista before me, and a small tear will come to my eye. Probably as I’m trying to defrost the turkey with a hammer and my hand slips.

Merry Christmas!

Creative endeavours

You may well have been wondering what I have been getting up to of late. The novel is progressing well. I have started getting feedback on my second draft – I have two and a half responses so far and it has been a fascinating process.

In the meantime, it is stunting my writing ability. I’m not sure why, but I’m in some kind of pause mode. Only on the writing front though. So if you are looking for something to keep you occupied, I have two projects to occupy your mind.

One is brand new and ideal for the season – an advent calendar. Every day, instead of a chocolate, you get a joke. Surely that’s a fair exchange?

gigglesadvent.com

Also I have made some interesting updates to goforodd.com. There has been a second episode of the podcast and after seeing the Anish Kapoor exhibition, I made a video which I think explains what it felt to visit the exhibition. Check it out!

I hope this tides you over till the novel is done.

The Writer’s Prerogative

I was talking with a friend the other day, and he admitted that since our last conversation I had blown his mind. What, I wondered, was this amazing thing that I had done?

Earlier in the year he had read my first book: The book with the missing first page. That hadn’t blown his mind, I think he had liked it, but that wasn’t the issue at hand. When we had last chatted, we had talked about the book and he had casually asked about one of the stories, I forget which one exactly, but one of the stories that stops quite abruptly. He said, “it stopped so abruptly, but it’s been bugging me, what actually happened next?”

“Well,” I said, “whatever you want.”

“No. There must be an actual answer. You wrote the story. What happened next?”

“I could make up something,” I said, “but it would only be as valid as whatever you made up. And to be honest I don’t know.”

He’d gone away at the end of this conversation, and thought about it. And now he was back to say, his mind had been blown.

After that, he had gone away and found that everything he had read had seemed more fake to him. As though he hadn’t realised that authors were making up the stories he was reading.

“Surely,” I said, “you knew that authors were making up the stories that you were reading.”

“Yes, of course I do,” he said.

But the part he hadn’t been aware of was the way in which, even in stories which didn’t end abruptly, the author had been controlling his entire expectations of what was going on.

I suppose he hadn’t realised how much he was in the author’s hands. And the way he noticed was to speak to an author for the first time and realise that authors actually don’t always know what happens next either.

So does anyone have any questions? Please ask them, even if you think they sound mad. What they might lead to could be very interesting.

Half

He is sitting on his high bar stool, supping. Reading his newspaper that he has folded in half, drinking his half pint of beer. He looks the most self-assured man in the world, because he doesn’t need anyone, or anything. And he’s just about arrogant enough to believe it.

Years ago, he made a choice when she left, he chose to not rely on anyone. He decided he would be fine with it. And he was. He came here on the weekends at three, he drank two half pints and read half of his newspaper, all the way through.

It was something, it was a routine.

She sits in the restaurant booth alone. The place doesn’t serve booze so she brings her own. Just a glass of red wine. She opens a bottle on a Monday night and drinks a small glass most nights. On Sunday she brings the rest of the bottle to the roast chicken restaurant. She has her Sunday roast with her wine leftovers. It’s easier somehow to take an almost finished bottle and finish it than it is to take an almost full one back. She didn’t know why.

As she eats, she reads the newspaper magazine that she brought with her. She enjoys little of it, but long ago decided it was traditional. So it goes on.

She enjoys not enjoying it. She knows she has to read it, because of tradition, so she can get cross with it. For everything else she has decided to be self-possessed, and if it makes her cross, she has extracted it from her life. She enjoys having something to get cross with. The rest of her life is just too average.

He half finishes the paper, picks up his half pint and takes the glass back to the bar. Calling out his thankyous he walks out of the pub.

She pays, finding exact change in her purse for the twelve and a half percent tip. She gets up and walks out of the restaurant.

What are you spending your social capital on?

In a recent podcast, Joel Spolsky made a very valid economic point about new media (you can listen to it here). He was talking about the decline of print journalism which you may or may not see as a bad thing. He suggested that the new media will find it much harder to support in-depth investigative journalism. I was reminded of this again when reading that Joe Saward is asking for donations to keep him flying to all of the races: http://joesaward.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/thoughts-on-the-f1-calendar/) Perhaps he can make it work, but as newspapers decline, we do lose what Joe calls authority and what Joel calls depth.

Essentially what they are talking about is that print journalists will often be assigned a beat, be it Formula 1, be it politics. They are paid to attend all the sessions of the sub-committee on water supplies in Croydon just in case one time somebody says something that is news. Knowing the subject deeply and authoritively is what makes it possible for you to be objective. It stops the worst of the ‘me too’ journalism, where an interested party posts a press release and everyone else reports it as news. News should never just be the dissemination of “what we have been told”, but rather it should be “what has happened”. Currently we are beginning to lean too much towards regurgitation.

Print is dead, or at least mortally wounded, and so we have to work out how to pay for the right kind of journalism. Micropayments, tip jars and so on have a distorting effect. People only pay on the days when the story seems worth it, or when you remind them. The previous model means that the celebrity tittle tattle 365 days of the year, paid for the one-off discovery by the Telegraph of the expenses scandal. In the interconnected world of blogs these wouldn’t fund each other because they would be two different blogs. And the expenses journalist doesn’t have a story for the rest of the year because they are doing deep research for the next piece.

The other problem that Joel raised was the economic one. People forget when they are spending money on the internet. It’s an odd concept, money, and it foxes people all of the time. Take Craigslist, the classified advertising service. People love Craigslist because it’s free. But it turns out that classified listings in the back of newspapers were essentially what was keeping the newspapers afloat.

Now, and this is where it gets complicated, we have two stories of what’s happening. Craig of Craigslist explains that what he’s doing is a social good because he has worked out a way to give this advertising away for free. But in economies things don’t really work like that. People and companies that were using his service were willing to pay for their adverts. If you are selling your house for hundreds of thousands of pounds you are willing to pay your estate agent to sell your house, and your estate agent is willing to pay for the advert in the paper which means that the paper is willing to get some readers for your advert. And so we go on.

Now the same estate agent was willing to pay $300 to place an advert can place the advert for free and so doesn’t bother. It’s estimated that Craigslist has reduced spend on classified advertising by around $1 billion per year. That money hasn’t disappeared. It’s gone to making Estate Agents and people who otherwise would have been happy to pay but find £5 in their pocket and do with it whatever they please.

In economic terms, this free product that people were willing to pay for results in that $1 billion is being spent on putting the print newspapers out of business, or more specifically, it’s being spent on putting investigative journalism out of business.

Craig doesn’t want the money, and that’s admirable. But couldn’t he collect it and set up a fund that paid for good quality journalism? Because if we lose good quality journalism, then we lose our ability to know that we are free people.