Wednesday, 30 September 2015
The Wonder of 1p
The Wonder of 1p
Regular readers will recall my writing about AL-LAD, a substance that became available through Research Chemical vendors along with LSZ. Both were made illegal on the 7th of January 2015. These spin offs from LSD25 were both fascinating lysergics of which I read not a single scare story or bad review. Their were a few tales of people who had no effects from AL-LAD and LSZ proved to be the least interesting of the two. Various tryptamines were made illegal at the same time but none of these were popular or missed much. Before the ban I experimented with both. LSZ I only tried a couple of times but found it untaxing, slow in pace but handle able in social settings. AL-LAD I found to be an improvement on LSD having no dark corners, no scary thought traps and an uplifting euphoria to accompany the colourful visuals. It was the best substance I have ever come across. Some acid purists suggest some of the depth of spiritual discovery is the cost of the easier ride however, though this has some truth to it, the security in having lower anxiety permits the tripper to let go of the sides. To allow the trip to take them where it wants, and much trip time is wasted in resisting the effects. To my mind, there is a place for both. I pictured a similar shift in culture developeing as had occurred with LSD in the sixties and early seventies or as occurred with MDMA in the late eighties and nineties. The changes in fashion, music, architecture, design and broader social culture these drugs ushered in are still felt today. Countless people who never imbibed of either substance listen to music inspired by, wear clothes inspired by, sit in chairs whose shapes were affected by, in rooms whose wallpapers, decor and colouring are steered by form and pattern reflective of the shifts in consciousness that LSD and MDMA inspired. Our cultural history has been affected to a level where a walk down any city street will see lighting, cars, sounds booming from cars, dress that would be quite different had these two chemicals not been around. Both, however, were flawed. LSD could be very challenging. The occasional but rare bad trip giving it a reputation as the heaven and hell drug. MDMA triggered such a rise in serotonin that many users slumped into midweek depressions. A burning of the brain cells could be felt even from the finest quality. AL -LAD had neither of these defects. The changes I had imagined never came about as the ban nipped in the bud the interest AL-LAD. It is no longer available to the law abiding and difficult to access for the handful who wouldn't care about its legality. LSD can count the emergence of music festivals, whole foods, a rise in vegetarianism, environmentalism, a greater interest in eastern religions amongst its cultural effects. MDMA saw off football tribalism, class prejudice, the mixing of cultures as travellers to council estate ravers to public schooled techno musicians dancing together. We will never know what AL-LAD could have delivered. There is a resurgence of interest in psychedelics taking place as psychologists, psychiatrists are now once again running programmes to test out benefits these drugs can deliver. Positive results in curing addiction, long term depression, PTSD and successful trials with the terminally ill in coming to terms with their end. The Psychedelic Society has been organising protests to have psychedelics seen as seperate to other drugs and campaigning for freedom to trip. A global interest in shamanism has seen hundreds of people travelling to Peru and other Amazonian places to undergo ayuashka ceremonies, returning changed. Lifetimes spent under self imposed limitations and self inflicted illness can be opened up, salvaged as a new way of being, a new way of seeing opens up to the previously troubled. DMT has a huge underground following with many who believe it offers a glimpse into parallel dimensions. As the secret of consciousness becomes mans prime focus it seems these substances offer clues, keys to understanding. With all this floating about the zeitgeist, AL-LAD, though discovered in the seventies by Japanese researchers, appeared, through the Research Chemical scene, to have landed at a prime time in mankinds history. Whether it's effects were to have been on culture, religion or neuroscience, it seems now fare to say the revolution has been postponed.
As one door closed, another opened. Within a week of the AL-LAD ban, the people who brought AL-LAD to the wider public revealed a new legal lysergic. 1p-LSD or 1p-LAD came, in its first batch, as a camo patterned blotter at 100ug. 1p-LSD is the N-propionyl analogue of LSD and a homologue of ALD-52. The question for me was could the paradigm shift in human consciousness that AL-LAD could have ushered in had it remained legal occur with 1p-LSD? There is next to nothing written about britains novel new legal lysergamide other than Internet forum discussion. The discussion boards set up for legal research chemicals tend to attract younger people though many older more experienced heads do post up also. The rules tend to exclude discussion of illegals and tend to influence an assumption that legal is ok and illegal wrong. Yet staying safe and staying legal are quite different things. Sifting through takes a while to learn who are worth reading and who not. The younger people, though vastly less experienced with drugs as a whole tend to have a wider knowledge of chemistry. Reports on the whole suggest that much like ALD-52, 1p-LSD is more euphoric, lower body load, less demanding yet less inclined to deliver the spiritual depth and soul searching of its illegal big brother. These words equally apply to AL-LAD. The big question is how well does it match up to AL-LAD.
My first few experiences suggested it wasn't the game changer AL-LAD was. Presumably the early synths were in essence prototypes for the more recent synths and I have noticed a vast improvement as the year has progressed. All lysergamides are counter addictive. 100% tolerance follows a trip and a week must be left before another trip can deliver much. Another month if a trip of equal intensity is to be seen. The early trips on any drug tend to automatically measure against other lysergamides. One tends to look for the effects felt from what you know. Any drug takes a series of experiences before the mind learns what it is about. It is common for the first few goes on any drug to be a disappointment as the mind just doesn't know what to look for. So my earliest trips were quite different to what more recent ones have been like. Al-LAD was awash with colours of greens to reds and many of no name where as early1p trips were silver stippled, a white light, crisp and frosty. Again lacking the depth but also lacking the anxiety. This lack of anxiety delivers a freedom from mental restraint and it is this holding back, this fighting against the effects that stimies many trips. Sold largely alongside research chemicals by vendors selling anything legal it finds itself amongst a whole bunch of crap that offer no good to mankind. This substance, wherever it stands in the lysergic charts, stands head and shoulders above all other research chemicals currently on the market. Checking through the vendor sites, many lead their listings with 1p before a long list of rubbish beneath.
Whether my earlier experiences were clouded by LSD or AL-LAD expectations or whether the newest batches are of a higher quality I don't know. What I do know is I am beginning to find it as amazing as AL-LAD.
Following my last episode that was at a party, poor setting and clouded by alcohol in early July I felt ready to trip again. Three months is a healthy gap between trips, time enough to assimilate all learning garnered from the last. I seldom trip these days. In my youth after discovering mushrooms I took them far too frequently. By twenty I had given up tripping altogether and never thought I'd return to it. I felt too fragile. Too much mental baggage. Now, having worked my way through addiction, I am tea total and free of drugs. It was approaching fifty that I realised that occasional psychedelic use, what got me into drugs, was not the problem. So I keep a straight head but take the occasional trip. I regard it as a sacrament. As near to a religion as I have. Indeed, it was finding AL-LAD, and what it revealed to me, that finally cured a lifetime of drug misuse.
Perhaps it was the bad experiences from drinking whilst tripping, or some subconscious seasonal awareness. Being this time of year with the leaves changing colour and dampness underfoot, the fungi season, I believe I'd made some association with mushroom trips from my youth. I never take mushrooms anymore. Psylocibin is a tryptamine, similar but very different to lysergamides. I didn't want the manic delirium of mushrooms. On a spiritual level they are hard to beat. My world view was changed by psylocibin more than any other substance. One day, in perfect set and setting I'd like to once more see the dimension they reveal. But it wasn't what I was lock-in for. So a seasonal subconscious apprehension gave a pre drop anxiety.
I walked out to the edge of the town and once past the buildings chewed up the two blotters, 200ug of 1p-LSD. I ought to have taken it a tad earlier so first effects hit as I hit the fields. Looking at my phone it was 11.45 am. A beautiful autumn morning and warm in the sun. Looking a cross the mendips, me and Dook, my Siberian husky cross German shepherd strode across the field. Taking a path we know well we headed downhill to the river in the valley below.
It's a walk I used to do each day and I know the twists and turns of the river well, many of the trees and much of the wildlife I'd likely see. Few people were out, just the odd dog walker. I'd hoped to be peaking in the woodland but I'd made my way towards the exiting path before the first tingles began.
Coming up I've never enjoyed. It's the transition. Not knowing how strong it will be. Oddly, and many psychedelic users agree, a lower dose leads to greater anxiety than a stronger dose. My most anxious trip ever was in my early twenties on little more than ten mushrooms. In my teens I'd done several hundred at a time.
Once the effects began to show I felt greater confidence. The come up seemed long in duration and the trip had many phases. An aspect of AL-LAD is its relative brevity lasting 4-6 hours, seldom more. 1p, however, lasts a good eleven hours and trace effects linger far longer.
As we reascended the hill it was some 45 minutes since eating the blotters and a mild but decent strength of effect settled on me and stayed at this level for an hour or so. The grass shimmered and wind patterns across the field slipped from random turbulence into regular folding patterns. I tried to sit down to let the effects settle in but my dog couldn't settle so continued walking. Whilst coming up I find walking and movement prevent the mind from accepting the changes so my mission became a search to find somewhere to sit.
Peruvian shamans wait till night before imbibing their ayuashka as do most people I know who take psychedelics. I too prefer the night as darkness can allow hallucinations to develope more readily. It also provides something of a shield as one can feel quite exposed. Inexperienced trippers invariably feel that straight people must inevitably be able to tell they are off their heads. Whilst their pupils will be dilated there is often little to give you away, to the untrained eye at least. But, today, I knew the nights were drawing in so the latter part of the trip would be under the cloak of darkness, and the autumn sunshine was quite beautiful. This ultimately became one of the strongest day light trips I have ever done.
Once back in the outer suburbs I decided to make my way to the shop to buy a drink with the plan of taking it to the park to sit and let the trip settle in. I felt a bit wild eyed as the staff served me but no looks of disdain. We walked to the park, found a quiet corner, smoked a roll up and drank my can. Feeling a bit of an alien as the leaves on the trees rippled like an animals pelt. I couldn't relax so drank quickly, still in the lower stage of intensity, then made for ginnels off main routes before returning to the flat.
Here, able to relax, the trip took on a new phase. A clear step up in strength. I've had this domain before. It's like a glimpse of a plasticised future. An X factor world of synthetic fabrics and glossy plastics. A peep at fashion in ten years from now. It's not pleasant for a green outdoor hedge monkey like myself yet it's curious that this near future domain I sometimes enter, is the same each time. It's details are to a style. A hyper girls world of teen glamour, synthetic musical sounds and dayglo furs. Leading me to think it may be accurate, a real peep through the veils of time.
The room became different with a hatch leading to the bathroom. An open plan space. I informed my partner I was transcendent which she never takes well. She said it looked weak as I seemed normal. From inside it was strong and gathering strength. Fair enough, I guess. Being in another head state tends to distance people. I know how I feel when drunk freinds drop in to our sober world as they make their loud way home from the pub. But lysergics deliver a delicate, fragile and beautiful condition. I don't mind experienced trippers but hate baby sitting beginners. I'd not encourage others. It's their choice, a big choice and a very personal one. I do know, however, for me it ranks up with falling in love as a life experience. Something that opened my eyes and led to a life quite different from what it would have been without.
Leaving Dook I went on a mission into town. A mushroom trip of comparable intensity would be fraught with fear, a real adventure. But I felt confident. Whether being older I feel no sin or guilt in being in a higher state, or the relative hippy peace of South western towns compared to tripping in leeds as a youth where the potential for meeting some gang of yobs seemed ever likely in my young teens, I enjoy a trip confidence I never had in my teens. Bouncing down the cobbled street, houses bent in as my surroundings took on the plasticine quality of an ardman production. I felt euphoric, bold, hungry to taste the town in its bright and fluid state. Looking back I can't recall what my mission entailed. Perhaps I went to Argos.
Returning home I played some music. Soft St etienne and a few test songs from the new Libertines. 'Heart of the matter' stands up as does 'Gunga Din', the latter I played four times in succession and the song stuck in my head as the soundtrack for the rest of the day. An anthem to suit my euphoria and bold condition.
Back at the flat I began to feel hemmed in as a new phase of colour and more block like visuals took on a cubist period. Dook looked frisky again and I needed a charger for my iPad so we walked to Asda, somewhere between a half mile and a mile. Though still fragmentary in the visual sense we negotiated traffic and other dogs. Dogs pick up on it when you're tripping and mine, anyway, becomes protective though less concerned with his own interactions. No aggression to other dogs, just the protectiveness a dog for the blind might deliver. Asda happened swiftly, buying a couple of pastas should I need food.
We returned on the far side of the river. Here I let Dook run free and stood to let mesmeric hallucinations develope from the wind sculpting the trees and grass in patterns of a regularity and beauty. Colourwise the trip felt more akin to AL-LAD then my memories of the white light and silvery crisp 1p visuals I'd come to know. It struck me then, could this be AL-LAD so similar was it visually. The trips longevity put this idea to rest. Were it the lad I'd be passed peak and returning to base by now but the experience was in peek flow.
Back up through the town went swiftly. Once home I tried to eat. This caused me to vomit in a purge like manner more common to ayuashka. I wasn't able to keep anything down till 10pm when the trip began to fade.
Often I find a trip delivers a wish. It's as though a little magic slips through and the impossible is able to occur. Tonight was the Leeds Huddersfield, Wigan v Cas night to decide league leaders. The night was one of the greatest sporting nights I can recall. I've already written about the events but the point I wish to make was that the issue seemed sealed. Leeds were lucky to have drawn ensuring home advantage in the play offs. Wigan appeared to have snatched league leaders shield. Yet with a second to go, Danny McGuire chipped the ball over the Huddersfield defence, a move I've seen attempted in blind desperation in similar circumstances but it virtually never comes off. The hooter sounded meaning the next stop in play meant game over. Yet Ryan Hall, who up to this point had played one of his worst games of the season, found the ball in his hands and ran half the field to score a try of legend. One that will be talked of for years to come. The media, the pundits, both who hold a Wigan bias were clearly none plussed yet blown away by the majesty of the moment. A perfect end to a wonderful day.
There were no life changing insights, a recognition I must stop smoking aside, but for utter wonder at our being. Sheer awe at the fluke of existence. The trip had few to call par.
And perhaps that is as much as 1p can offer. So much of our lives we walk through grumbling at trivial concerns, blind to the beauty of the near impossibility of being born in a universe of unappreciable wonder and scale, waking each day on a beautiful blue planet of balance to support life of such magnificent, resplendent, sumptuous wonder. If all a trip does is remind us of our good fortune, then that is enough. For me that is God. The utter transcendent wonder of being. We will most likely never know the answers to the biggest questions, but for a breif window we get the gift of witnessing such beauty. This should be enough for anyone.
My imagined AL-LAD paradigm shift in consciousness seems unlikely. No doubt the government will make 1p illegal also before long. But this window has seen another generation, or a small portion of it, have life opened up as it was for mine by mushrooms and acid. We will see. The changes are bound to effect the perifery of culture. The acceptance of evolution took a century to take hold and even now some creationists still hold out. But it's a step. Another step towards a higher consciousness.
Sent from my iPad
Regular readers will recall my writing about AL-LAD, a substance that became available through Research Chemical vendors along with LSZ. Both were made illegal on the 7th of January 2015. These spin offs from LSD25 were both fascinating lysergics of which I read not a single scare story or bad review. Their were a few tales of people who had no effects from AL-LAD and LSZ proved to be the least interesting of the two. Various tryptamines were made illegal at the same time but none of these were popular or missed much. Before the ban I experimented with both. LSZ I only tried a couple of times but found it untaxing, slow in pace but handle able in social settings. AL-LAD I found to be an improvement on LSD having no dark corners, no scary thought traps and an uplifting euphoria to accompany the colourful visuals. It was the best substance I have ever come across. Some acid purists suggest some of the depth of spiritual discovery is the cost of the easier ride however, though this has some truth to it, the security in having lower anxiety permits the tripper to let go of the sides. To allow the trip to take them where it wants, and much trip time is wasted in resisting the effects. To my mind, there is a place for both. I pictured a similar shift in culture developeing as had occurred with LSD in the sixties and early seventies or as occurred with MDMA in the late eighties and nineties. The changes in fashion, music, architecture, design and broader social culture these drugs ushered in are still felt today. Countless people who never imbibed of either substance listen to music inspired by, wear clothes inspired by, sit in chairs whose shapes were affected by, in rooms whose wallpapers, decor and colouring are steered by form and pattern reflective of the shifts in consciousness that LSD and MDMA inspired. Our cultural history has been affected to a level where a walk down any city street will see lighting, cars, sounds booming from cars, dress that would be quite different had these two chemicals not been around. Both, however, were flawed. LSD could be very challenging. The occasional but rare bad trip giving it a reputation as the heaven and hell drug. MDMA triggered such a rise in serotonin that many users slumped into midweek depressions. A burning of the brain cells could be felt even from the finest quality. AL -LAD had neither of these defects. The changes I had imagined never came about as the ban nipped in the bud the interest AL-LAD. It is no longer available to the law abiding and difficult to access for the handful who wouldn't care about its legality. LSD can count the emergence of music festivals, whole foods, a rise in vegetarianism, environmentalism, a greater interest in eastern religions amongst its cultural effects. MDMA saw off football tribalism, class prejudice, the mixing of cultures as travellers to council estate ravers to public schooled techno musicians dancing together. We will never know what AL-LAD could have delivered. There is a resurgence of interest in psychedelics taking place as psychologists, psychiatrists are now once again running programmes to test out benefits these drugs can deliver. Positive results in curing addiction, long term depression, PTSD and successful trials with the terminally ill in coming to terms with their end. The Psychedelic Society has been organising protests to have psychedelics seen as seperate to other drugs and campaigning for freedom to trip. A global interest in shamanism has seen hundreds of people travelling to Peru and other Amazonian places to undergo ayuashka ceremonies, returning changed. Lifetimes spent under self imposed limitations and self inflicted illness can be opened up, salvaged as a new way of being, a new way of seeing opens up to the previously troubled. DMT has a huge underground following with many who believe it offers a glimpse into parallel dimensions. As the secret of consciousness becomes mans prime focus it seems these substances offer clues, keys to understanding. With all this floating about the zeitgeist, AL-LAD, though discovered in the seventies by Japanese researchers, appeared, through the Research Chemical scene, to have landed at a prime time in mankinds history. Whether it's effects were to have been on culture, religion or neuroscience, it seems now fare to say the revolution has been postponed.
As one door closed, another opened. Within a week of the AL-LAD ban, the people who brought AL-LAD to the wider public revealed a new legal lysergic. 1p-LSD or 1p-LAD came, in its first batch, as a camo patterned blotter at 100ug. 1p-LSD is the N-propionyl analogue of LSD and a homologue of ALD-52. The question for me was could the paradigm shift in human consciousness that AL-LAD could have ushered in had it remained legal occur with 1p-LSD? There is next to nothing written about britains novel new legal lysergamide other than Internet forum discussion. The discussion boards set up for legal research chemicals tend to attract younger people though many older more experienced heads do post up also. The rules tend to exclude discussion of illegals and tend to influence an assumption that legal is ok and illegal wrong. Yet staying safe and staying legal are quite different things. Sifting through takes a while to learn who are worth reading and who not. The younger people, though vastly less experienced with drugs as a whole tend to have a wider knowledge of chemistry. Reports on the whole suggest that much like ALD-52, 1p-LSD is more euphoric, lower body load, less demanding yet less inclined to deliver the spiritual depth and soul searching of its illegal big brother. These words equally apply to AL-LAD. The big question is how well does it match up to AL-LAD.
My first few experiences suggested it wasn't the game changer AL-LAD was. Presumably the early synths were in essence prototypes for the more recent synths and I have noticed a vast improvement as the year has progressed. All lysergamides are counter addictive. 100% tolerance follows a trip and a week must be left before another trip can deliver much. Another month if a trip of equal intensity is to be seen. The early trips on any drug tend to automatically measure against other lysergamides. One tends to look for the effects felt from what you know. Any drug takes a series of experiences before the mind learns what it is about. It is common for the first few goes on any drug to be a disappointment as the mind just doesn't know what to look for. So my earliest trips were quite different to what more recent ones have been like. Al-LAD was awash with colours of greens to reds and many of no name where as early1p trips were silver stippled, a white light, crisp and frosty. Again lacking the depth but also lacking the anxiety. This lack of anxiety delivers a freedom from mental restraint and it is this holding back, this fighting against the effects that stimies many trips. Sold largely alongside research chemicals by vendors selling anything legal it finds itself amongst a whole bunch of crap that offer no good to mankind. This substance, wherever it stands in the lysergic charts, stands head and shoulders above all other research chemicals currently on the market. Checking through the vendor sites, many lead their listings with 1p before a long list of rubbish beneath.
Whether my earlier experiences were clouded by LSD or AL-LAD expectations or whether the newest batches are of a higher quality I don't know. What I do know is I am beginning to find it as amazing as AL-LAD.
Following my last episode that was at a party, poor setting and clouded by alcohol in early July I felt ready to trip again. Three months is a healthy gap between trips, time enough to assimilate all learning garnered from the last. I seldom trip these days. In my youth after discovering mushrooms I took them far too frequently. By twenty I had given up tripping altogether and never thought I'd return to it. I felt too fragile. Too much mental baggage. Now, having worked my way through addiction, I am tea total and free of drugs. It was approaching fifty that I realised that occasional psychedelic use, what got me into drugs, was not the problem. So I keep a straight head but take the occasional trip. I regard it as a sacrament. As near to a religion as I have. Indeed, it was finding AL-LAD, and what it revealed to me, that finally cured a lifetime of drug misuse.
Perhaps it was the bad experiences from drinking whilst tripping, or some subconscious seasonal awareness. Being this time of year with the leaves changing colour and dampness underfoot, the fungi season, I believe I'd made some association with mushroom trips from my youth. I never take mushrooms anymore. Psylocibin is a tryptamine, similar but very different to lysergamides. I didn't want the manic delirium of mushrooms. On a spiritual level they are hard to beat. My world view was changed by psylocibin more than any other substance. One day, in perfect set and setting I'd like to once more see the dimension they reveal. But it wasn't what I was lock-in for. So a seasonal subconscious apprehension gave a pre drop anxiety.
I walked out to the edge of the town and once past the buildings chewed up the two blotters, 200ug of 1p-LSD. I ought to have taken it a tad earlier so first effects hit as I hit the fields. Looking at my phone it was 11.45 am. A beautiful autumn morning and warm in the sun. Looking a cross the mendips, me and Dook, my Siberian husky cross German shepherd strode across the field. Taking a path we know well we headed downhill to the river in the valley below.
It's a walk I used to do each day and I know the twists and turns of the river well, many of the trees and much of the wildlife I'd likely see. Few people were out, just the odd dog walker. I'd hoped to be peaking in the woodland but I'd made my way towards the exiting path before the first tingles began.
Coming up I've never enjoyed. It's the transition. Not knowing how strong it will be. Oddly, and many psychedelic users agree, a lower dose leads to greater anxiety than a stronger dose. My most anxious trip ever was in my early twenties on little more than ten mushrooms. In my teens I'd done several hundred at a time.
Once the effects began to show I felt greater confidence. The come up seemed long in duration and the trip had many phases. An aspect of AL-LAD is its relative brevity lasting 4-6 hours, seldom more. 1p, however, lasts a good eleven hours and trace effects linger far longer.
As we reascended the hill it was some 45 minutes since eating the blotters and a mild but decent strength of effect settled on me and stayed at this level for an hour or so. The grass shimmered and wind patterns across the field slipped from random turbulence into regular folding patterns. I tried to sit down to let the effects settle in but my dog couldn't settle so continued walking. Whilst coming up I find walking and movement prevent the mind from accepting the changes so my mission became a search to find somewhere to sit.
Peruvian shamans wait till night before imbibing their ayuashka as do most people I know who take psychedelics. I too prefer the night as darkness can allow hallucinations to develope more readily. It also provides something of a shield as one can feel quite exposed. Inexperienced trippers invariably feel that straight people must inevitably be able to tell they are off their heads. Whilst their pupils will be dilated there is often little to give you away, to the untrained eye at least. But, today, I knew the nights were drawing in so the latter part of the trip would be under the cloak of darkness, and the autumn sunshine was quite beautiful. This ultimately became one of the strongest day light trips I have ever done.
Once back in the outer suburbs I decided to make my way to the shop to buy a drink with the plan of taking it to the park to sit and let the trip settle in. I felt a bit wild eyed as the staff served me but no looks of disdain. We walked to the park, found a quiet corner, smoked a roll up and drank my can. Feeling a bit of an alien as the leaves on the trees rippled like an animals pelt. I couldn't relax so drank quickly, still in the lower stage of intensity, then made for ginnels off main routes before returning to the flat.
Here, able to relax, the trip took on a new phase. A clear step up in strength. I've had this domain before. It's like a glimpse of a plasticised future. An X factor world of synthetic fabrics and glossy plastics. A peep at fashion in ten years from now. It's not pleasant for a green outdoor hedge monkey like myself yet it's curious that this near future domain I sometimes enter, is the same each time. It's details are to a style. A hyper girls world of teen glamour, synthetic musical sounds and dayglo furs. Leading me to think it may be accurate, a real peep through the veils of time.
The room became different with a hatch leading to the bathroom. An open plan space. I informed my partner I was transcendent which she never takes well. She said it looked weak as I seemed normal. From inside it was strong and gathering strength. Fair enough, I guess. Being in another head state tends to distance people. I know how I feel when drunk freinds drop in to our sober world as they make their loud way home from the pub. But lysergics deliver a delicate, fragile and beautiful condition. I don't mind experienced trippers but hate baby sitting beginners. I'd not encourage others. It's their choice, a big choice and a very personal one. I do know, however, for me it ranks up with falling in love as a life experience. Something that opened my eyes and led to a life quite different from what it would have been without.
Leaving Dook I went on a mission into town. A mushroom trip of comparable intensity would be fraught with fear, a real adventure. But I felt confident. Whether being older I feel no sin or guilt in being in a higher state, or the relative hippy peace of South western towns compared to tripping in leeds as a youth where the potential for meeting some gang of yobs seemed ever likely in my young teens, I enjoy a trip confidence I never had in my teens. Bouncing down the cobbled street, houses bent in as my surroundings took on the plasticine quality of an ardman production. I felt euphoric, bold, hungry to taste the town in its bright and fluid state. Looking back I can't recall what my mission entailed. Perhaps I went to Argos.
Returning home I played some music. Soft St etienne and a few test songs from the new Libertines. 'Heart of the matter' stands up as does 'Gunga Din', the latter I played four times in succession and the song stuck in my head as the soundtrack for the rest of the day. An anthem to suit my euphoria and bold condition.
Back at the flat I began to feel hemmed in as a new phase of colour and more block like visuals took on a cubist period. Dook looked frisky again and I needed a charger for my iPad so we walked to Asda, somewhere between a half mile and a mile. Though still fragmentary in the visual sense we negotiated traffic and other dogs. Dogs pick up on it when you're tripping and mine, anyway, becomes protective though less concerned with his own interactions. No aggression to other dogs, just the protectiveness a dog for the blind might deliver. Asda happened swiftly, buying a couple of pastas should I need food.
We returned on the far side of the river. Here I let Dook run free and stood to let mesmeric hallucinations develope from the wind sculpting the trees and grass in patterns of a regularity and beauty. Colourwise the trip felt more akin to AL-LAD then my memories of the white light and silvery crisp 1p visuals I'd come to know. It struck me then, could this be AL-LAD so similar was it visually. The trips longevity put this idea to rest. Were it the lad I'd be passed peak and returning to base by now but the experience was in peek flow.
Back up through the town went swiftly. Once home I tried to eat. This caused me to vomit in a purge like manner more common to ayuashka. I wasn't able to keep anything down till 10pm when the trip began to fade.
Often I find a trip delivers a wish. It's as though a little magic slips through and the impossible is able to occur. Tonight was the Leeds Huddersfield, Wigan v Cas night to decide league leaders. The night was one of the greatest sporting nights I can recall. I've already written about the events but the point I wish to make was that the issue seemed sealed. Leeds were lucky to have drawn ensuring home advantage in the play offs. Wigan appeared to have snatched league leaders shield. Yet with a second to go, Danny McGuire chipped the ball over the Huddersfield defence, a move I've seen attempted in blind desperation in similar circumstances but it virtually never comes off. The hooter sounded meaning the next stop in play meant game over. Yet Ryan Hall, who up to this point had played one of his worst games of the season, found the ball in his hands and ran half the field to score a try of legend. One that will be talked of for years to come. The media, the pundits, both who hold a Wigan bias were clearly none plussed yet blown away by the majesty of the moment. A perfect end to a wonderful day.
There were no life changing insights, a recognition I must stop smoking aside, but for utter wonder at our being. Sheer awe at the fluke of existence. The trip had few to call par.
And perhaps that is as much as 1p can offer. So much of our lives we walk through grumbling at trivial concerns, blind to the beauty of the near impossibility of being born in a universe of unappreciable wonder and scale, waking each day on a beautiful blue planet of balance to support life of such magnificent, resplendent, sumptuous wonder. If all a trip does is remind us of our good fortune, then that is enough. For me that is God. The utter transcendent wonder of being. We will most likely never know the answers to the biggest questions, but for a breif window we get the gift of witnessing such beauty. This should be enough for anyone.
My imagined AL-LAD paradigm shift in consciousness seems unlikely. No doubt the government will make 1p illegal also before long. But this window has seen another generation, or a small portion of it, have life opened up as it was for mine by mushrooms and acid. We will see. The changes are bound to effect the perifery of culture. The acceptance of evolution took a century to take hold and even now some creationists still hold out. But it's a step. Another step towards a higher consciousness.
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Monday, 28 September 2015
England versus Wales rugby union
England versus Wales rugby union
As a fan of rugby league I seldom watch the other code and try keep open minded. On Saturday night I witnessed the worst game of rugby I have seen in a long time. I followed the media build up last week curious in following Sam Burgess who having changed codes has been fast tracked into the England team. The England coach had made changes to his team that beat figi the previous week. George Ford and Owen Farrell vie for the number 10 position who directs much of the play, both schooled in rugby league and both sons of rugby league players now Union coaches. The media consensus was that Farrell should not have replaced Ford following Fords display last week. In essence the union journalists, as in previous world cups, seek to somehow shift the blame for England's failure onto league. The fact the creative centre of England rugby union is due to league influence is overlooked whilst blame is apportioned in pathetic jealousy onto league. Andy Farrell, England defence coach along with Shaun Edwards, Wales defence coach have both brought a rugby league approach that has revolutionised union defence. So, I watched the game.
What followed was a dull game, by league standards, that seldom broke out in to open rugby. The line outs, scrums, mauls and rucks are aesthetically displeasing and these dominated much of the play. The goal kicking, however, was exceptional. Outstanding. Farrell selection over Ford was faultless in this department. Burgess did his job competently. He made a few big tackles. One poor kick but then he is no kicker. His selection seemed flattering to league, to suggest someone with only one or two international starts, someone who barely knows the game, warrants election over all others. Before the game the team gathered but it was not the captain Robshaw who gave the team talk, it was Burgess. His confidence, his presence, his leadership was clearly his reason for selection. He had been in far tougher games than this. When fighting broke out it was Burgess who stepped in to break it up. He's been in the battles with much more powerful men.
England were ascendant until the last twenty minutes where Wales began to take some control. Coach Stuart Lancaster made changes, took off Burgess, moved Farrell to return Ford to number 10. Basically a return to the consensus opinion on team selection the media had run with all week. The league presence, the league influence gone England went to pieces. From a game they should have won, put to bed long before, England managed to engineer defeat. During the final period of play with Wales now ahead by three points England were awarded a penalty. Given Farrells faultless kicking all night a draw seemed a certainty with a further four minutes to grasp a last moment win.
Whether it was captain Chris Robshaw who opted to kick for touch and go for the win, or George Ford, the medias favourite who kicked to touch who chose, it was the wrong option. A short line out that Wales easily contained led to England loss.
The second half had been more exciting as sport always is when an upset is on the cards but over all, take away the significance of the match, there wasn't much for a none union fan to enjoy. Had Farrell remained kicking, had Burgess remained on, the bigoted journalists could have inaccurately tried to blame league but to independent eyes, once the league pillars were removed, the union boys collapsed.
In some ways the ending echoed the fantastic game the night before in what remains the superior code. To grasp a draw Leeds took the penalty kick as England didn't, ensuring they'd drawn and qualified for a home draw in the play off semi final. But crucially, they'd left a minute, little more to engineer a move that saw McGuire chip over the defence, gathered by Ryan Hall who ran half the field to score the try that won Leeds the League Leaders Shield.
Union has many faults. Without going into the history of the establishment sport, the bigotry over the years as league players were banned from ever playing union, the union support of apartheid, the banning of rugby league in France under the nazi appeasement and the support of union by the same. Despite all this, the sport itself is flawed.
The rare moments when union breaks out into open rugby are watchable, but the game is jigged to avoid this. Much of the game is taken up with technical set plays, line outs and scrums. Once the ball is free the tendency is to kick to gain position. If another scrum or line out doesn't follow, a messy ruck developes. Once a team nears the opponents try line all attempts are made to force the penalty. From here seldom is a try attempted, instead a goal is taken. This leads to games with few tries, sometimes none. Often the team scoring the fewest tries can win by killing the game by dragging the more creative team into rucks and mauls. The laws of the game involve so many technicalities around the ruck and scrum that few know them all, even the players.
When union went professional in the nineties following a century of shamateurism and arrogance there was a fear that an exodus of players would leave league as union players can earn four times what the league cousins can. In England and France this is still the case. But few have successfully made the transition. Reactions and impulses developed as a boy are hard to break. A player in either code must react without thought in most situations, consider your play and you'll be stomped. To transfer reactions from a habit of a lifetime is very difficult. Wingers, jason Robinson for example, find the transition easier but play makers stand little chance. This works both ways. Few union players succeed in league.
One has to wonder, after the thrill of the league World Cup semi and the NRL grand final, Burgess must be bored as hell waiting for something to happen in union. Those two games that capped Burgess' league career were of a ferocity and skill standard beyond anything he will encounter in union. His move to union may bring fame, a greater public profile and riches beyond what he could have ever made in league, but as a challenge, as a test of his skill, he will never enjoy moments of the majesty he enjoyed in league.
Sent from my iPad
As a fan of rugby league I seldom watch the other code and try keep open minded. On Saturday night I witnessed the worst game of rugby I have seen in a long time. I followed the media build up last week curious in following Sam Burgess who having changed codes has been fast tracked into the England team. The England coach had made changes to his team that beat figi the previous week. George Ford and Owen Farrell vie for the number 10 position who directs much of the play, both schooled in rugby league and both sons of rugby league players now Union coaches. The media consensus was that Farrell should not have replaced Ford following Fords display last week. In essence the union journalists, as in previous world cups, seek to somehow shift the blame for England's failure onto league. The fact the creative centre of England rugby union is due to league influence is overlooked whilst blame is apportioned in pathetic jealousy onto league. Andy Farrell, England defence coach along with Shaun Edwards, Wales defence coach have both brought a rugby league approach that has revolutionised union defence. So, I watched the game.
What followed was a dull game, by league standards, that seldom broke out in to open rugby. The line outs, scrums, mauls and rucks are aesthetically displeasing and these dominated much of the play. The goal kicking, however, was exceptional. Outstanding. Farrell selection over Ford was faultless in this department. Burgess did his job competently. He made a few big tackles. One poor kick but then he is no kicker. His selection seemed flattering to league, to suggest someone with only one or two international starts, someone who barely knows the game, warrants election over all others. Before the game the team gathered but it was not the captain Robshaw who gave the team talk, it was Burgess. His confidence, his presence, his leadership was clearly his reason for selection. He had been in far tougher games than this. When fighting broke out it was Burgess who stepped in to break it up. He's been in the battles with much more powerful men.
England were ascendant until the last twenty minutes where Wales began to take some control. Coach Stuart Lancaster made changes, took off Burgess, moved Farrell to return Ford to number 10. Basically a return to the consensus opinion on team selection the media had run with all week. The league presence, the league influence gone England went to pieces. From a game they should have won, put to bed long before, England managed to engineer defeat. During the final period of play with Wales now ahead by three points England were awarded a penalty. Given Farrells faultless kicking all night a draw seemed a certainty with a further four minutes to grasp a last moment win.
Whether it was captain Chris Robshaw who opted to kick for touch and go for the win, or George Ford, the medias favourite who kicked to touch who chose, it was the wrong option. A short line out that Wales easily contained led to England loss.
The second half had been more exciting as sport always is when an upset is on the cards but over all, take away the significance of the match, there wasn't much for a none union fan to enjoy. Had Farrell remained kicking, had Burgess remained on, the bigoted journalists could have inaccurately tried to blame league but to independent eyes, once the league pillars were removed, the union boys collapsed.
In some ways the ending echoed the fantastic game the night before in what remains the superior code. To grasp a draw Leeds took the penalty kick as England didn't, ensuring they'd drawn and qualified for a home draw in the play off semi final. But crucially, they'd left a minute, little more to engineer a move that saw McGuire chip over the defence, gathered by Ryan Hall who ran half the field to score the try that won Leeds the League Leaders Shield.
Union has many faults. Without going into the history of the establishment sport, the bigotry over the years as league players were banned from ever playing union, the union support of apartheid, the banning of rugby league in France under the nazi appeasement and the support of union by the same. Despite all this, the sport itself is flawed.
The rare moments when union breaks out into open rugby are watchable, but the game is jigged to avoid this. Much of the game is taken up with technical set plays, line outs and scrums. Once the ball is free the tendency is to kick to gain position. If another scrum or line out doesn't follow, a messy ruck developes. Once a team nears the opponents try line all attempts are made to force the penalty. From here seldom is a try attempted, instead a goal is taken. This leads to games with few tries, sometimes none. Often the team scoring the fewest tries can win by killing the game by dragging the more creative team into rucks and mauls. The laws of the game involve so many technicalities around the ruck and scrum that few know them all, even the players.
When union went professional in the nineties following a century of shamateurism and arrogance there was a fear that an exodus of players would leave league as union players can earn four times what the league cousins can. In England and France this is still the case. But few have successfully made the transition. Reactions and impulses developed as a boy are hard to break. A player in either code must react without thought in most situations, consider your play and you'll be stomped. To transfer reactions from a habit of a lifetime is very difficult. Wingers, jason Robinson for example, find the transition easier but play makers stand little chance. This works both ways. Few union players succeed in league.
One has to wonder, after the thrill of the league World Cup semi and the NRL grand final, Burgess must be bored as hell waiting for something to happen in union. Those two games that capped Burgess' league career were of a ferocity and skill standard beyond anything he will encounter in union. His move to union may bring fame, a greater public profile and riches beyond what he could have ever made in league, but as a challenge, as a test of his skill, he will never enjoy moments of the majesty he enjoyed in league.
Sent from my iPad
Sunday, 27 September 2015
Leeds win League Leaders Shield in final second of
Leeds win League Leaders Shield in final second of thrilling match
Since winning the Challenge Cup Final Leeds form had dropped off. Three consecutive defeats followed. Having been clear leaders throughout the season the dream of winning league leaders shield seemed to be fading. On Thursday four teams were able to finish top but only Leeds weren't dependent on other teams losing. Leeds still led the table on 39 points. Wigan were on 39 but with a lower points scored tally. Huddersfield and saints were on 38. Warrington whose season was effectively over had nothing to lose and threw all they had at saints putting them out of contention. By Friday night two games remained to be played simultaneously, Wigan at home to Castleford and Huddersfield entertained Leeds. Should Leeds lose and Wigan win Wigan would claim the shield. Should Huddersfield win and Wigan lose Huddersfield would claim the shield. If Leeds won they would claim the shield. As night fell and tension built a helicopter flew above Huddersfield ready to depart with the shield for Wigan should things go their way. They very nearly did. Huddersfield, unlike Leeds, were in fine form going in to the game on the back of five consecutive wins. All pundits were backing Wigan. All commentary teams thought it beyond Leeds. The bias against Leeds is a strong one.
Wigan started well against Cas going two converted tries up. Cas replied with two converted tries nod a penalty to bring the score to 12 14. Soon Wigan took control and ran in a further 27 points. The fans there were listening to reports from Huddersfield where Leeds were losing to a strong Huddersfield. Both defences played brilliantly though it looked like Huddersfield were to be victorious until Leeds were awarded a late penalty. Sinfield opted to kick. This would give leeds a draw meaning they would finish second in the table but retain home advantage in the play offs. The dreamed treble would be off but the Grand Final would still be more attainable. After the kick only a minute or so was left to play. Leeds through the ball about and in the final second Ryan Hall found himself in space down the left wing. He charged over to score the try to bring leeds first league leaders shield for a while. Wigan fans left their stadia broken hearted. Leeds remain on for the treble. Perhaps the most exciting moment of the season so far. I was in tears.
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Since winning the Challenge Cup Final Leeds form had dropped off. Three consecutive defeats followed. Having been clear leaders throughout the season the dream of winning league leaders shield seemed to be fading. On Thursday four teams were able to finish top but only Leeds weren't dependent on other teams losing. Leeds still led the table on 39 points. Wigan were on 39 but with a lower points scored tally. Huddersfield and saints were on 38. Warrington whose season was effectively over had nothing to lose and threw all they had at saints putting them out of contention. By Friday night two games remained to be played simultaneously, Wigan at home to Castleford and Huddersfield entertained Leeds. Should Leeds lose and Wigan win Wigan would claim the shield. Should Huddersfield win and Wigan lose Huddersfield would claim the shield. If Leeds won they would claim the shield. As night fell and tension built a helicopter flew above Huddersfield ready to depart with the shield for Wigan should things go their way. They very nearly did. Huddersfield, unlike Leeds, were in fine form going in to the game on the back of five consecutive wins. All pundits were backing Wigan. All commentary teams thought it beyond Leeds. The bias against Leeds is a strong one.
Wigan started well against Cas going two converted tries up. Cas replied with two converted tries nod a penalty to bring the score to 12 14. Soon Wigan took control and ran in a further 27 points. The fans there were listening to reports from Huddersfield where Leeds were losing to a strong Huddersfield. Both defences played brilliantly though it looked like Huddersfield were to be victorious until Leeds were awarded a late penalty. Sinfield opted to kick. This would give leeds a draw meaning they would finish second in the table but retain home advantage in the play offs. The dreamed treble would be off but the Grand Final would still be more attainable. After the kick only a minute or so was left to play. Leeds through the ball about and in the final second Ryan Hall found himself in space down the left wing. He charged over to score the try to bring leeds first league leaders shield for a while. Wigan fans left their stadia broken hearted. Leeds remain on for the treble. Perhaps the most exciting moment of the season so far. I was in tears.
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Wednesday, 23 September 2015
Fwd: Congratulations, your video is now on YouTube!
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: YouTube <noreply@youtube.com>
Date: Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Subject: Congratulations, your video is now on YouTube!
To: michael wainwright <skreeworld@gmail.com>
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Tuesday, 22 September 2015
Monday, 21 September 2015
League Leaders Title back in Leeds Hands
League Leaders Title back in Leeds Hands
Twenty four hours is a long time in super eights rugby league. Castleford beat top of the table Leeds in a close game that Leeds never got on top of. Aitons injury is proving difficult to re juggle for. With burrow and sutcliffe both injured, seeing Sinfield leave the field meant Leeds were without a tested hooker or dummy half, a position they tend to roll from Sinfield, Aiton to burrow who all offer significantly different options. This third loss left Leeds top of the table on points difference with Wigan having a game in hand to overhaul the seasons dominant team.
Castle fords win over Leeds deserves great credit. With nothing to play for bar the beating of their most arrogant rivals, Cas beat Leeds though Leeds never got to grips with the game for long periods. This is always Castlefords cup final. The win inspired bold statements from Wigan Coach Shaun Wane. What a game we had last night.
Wigan were ahead for most of the first half but the St. Helens defence had stood strong for four consecutive sets of six without folding. It was this as much as the equalising try that sent the teams in at half time with six a piece. Just as with the Leeds Cas game, two wrong refereeing decisions went against saints. A disallowed perfectly good try chalked off and a Wigan try that shouldn't have been. A pass ruled wrongly forward. We're saints to lose as it looked like as the game progressed it would have been a difficult exit for the red from langtree park. With Wigan leading 14 12 in to the dieing moments it was clear Saints had but one set left to score from. A kick from the mighty jon Wilkin led to a saints try.
This heroic saints win took the points tally to Leeds on 39 with a greater points scored difference than Wigan also on 39. Huddersfield who are quietly finding form at just the right time with an away win at hull on 38 as are saints. Any of these teams could win league leaders shield, finish top two meaning home advantage in the play off semis. Leeds, however, know that if they win away at Huddersfield next week it matters not what anyone else does. On the back of three losses after cup glory, rising to defeat Huss away is a tough call. If Sinfield isn't recovered only McGuire can stand up as experienced play maker. But Leeds are a champion side. It is in their hands again thanks to saints heroics last night.
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Twenty four hours is a long time in super eights rugby league. Castleford beat top of the table Leeds in a close game that Leeds never got on top of. Aitons injury is proving difficult to re juggle for. With burrow and sutcliffe both injured, seeing Sinfield leave the field meant Leeds were without a tested hooker or dummy half, a position they tend to roll from Sinfield, Aiton to burrow who all offer significantly different options. This third loss left Leeds top of the table on points difference with Wigan having a game in hand to overhaul the seasons dominant team.
Castle fords win over Leeds deserves great credit. With nothing to play for bar the beating of their most arrogant rivals, Cas beat Leeds though Leeds never got to grips with the game for long periods. This is always Castlefords cup final. The win inspired bold statements from Wigan Coach Shaun Wane. What a game we had last night.
Wigan were ahead for most of the first half but the St. Helens defence had stood strong for four consecutive sets of six without folding. It was this as much as the equalising try that sent the teams in at half time with six a piece. Just as with the Leeds Cas game, two wrong refereeing decisions went against saints. A disallowed perfectly good try chalked off and a Wigan try that shouldn't have been. A pass ruled wrongly forward. We're saints to lose as it looked like as the game progressed it would have been a difficult exit for the red from langtree park. With Wigan leading 14 12 in to the dieing moments it was clear Saints had but one set left to score from. A kick from the mighty jon Wilkin led to a saints try.
This heroic saints win took the points tally to Leeds on 39 with a greater points scored difference than Wigan also on 39. Huddersfield who are quietly finding form at just the right time with an away win at hull on 38 as are saints. Any of these teams could win league leaders shield, finish top two meaning home advantage in the play off semis. Leeds, however, know that if they win away at Huddersfield next week it matters not what anyone else does. On the back of three losses after cup glory, rising to defeat Huss away is a tough call. If Sinfield isn't recovered only McGuire can stand up as experienced play maker. But Leeds are a champion side. It is in their hands again thanks to saints heroics last night.
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Sunday, 20 September 2015
Friday, 18 September 2015
The Fault Line: Why Blameworthiness is the Wrong Q
The Fault Line: Why Blameworthiness is the Wrong Question
Consider a common scenario that plays out in courtrooms around the world: A man commits a criminal act; the legal team detects no obvious neurological problem; the man is jailed or sentenced to death. But something is different about the mans neurobiology. The underlying cause could be genetic mutation, a bit of brain damage caused by an undetectably small tumour or stroke, an imbalance in neurotransmitter levels, a hormonal imbalance - or any combination. Any or all of these abnormalities may be undetectable by contemporary technologies. But they can lead to abnormalities in behaviour.
An approach from the biological viewpoint does not mean that the criminal will be exsculpated; it merely underscores the idea that his actions are not divorced from the machinery of his brain. We don't blame the sudden paedophile for his detectable tumour just as we don't blame the frontotemporal shoplifter for the degeneration of his frontal cortex. In other words if there is a measure able brain problem, that buys leniency for the defendent. He's not really to blame.
But we do blame someone if we lack the technology to detect a biological problem. And this gets us to the heart of the argument: that Blameworthiness is the wrong question to ask.
Imagine a spectrum of culpability. On one end of the scale we have the patient with frontotemporal dementia who exposes himself to school children. In the eyes of the judge and jury, these are people who suffered brain damage at the hands of fate and did not choose their neural situation. On the blameworthy side of the fault line is the common criminal whose brain receives little study and about whom our current technology can say very little anyway. The overwhelming majority of criminals are on this side of the line, because they have no obvious biological problem. They are thought to be acting with free will. Drug addicts are generally viewed near the middle of the spectrum: while there is some understanding that addiction is a biological issue and that drugs rewire the brain, it is also the case that addicts are often interpreted as responsible for taking the first hit.
The spectrum captures the common intuition that juries seem to have about Blameworthiness. But there is a deep problem with this. Technology will continue to improve, and as we grow better at recognising problems in the brain, the fault line will drift towards the not blameworthy side - that is into the territory of those who currently hold full accountability. Problems that are now opaque will open up to examination through new technologies, and we will find certain types of bad behaviour will have a meaningful biological explanation. As has happened with schizophrenia, epilepsy, depression and mania. Currently we can only detect large brain tumours but in a hundred years time we will be able to detect defects at currently unimaginably small a scale of microcircuitry that correlate with behavioural problems.
Besides all this, if we can't blame a man for a large tumour that causes him to commit a crime, how can we blame a man for any condition of brain? It is crucial we break free from the primacy of consiousness. It is a blind alley. It is likely hood of recidivism that ought to dictate punishment. Punishment is in fact the wrong term. It is as stupid as punishing a man for the colour of his skin.
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Consider a common scenario that plays out in courtrooms around the world: A man commits a criminal act; the legal team detects no obvious neurological problem; the man is jailed or sentenced to death. But something is different about the mans neurobiology. The underlying cause could be genetic mutation, a bit of brain damage caused by an undetectably small tumour or stroke, an imbalance in neurotransmitter levels, a hormonal imbalance - or any combination. Any or all of these abnormalities may be undetectable by contemporary technologies. But they can lead to abnormalities in behaviour.
An approach from the biological viewpoint does not mean that the criminal will be exsculpated; it merely underscores the idea that his actions are not divorced from the machinery of his brain. We don't blame the sudden paedophile for his detectable tumour just as we don't blame the frontotemporal shoplifter for the degeneration of his frontal cortex. In other words if there is a measure able brain problem, that buys leniency for the defendent. He's not really to blame.
But we do blame someone if we lack the technology to detect a biological problem. And this gets us to the heart of the argument: that Blameworthiness is the wrong question to ask.
Imagine a spectrum of culpability. On one end of the scale we have the patient with frontotemporal dementia who exposes himself to school children. In the eyes of the judge and jury, these are people who suffered brain damage at the hands of fate and did not choose their neural situation. On the blameworthy side of the fault line is the common criminal whose brain receives little study and about whom our current technology can say very little anyway. The overwhelming majority of criminals are on this side of the line, because they have no obvious biological problem. They are thought to be acting with free will. Drug addicts are generally viewed near the middle of the spectrum: while there is some understanding that addiction is a biological issue and that drugs rewire the brain, it is also the case that addicts are often interpreted as responsible for taking the first hit.
The spectrum captures the common intuition that juries seem to have about Blameworthiness. But there is a deep problem with this. Technology will continue to improve, and as we grow better at recognising problems in the brain, the fault line will drift towards the not blameworthy side - that is into the territory of those who currently hold full accountability. Problems that are now opaque will open up to examination through new technologies, and we will find certain types of bad behaviour will have a meaningful biological explanation. As has happened with schizophrenia, epilepsy, depression and mania. Currently we can only detect large brain tumours but in a hundred years time we will be able to detect defects at currently unimaginably small a scale of microcircuitry that correlate with behavioural problems.
Besides all this, if we can't blame a man for a large tumour that causes him to commit a crime, how can we blame a man for any condition of brain? It is crucial we break free from the primacy of consiousness. It is a blind alley. It is likely hood of recidivism that ought to dictate punishment. Punishment is in fact the wrong term. It is as stupid as punishing a man for the colour of his skin.
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Leeds Post Cup Collapse
Leeds Post Cup Collapse
Following Leeds perfect performance at Wembley Leeds have gone to pieces. Playing St Helens the Friday after the cup final was a big ask and an understandable loss. Saving their worst performance for the always tricky journey to Perpignan for the Catalan Dragons was embarrassing but just two teams have won there all season and tonight Leeds lost to Castleford. A good try disallowed for Leeds and a definite no try for Cas alongside Sinfield going off injured shortly after half time. Having lost Paul Aiton has been a massive blow, Burrow out too cut our options. One injury away from capitulation. Should Sinfields dead leg prove a longer term injury I can't see a grand final appearance. But now league leaders shield is out of our hands. Should Saints beat Wigan tomorrow and Leeds win away at Huddersfield it is possible. We are guaranteed to be in the semis. We may not get the dreamed of treble. But league leaders is the smallest of the three and should Leeds make the Grand Final I wouldn't back against them. Previous seasons saw Leeds cup final failures inspire grand final wins. Now two time consecutive cup winners we see it from the other side. To regather after such emotion to grind on is a tough call. Every team has a poor period during a season. Leeds had managed to ensure they got their poor performances out of the way early in the season so as to hit the play offs at peak form. As such they managed something previously regarded as impossible, to win the title from fifth. This season with the new system of splitting in to the three eights so soon after the cup final will require some serious turn around if Leeds are to win another trophy. There is also the untimely friendly against the kiwis to muddle things. Still, three straight wins is not beyond Leeds. A saints win against Wigan tonight would be a gift from God.
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Following Leeds perfect performance at Wembley Leeds have gone to pieces. Playing St Helens the Friday after the cup final was a big ask and an understandable loss. Saving their worst performance for the always tricky journey to Perpignan for the Catalan Dragons was embarrassing but just two teams have won there all season and tonight Leeds lost to Castleford. A good try disallowed for Leeds and a definite no try for Cas alongside Sinfield going off injured shortly after half time. Having lost Paul Aiton has been a massive blow, Burrow out too cut our options. One injury away from capitulation. Should Sinfields dead leg prove a longer term injury I can't see a grand final appearance. But now league leaders shield is out of our hands. Should Saints beat Wigan tomorrow and Leeds win away at Huddersfield it is possible. We are guaranteed to be in the semis. We may not get the dreamed of treble. But league leaders is the smallest of the three and should Leeds make the Grand Final I wouldn't back against them. Previous seasons saw Leeds cup final failures inspire grand final wins. Now two time consecutive cup winners we see it from the other side. To regather after such emotion to grind on is a tough call. Every team has a poor period during a season. Leeds had managed to ensure they got their poor performances out of the way early in the season so as to hit the play offs at peak form. As such they managed something previously regarded as impossible, to win the title from fifth. This season with the new system of splitting in to the three eights so soon after the cup final will require some serious turn around if Leeds are to win another trophy. There is also the untimely friendly against the kiwis to muddle things. Still, three straight wins is not beyond Leeds. A saints win against Wigan tonight would be a gift from God.
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A Tear in the Materialist Fabric
A Tear in the Materialist Fabric
The most difficult aspects of the materialist stance I have found lay in what we regard as the self. I have written before of how the notion of a soul, able to transcend the death of the body may, on swift consideration, appear uplifting, reassuring and positive. Further, deeper thought reveals that an eternal soul would render life less valuable; a phase we pass through, like puberty yet, when life's brevity is held up to eternity it becomes minuscule. It is no coincidence that once the spread of atheist philosophy grew, a higher value became attributed to life. This transference of the unit of currency from souls to lives was culturally the key step to greater peace. The concept of what constitutes a self is ever changing and varies from person to person, but, on the whole understandings of neuroscience having failed to locate a soul, has delivered a soul free consensus amongst the scientific community. Still religious people out number rationalists globally but at the fore front of western thinking the super natural is increasingly seen as superstitious. Religion often is passed down from parents. Whilst traditionally we may refer to a Muslim child or a Christian child or indeed an atheist child, below a certain age it would be ridiculous to attribute these beliefs to the child. Without wishing to cause offence, circumcision for religious purposes can be seen as barbaric. To see a new born baby in all its purity and innocence and to find ones first impulse is to mutilate its genitals, with no knowledge of Jewish cultural history, is tricky to construct a supportive argument for. At what age a human becomes sufficiently aware to develope a theory of existence will vary, but it's hard to think any under five could possibly have developed such sophisticated reason. So it is easy to see why many see the imposition of super natural beliefs on a child as a form of abuse. The fear of eternal damnation and hell fire frequently lingers in rational adults who were brought up in a strictly religious environment. An intuitive faith in the transcendence of the soul, life after death, may be hidden in secular company but early learning can be virtually impossible to erase however rational the adult becomes. Despite evidence of seeing a lifeless corpse, never meeting a dead soul, brain damage causing the alteration in the person, Alzheimer's, all evidence science has found so far suggests that consciousness is an emergent property of the brain and central nervous system. Despite this, there has also been no serious idea of how meat could think. How an awareness can arise from matter. Pet and fmri scanners have revealed shifting processes that are neural correlates to thoughts taking place. Many people believe the mystery of consciousness will always remain a mystery. An interesting shift in a handful of scientific thinkers opinion has taken place in recent years. That rather than consciousness being emergent from matter, the supposition of consensus, the opposite may be the case. It can be argued that the only thing we know for certain is that we are conscious. Foundation stones from which we have built our reality beliefs such as time and space are proving to be far more slippery than we once thought. They are not solid as we perceive them to be but flexible, our perception of them is but a functional process of dealing with and negotiating existence. It is through consciousness that we must know anything. So instead of regarding the pillars of physics that support our reality, perhaps we should be looking the other way. That matter, the universe, us, are only existent because of consiousness. Quantum physics has shown, at molecular level, matter can be dependent on a consious viewer. The famous double slit experiment that has been replicated many times shows that a potential doesn't become particle or wave until someone or something looks at it. Accepting this would be our greatest conceptual leap as a species so far. It would be a paradigm shift bigger in significance than the shift from creationism to Darwinian evolution. I can imagine either being right. I have written about both. To progress further I should back one horse or the other. To establish ones belief with any conviction, one must apply tests, thought experiments. Though I have had debates with people who think otherwise, I still don't think we can believe things just because we choose to. I would like to believe in a heaven waiting for me for example. It isn't by choice I believe what I believe. I am certain life would be far easier were God real for me. I am in truth, not jealous but glad for freinds of faith. Such security must be a wonderful reassurance. An opiate beyond all medicine. From my own perspective I often wonder how deep others faith is. If one was certain of a heavenly afterlife it would eliminate fear of death. I am sure most suicide bombers must have faith to be able to carry out their acts. And it is this test I apply to my own beliefs. To add to Ockhams Razor I use the Clifton Suspension Bridge test. To measure whether I believe something I ask, would I trust my life on it. If not, then I can't claim to truly believe. I suspect that should I step from Brunels masterwork I would plunge to my death however I may find wings burst out of my back with which I catch the air and rise from gravities straight line downward in a graceful parabola settling in to a kestrel like hover, surveying the estuary to the Bristol Channel before sailing above the clouds as I made my way home. We may hover in suspended indecision on moral questions but our most fundamental principles of reality rarely trigger, if we are to be honest to ourselves, such agnosis. These pillars go beyond speculation. They are rooted solidly in our subconscious. From these pillars we react. These are our survival pillars that require a solidity for our animal reactivity to work from. When the tiger pounces we have no time to think. Our days are full of movements, decisions, actions that we have no time to consider. These beliefs, I believe, override the deepest religious faith. Despite our reason or desire wishing ourselves to be non sexist, non racist, in split second reaction tests it is common to find we don't believe what we claim to. There are things we would like to be but aren't.
Few these days despute the reality of transsexuality. Even thinkers regarding themselves as devout in their disbelief in dualism may find this disrupts their conviction. Descartes myth of the ghost in the machine, the idea of a mind that pilots the vehicle of the body, has been abandoned by most contemporary philosophers. The idea of a homunculus, a little man inside our heads holds little interest for thinkers today. Yet only through dualism, only through a seperate mind or soul could certain concepts find footing. To be a man born in a woman's body surely requires dualism. It takes considerable psychological evaluation to be accepted for a sex change operation yet, in contemporary modern medicine it is presumably considered fact that one can be of a different gender to ones body. I have not researched whether the more intuitive psychiatric treatment to realign the mind with the reality of the body is practiced greatly. Certainly the media isn't attracted to it if so. There exists an anomaly. And how far does the anomaly stretch? A man believing he is a dolphin born in a mans body, however deep his conviction, would be subjected to psychiatric treatment to realign his mind with his human body. Doctors would not inject him with dolphin hormones, cut his arms to approximate fins, insert tail implants. I have no moral stance on this, no ethical position. But it seems to me we are having our cake and eating it. Maybe here is an example of an early step in the paradigm shift to position consiousness ahead of matter. For much of the twentieth century homosexuality was not simply regarded as mental illness but deemed criminal. Now it is a rare person who doesn't believe a person can be born in the wrong body. How can we sustain the singular, non dualist stance alongside this?
Sent from my iPad
The most difficult aspects of the materialist stance I have found lay in what we regard as the self. I have written before of how the notion of a soul, able to transcend the death of the body may, on swift consideration, appear uplifting, reassuring and positive. Further, deeper thought reveals that an eternal soul would render life less valuable; a phase we pass through, like puberty yet, when life's brevity is held up to eternity it becomes minuscule. It is no coincidence that once the spread of atheist philosophy grew, a higher value became attributed to life. This transference of the unit of currency from souls to lives was culturally the key step to greater peace. The concept of what constitutes a self is ever changing and varies from person to person, but, on the whole understandings of neuroscience having failed to locate a soul, has delivered a soul free consensus amongst the scientific community. Still religious people out number rationalists globally but at the fore front of western thinking the super natural is increasingly seen as superstitious. Religion often is passed down from parents. Whilst traditionally we may refer to a Muslim child or a Christian child or indeed an atheist child, below a certain age it would be ridiculous to attribute these beliefs to the child. Without wishing to cause offence, circumcision for religious purposes can be seen as barbaric. To see a new born baby in all its purity and innocence and to find ones first impulse is to mutilate its genitals, with no knowledge of Jewish cultural history, is tricky to construct a supportive argument for. At what age a human becomes sufficiently aware to develope a theory of existence will vary, but it's hard to think any under five could possibly have developed such sophisticated reason. So it is easy to see why many see the imposition of super natural beliefs on a child as a form of abuse. The fear of eternal damnation and hell fire frequently lingers in rational adults who were brought up in a strictly religious environment. An intuitive faith in the transcendence of the soul, life after death, may be hidden in secular company but early learning can be virtually impossible to erase however rational the adult becomes. Despite evidence of seeing a lifeless corpse, never meeting a dead soul, brain damage causing the alteration in the person, Alzheimer's, all evidence science has found so far suggests that consciousness is an emergent property of the brain and central nervous system. Despite this, there has also been no serious idea of how meat could think. How an awareness can arise from matter. Pet and fmri scanners have revealed shifting processes that are neural correlates to thoughts taking place. Many people believe the mystery of consciousness will always remain a mystery. An interesting shift in a handful of scientific thinkers opinion has taken place in recent years. That rather than consciousness being emergent from matter, the supposition of consensus, the opposite may be the case. It can be argued that the only thing we know for certain is that we are conscious. Foundation stones from which we have built our reality beliefs such as time and space are proving to be far more slippery than we once thought. They are not solid as we perceive them to be but flexible, our perception of them is but a functional process of dealing with and negotiating existence. It is through consciousness that we must know anything. So instead of regarding the pillars of physics that support our reality, perhaps we should be looking the other way. That matter, the universe, us, are only existent because of consiousness. Quantum physics has shown, at molecular level, matter can be dependent on a consious viewer. The famous double slit experiment that has been replicated many times shows that a potential doesn't become particle or wave until someone or something looks at it. Accepting this would be our greatest conceptual leap as a species so far. It would be a paradigm shift bigger in significance than the shift from creationism to Darwinian evolution. I can imagine either being right. I have written about both. To progress further I should back one horse or the other. To establish ones belief with any conviction, one must apply tests, thought experiments. Though I have had debates with people who think otherwise, I still don't think we can believe things just because we choose to. I would like to believe in a heaven waiting for me for example. It isn't by choice I believe what I believe. I am certain life would be far easier were God real for me. I am in truth, not jealous but glad for freinds of faith. Such security must be a wonderful reassurance. An opiate beyond all medicine. From my own perspective I often wonder how deep others faith is. If one was certain of a heavenly afterlife it would eliminate fear of death. I am sure most suicide bombers must have faith to be able to carry out their acts. And it is this test I apply to my own beliefs. To add to Ockhams Razor I use the Clifton Suspension Bridge test. To measure whether I believe something I ask, would I trust my life on it. If not, then I can't claim to truly believe. I suspect that should I step from Brunels masterwork I would plunge to my death however I may find wings burst out of my back with which I catch the air and rise from gravities straight line downward in a graceful parabola settling in to a kestrel like hover, surveying the estuary to the Bristol Channel before sailing above the clouds as I made my way home. We may hover in suspended indecision on moral questions but our most fundamental principles of reality rarely trigger, if we are to be honest to ourselves, such agnosis. These pillars go beyond speculation. They are rooted solidly in our subconscious. From these pillars we react. These are our survival pillars that require a solidity for our animal reactivity to work from. When the tiger pounces we have no time to think. Our days are full of movements, decisions, actions that we have no time to consider. These beliefs, I believe, override the deepest religious faith. Despite our reason or desire wishing ourselves to be non sexist, non racist, in split second reaction tests it is common to find we don't believe what we claim to. There are things we would like to be but aren't.
Few these days despute the reality of transsexuality. Even thinkers regarding themselves as devout in their disbelief in dualism may find this disrupts their conviction. Descartes myth of the ghost in the machine, the idea of a mind that pilots the vehicle of the body, has been abandoned by most contemporary philosophers. The idea of a homunculus, a little man inside our heads holds little interest for thinkers today. Yet only through dualism, only through a seperate mind or soul could certain concepts find footing. To be a man born in a woman's body surely requires dualism. It takes considerable psychological evaluation to be accepted for a sex change operation yet, in contemporary modern medicine it is presumably considered fact that one can be of a different gender to ones body. I have not researched whether the more intuitive psychiatric treatment to realign the mind with the reality of the body is practiced greatly. Certainly the media isn't attracted to it if so. There exists an anomaly. And how far does the anomaly stretch? A man believing he is a dolphin born in a mans body, however deep his conviction, would be subjected to psychiatric treatment to realign his mind with his human body. Doctors would not inject him with dolphin hormones, cut his arms to approximate fins, insert tail implants. I have no moral stance on this, no ethical position. But it seems to me we are having our cake and eating it. Maybe here is an example of an early step in the paradigm shift to position consiousness ahead of matter. For much of the twentieth century homosexuality was not simply regarded as mental illness but deemed criminal. Now it is a rare person who doesn't believe a person can be born in the wrong body. How can we sustain the singular, non dualist stance alongside this?
Sent from my iPad
Diabetes is a fact few argue the existence of. Som
Diabetes is a fact few argue the existence of. Some people are born with unstable blood sugar regulation. Some have low blood sugar and require daily injections of insulin to stabilise themselves. Depression is proving complicated. There are, however, a category of clinical depressions which show a neural correlate of low serotonin. These depressions can be stabilised with selective serotonin re uptake inhibitors. It is now recognised that alcoholics, or those prone to alcoholism, have low levels of specific blood sugars. Most people appear to be able to drink alcohol socially without risking dependence. Others, those unfortunate to be born with this instability in body chemistry, fall so easily in to alcoholism as a degree of correction is taking place. Their enjoyment of drinking is far greater than an individual with regular blood sugar levels. This temporary resolution to their condition can have disastrous consequences. Alcohol is highly poisonous and can destroy the liver. More frustrating still is the variability between different peoples metabolisms. Some can drink fairly heavily yet incur little damage, the same volume can kill another. Anyone can become physiologically dependent to opiates. There is a spectrum of endorphin levels throughout people. Some are born, much like diabetics, in the unfortunate position of having low levels of the natural pleasure giving and pain relieving neurotransmitters that dictate who we are. People vary biologically from happy, out going life lovers right through to those who find life anything from a daily struggle to a few who live through torture and terror. We are not born equal. Some will never achieve much in life, just surviving takes every bit of strength they possess. This is purely fortune of birth. For some, a taste of opiates reveals what life is like for everyone else. These few invariably become addicted if they come across opiates. From a hundred wounded soldiers, treated with morphine, 95 will recover from their injuries and the gradual reduction in pain killers returning to normal. 5 however, will find themselves normalised by the opiate pain relief. These, unless disciplined to endure their lower endorphin existence, pursue opiates. Some will become addicted to medication provided by doctors or chemists, others become heroin addicts. So, predisposition on a biological level is the predominant factor in who becomes a heroin addict.
Alongside physiological dependence runs addiction. Addiction is a psychological condition. We hear the term 'addictive personality' bandied about and there are some who can become addicted to anything from washing their hands, chocolate, masturbating to drugs. This minority must constantly monitor their behaviour as virtually anything can take a hold. Some addictions such as exersize, running, cycling can be harmless, even beneficial. Much like obsessive compulsive disorder, addiction can lead to success in any walk of life from business to sport to art. Other people can not compete with such commitment. Many addicts find it possible to switch addictions. The negative habit of taking drugs can be replaced by habitual study, habitual exersize indeed any activity that is positive for the individual and others. We are all addicts to one behaviour or another. Clearly some positive natural survival trait is the seed from which negative habitual behaviour grows. The ability to repeat an activity without thought is necessary to lead a normal life. Brushing ones teeth, getting up for work despite the weather, exersize got beyond pleasure and into pain, the point where muscle starts to build all become tiresome without the mindless auto pilot that is addiction.
Thirdly, and perhaps most problematic is that some people enjoy different sensations and head states. Where as most enjoy the security of a stable mind, a predictable nature, others are born unpredictable and enjoy the unpredictability. Just like enjoying a wide variety of food or weather, from blazing hot sunshine to violent storms, some enjoy the variety of possibilities drugs can deliver. Opiates mimic the pleasure one might feel from a long hike or work out. The sensation is not an alien one .
Sent from my iPad
Alongside physiological dependence runs addiction. Addiction is a psychological condition. We hear the term 'addictive personality' bandied about and there are some who can become addicted to anything from washing their hands, chocolate, masturbating to drugs. This minority must constantly monitor their behaviour as virtually anything can take a hold. Some addictions such as exersize, running, cycling can be harmless, even beneficial. Much like obsessive compulsive disorder, addiction can lead to success in any walk of life from business to sport to art. Other people can not compete with such commitment. Many addicts find it possible to switch addictions. The negative habit of taking drugs can be replaced by habitual study, habitual exersize indeed any activity that is positive for the individual and others. We are all addicts to one behaviour or another. Clearly some positive natural survival trait is the seed from which negative habitual behaviour grows. The ability to repeat an activity without thought is necessary to lead a normal life. Brushing ones teeth, getting up for work despite the weather, exersize got beyond pleasure and into pain, the point where muscle starts to build all become tiresome without the mindless auto pilot that is addiction.
Thirdly, and perhaps most problematic is that some people enjoy different sensations and head states. Where as most enjoy the security of a stable mind, a predictable nature, others are born unpredictable and enjoy the unpredictability. Just like enjoying a wide variety of food or weather, from blazing hot sunshine to violent storms, some enjoy the variety of possibilities drugs can deliver. Opiates mimic the pleasure one might feel from a long hike or work out. The sensation is not an alien one .
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, 9 September 2015
First over Fifty Moment
First over Fifty Moment
I rose at dawn, Dook always wakes me at first light. He has come a long way since we got him. He doesn't snap, bite or attack anyone unless provoked as he was want to do when we first got him. I know of several freinds who have had their dogs stolen whilst tied up outside shops. John, a street person and rough sleeper in Frome I know has spent six months distraught after losing his best freind whilst shopping in asda. So I'm not altogether unhappy that, when tied up outside shops, Dook will bite any pervert who tries to touch him. Since I was five I have known not to approach tied up dogs if you don't know them. They are trapped. They feel scared and when some stranger comes up are prone to try defend themselves. This can lead to a dogs death as the dog can be considered dangerous and euthanised regardless of situation or provocation, a dog must never bite a human. Such is the law. Perhaps this is the only realistic system.
In fact, I also add, don't approach strange dogs unless the owner says you will be safe. 'Is he friendly.', the knowledgable will always ask before touching another's dog.
This morning I tied him outside the paper shop. Some knobhead came in looking emasculated asking if the dog outside was mine. I said he was. He said the dog had nearly bitten him. I said the only time I have known him to bite anyone is if they don't know him and try to touch him. He admitted that he had made to touch Dook, this then said he would have punched me in the face if he had been bitten.
My immediate reaction was to wait outside the shop and batter the lad. I've never taken well to threats and don't like strangers trying to touch my dog. A score of situations from my past flashed through my life where similar threats have resulted in me leaving the threatener lieing spark out on the floor, curled up in a ball apologising or re threatening that once they've got their gang/ dad/ big brother how they are going to find me and ....A score too with me on the floor.
Yet I remembered the last time a similar situation had arisen. I was walking out in my own area when a young lad came round the corner in a car without indicating. I'd seen his approach but as he had not indicated assumed he was to head straight across the roundabout. But he turned, clipped me. I lost my temper and shouted at him through his window. I kicked the side of his car denting the metal. This caused him to leave his car running, to attack me. A full blown fight ensued with both of us on the ground at times. I was aware a few years back I could have knocked him out but he was half my age. Neither of us got the better of each other. A crowd was gathering. Unsure of how the police would take it, and no doubt their unhelpful presence would manifest before too long, I decided to walk away. Weirdly he followed, abandoning his still running car and followed me. The shock of not winning, something I hadn't often had before, not since boxing anyway, was distressing. I knew then my fighting days were over.
This is hard for a man. Perhaps a parallel to the female menopause. That look in the supermarket from a handsome carpenter, the fourth something blushes before realising the look is for her twenty year old daughter. The baton has been passed, silently and despite the mothers approval.
Our days as a champion are done. I had always enjoyed fighting and of course had lost a few. But the few had always had mitigating factors. I'd been stoned or drunk. I'd taken on some skilled fighter. Such runs a mans arrogance. He will find a narrative to support his heroism, despite contrary evidence. But to be unable to equal a normal twenty year old felt demeaning. The beginning of the downward spiral in to the grave.
So today I left it. I hung around, part of me wanted to defend my honour. To defend Dooks honour. The young lad, twenty odd, must have felt emasculated after Dook scared him but there was nothing to be gained by fighting the knobhead. Yes, it can be regarded as ones duty to twat knobheads, the world is full of too many. Still, better to start the day the bigger man. Better to walk away than suffer the ignominy of street defeat to a young boy, stupid cock weasel though he may be.
My last ayuashka experience had run through lost memories. Since my mothers death I had always been fighting. Why and who I don't know. Yet each day has been a battle. To never give in. Never surrender. To die in action.
Perhaps the ayuashka was merely telling me my age. That I could put down my guns now. I thought back to Peters party in Cornwall. He was drunkenly looking for trouble. He was spoiling for a fight. Over any tribal crap he could find. Waking up naked and bloody on the road, perhaps he had found it.
I don't need to fight anymore. That part of my life is over. I have been sufficiently upwardly mobile to escape a world where you fight or get beaten. No more could I care about being successful in business. My successes now are all regarding myself. I, and only I, know when my work is successful on the artistic side. Ironically I seldom felt inadequate on that front. I may have questioned my physical inability to overcome another man in combat. I may have questioned the ill fortune I was dealt in terms of launching out in to what I wanted to do. Choosing fine furniture designer making, ironically a field of practice no longer in the hands of what were often referred to as the artisan class. The hand working class. Now, to a man or woman, it has become the occupation of the middle class. The artisan class has changed meaning. It's members now come from parts of society where economic viability is of less consequence. Most makers find work through family, family freinds, community tribal freinds and acquaintances. Until their business is established, for the foundation two years, most fine craft furniture businesses launch through fortune of birth. The FDMA has a few women, no blacks to my knowledge, and few from the lower eschelons of society. Funnily, I no longer care. No longer feel that shoulder chip. I no longer want to be part of that conservative grouping. I no longer find the work attractive. As though the veil has been lifted, I see an awkward style. There are pieces within the grouping, designer makers whose work I like. But on the whole I now find it a poor branch of the tree of furniture design. Work for the maker. Furniture to please the maker, not the client. Where as art, in all its pomp and obstinate obscurity, at its heart is about communication. The cogniscenti maybe an elitist seeming bunch to the untrained eye, but the core aim has never changed. Fine craft furniture, bar a handful of greats, has become furniture to impress other makers. An inward perversion has grown steadily out of the seventies craft revival.
My own work, at least my exhibition pieces, were never aimed to sit in that grouping. Though finely made it was never targeted to communicate to other makers. I saw the medium as arbitrary. Just as Damien Hirst never aimed his work at impressing butchers or taxidermists, mine has never been aimed at the woodwork fraternity. Sadly, my exhibiting opportunities seldom came from the art world I sought. Fine craftsmanship was its sole connection to the designer makers.
Inevitably i continue to work however I realise now I can not use fine woodwork as my medium. Too easily confused with a category of object of a different family. Photography, painting, writing, three dimensional work now faces a fresh path where anything may be used. Bar my trade skill. Indeed, a trade I fell back on to get by. Some pieces I made could successfully sit alongside the Cheltenham show objects. Look back at my final pieces, the elliptical desk. The maple office in Chelsea. Photographs from my blog from January 2014 show the office. Ironically, it was having inadvertently becomeing successful in this bread and butter work that brought home to me how far I had slid from my objectives.
Today's brush with fighting and my turning my back on my assailant reminded me of the ayuashka message. That I need fight no more. This includes the personal fight I always felt in making commissioned work. Furniture I neither loved nor believed in. My fight is over. Time to be. Time to do as I wish. No more struggle.
Sent from my iPad
I rose at dawn, Dook always wakes me at first light. He has come a long way since we got him. He doesn't snap, bite or attack anyone unless provoked as he was want to do when we first got him. I know of several freinds who have had their dogs stolen whilst tied up outside shops. John, a street person and rough sleeper in Frome I know has spent six months distraught after losing his best freind whilst shopping in asda. So I'm not altogether unhappy that, when tied up outside shops, Dook will bite any pervert who tries to touch him. Since I was five I have known not to approach tied up dogs if you don't know them. They are trapped. They feel scared and when some stranger comes up are prone to try defend themselves. This can lead to a dogs death as the dog can be considered dangerous and euthanised regardless of situation or provocation, a dog must never bite a human. Such is the law. Perhaps this is the only realistic system.
In fact, I also add, don't approach strange dogs unless the owner says you will be safe. 'Is he friendly.', the knowledgable will always ask before touching another's dog.
This morning I tied him outside the paper shop. Some knobhead came in looking emasculated asking if the dog outside was mine. I said he was. He said the dog had nearly bitten him. I said the only time I have known him to bite anyone is if they don't know him and try to touch him. He admitted that he had made to touch Dook, this then said he would have punched me in the face if he had been bitten.
My immediate reaction was to wait outside the shop and batter the lad. I've never taken well to threats and don't like strangers trying to touch my dog. A score of situations from my past flashed through my life where similar threats have resulted in me leaving the threatener lieing spark out on the floor, curled up in a ball apologising or re threatening that once they've got their gang/ dad/ big brother how they are going to find me and ....A score too with me on the floor.
Yet I remembered the last time a similar situation had arisen. I was walking out in my own area when a young lad came round the corner in a car without indicating. I'd seen his approach but as he had not indicated assumed he was to head straight across the roundabout. But he turned, clipped me. I lost my temper and shouted at him through his window. I kicked the side of his car denting the metal. This caused him to leave his car running, to attack me. A full blown fight ensued with both of us on the ground at times. I was aware a few years back I could have knocked him out but he was half my age. Neither of us got the better of each other. A crowd was gathering. Unsure of how the police would take it, and no doubt their unhelpful presence would manifest before too long, I decided to walk away. Weirdly he followed, abandoning his still running car and followed me. The shock of not winning, something I hadn't often had before, not since boxing anyway, was distressing. I knew then my fighting days were over.
This is hard for a man. Perhaps a parallel to the female menopause. That look in the supermarket from a handsome carpenter, the fourth something blushes before realising the look is for her twenty year old daughter. The baton has been passed, silently and despite the mothers approval.
Our days as a champion are done. I had always enjoyed fighting and of course had lost a few. But the few had always had mitigating factors. I'd been stoned or drunk. I'd taken on some skilled fighter. Such runs a mans arrogance. He will find a narrative to support his heroism, despite contrary evidence. But to be unable to equal a normal twenty year old felt demeaning. The beginning of the downward spiral in to the grave.
So today I left it. I hung around, part of me wanted to defend my honour. To defend Dooks honour. The young lad, twenty odd, must have felt emasculated after Dook scared him but there was nothing to be gained by fighting the knobhead. Yes, it can be regarded as ones duty to twat knobheads, the world is full of too many. Still, better to start the day the bigger man. Better to walk away than suffer the ignominy of street defeat to a young boy, stupid cock weasel though he may be.
My last ayuashka experience had run through lost memories. Since my mothers death I had always been fighting. Why and who I don't know. Yet each day has been a battle. To never give in. Never surrender. To die in action.
Perhaps the ayuashka was merely telling me my age. That I could put down my guns now. I thought back to Peters party in Cornwall. He was drunkenly looking for trouble. He was spoiling for a fight. Over any tribal crap he could find. Waking up naked and bloody on the road, perhaps he had found it.
I don't need to fight anymore. That part of my life is over. I have been sufficiently upwardly mobile to escape a world where you fight or get beaten. No more could I care about being successful in business. My successes now are all regarding myself. I, and only I, know when my work is successful on the artistic side. Ironically I seldom felt inadequate on that front. I may have questioned my physical inability to overcome another man in combat. I may have questioned the ill fortune I was dealt in terms of launching out in to what I wanted to do. Choosing fine furniture designer making, ironically a field of practice no longer in the hands of what were often referred to as the artisan class. The hand working class. Now, to a man or woman, it has become the occupation of the middle class. The artisan class has changed meaning. It's members now come from parts of society where economic viability is of less consequence. Most makers find work through family, family freinds, community tribal freinds and acquaintances. Until their business is established, for the foundation two years, most fine craft furniture businesses launch through fortune of birth. The FDMA has a few women, no blacks to my knowledge, and few from the lower eschelons of society. Funnily, I no longer care. No longer feel that shoulder chip. I no longer want to be part of that conservative grouping. I no longer find the work attractive. As though the veil has been lifted, I see an awkward style. There are pieces within the grouping, designer makers whose work I like. But on the whole I now find it a poor branch of the tree of furniture design. Work for the maker. Furniture to please the maker, not the client. Where as art, in all its pomp and obstinate obscurity, at its heart is about communication. The cogniscenti maybe an elitist seeming bunch to the untrained eye, but the core aim has never changed. Fine craft furniture, bar a handful of greats, has become furniture to impress other makers. An inward perversion has grown steadily out of the seventies craft revival.
My own work, at least my exhibition pieces, were never aimed to sit in that grouping. Though finely made it was never targeted to communicate to other makers. I saw the medium as arbitrary. Just as Damien Hirst never aimed his work at impressing butchers or taxidermists, mine has never been aimed at the woodwork fraternity. Sadly, my exhibiting opportunities seldom came from the art world I sought. Fine craftsmanship was its sole connection to the designer makers.
Inevitably i continue to work however I realise now I can not use fine woodwork as my medium. Too easily confused with a category of object of a different family. Photography, painting, writing, three dimensional work now faces a fresh path where anything may be used. Bar my trade skill. Indeed, a trade I fell back on to get by. Some pieces I made could successfully sit alongside the Cheltenham show objects. Look back at my final pieces, the elliptical desk. The maple office in Chelsea. Photographs from my blog from January 2014 show the office. Ironically, it was having inadvertently becomeing successful in this bread and butter work that brought home to me how far I had slid from my objectives.
Today's brush with fighting and my turning my back on my assailant reminded me of the ayuashka message. That I need fight no more. This includes the personal fight I always felt in making commissioned work. Furniture I neither loved nor believed in. My fight is over. Time to be. Time to do as I wish. No more struggle.
Sent from my iPad
Friday, 4 September 2015
Wednesday, 2 September 2015
Wembley
Wembley
I barely slept the night before the Challenge Cup Final. It wasn't just the excitement that kept me awake but the worries over all the parts of completing the journey. In 1994 and 1995 Leeds reached the Challenge Cup final but lost to Wigan on both occasions. The 94 game was respectably close but 95 a humiliation. I was at university in High Wycombe at the time and invited my brother and freinds Pig and Lucy to stay a couple of nights on my student floor. From Wycombe to Wembley is an easy swift train journey. Most travellers are approaching and departing toward London and travelling out west makes for a far less crowded journey. Those two consecutive losses to the Pie Eaters came at a time when Leeds were always second best. Back then rugby league had no salary cap and once Wigan were on their historic winning roll they were able to use each years prize money to buy and pay for the best players. Nevertheless, this was a remarkable achievement. Rugby Union at the time was way behind and still operating under the shamateurism system whereby the antiquated notion that the sport be played for fun meant players were payed by paid directorships for boardrooms on companies they were never required to attend, houses and other 'gifts' masked the truth, that union players were in reality being payed more than their openly professional league parallels. The depth of the division in quality was revealed when Union finally came clean and went professional. Bath, the top union team of the time took on Wigan in a cross code challenge. The game played to league rules saw Wigan beat Bath 82 6. Ex Wigan stars andy Farrell and Shaun Edwards moved over to coach union for England and Wales. Their combined input has revolutionised the sport. Still by far the lesser code though popular down south, union is now respectable. Still dependent on penalties rather than tries, still the ungainly line ours and huge scrims. It isn't much of a spectacle for the fans but the standards of ball handling, tackling etc have improved vastly. Though union journalists and fans deride league it is still ironic their biggest World Cup story is the fast tracking of ex league star Sam Burgess that dominates the media build up to the visually dull competition.
By 1999 I was living in Shropshire and travelled down alone to see Leeds beat London Broncos.
Returning to High Wycombe on Saturday, our plan being to get free parking here and take the short train in, was strange and nostalgic. I had been back to the town after leaving college to work as a lecturer on the same course. Travelling so far before work meant my teaching there was poor. Sometimes I would rise at five, usually after little sleep as I always found lecturing unbelievably stressful in those days. Other times I would drive down the night before and sleep in my van. I had just broken up with my partner of twelve years, lost my home and was living in a caravan. Life was a struggle for various reasons but my teaching wasn't great during that spell.
Oddly I parked up right outside the house I lived in whilst a student there. I had arranged to meet up with an old freind I was at school with who has recently rediscovered the greatest game of all and has been following Leeds throughout this mercurial season. Back in 1980 whilst still at school we had somehow found ourselves with free tickets for Reading Rock Festival. My first ever festival. It was the year when the new wave of British heavy metal was at its peak and bands like def leopard and iron maiden were playing though not yet famous alongside angel witch, preying mantis and others that never made it so big. Headlining were white snake and Gillian but it was none of these we had gone to see. As big black sabbath fans, born too young to see them at their peak we were excited to watch ozzy osbournes new band.
We hitched down getting a lift from a guy who claimed to be a professional gambler and got us very stoned. Unused to cannabis we were high as kites when dropped off. We met up with two freinds and camped up. Ozzy had to cancel last minute. The replacements were Slade. This performance appears in all Slade histories as one of their greatest moments. The band had dropped out of fashion, punk and new metal bands had rendered their brand of good time rock and roll old hat. We were in for a real treat.
The festival had failed to take off. All the bands were pompous and crap. A rainbow of bottles were being hurled across the crowd, mostly plastic and urine filled but some glass causing various casualties. The crowd were reticent about Slade. They hadn't played live for two years. As a boy of seven I had loved Slade. Each single release would be a blinder, often going straight to number one. I learned what a really great band could do that day. Despite an initially hostile crowd Slade took that festival by storm. They won over the crowd who went absolutely mental. Slade, reinvigorated went on to conquer America. Something they never achieved in the seventies. I remember this as one of the best ever gigs I have ever been to.
I hadn't been on a long distance day out with elliot since then but if our combination could muster half the glory of that Slade gig, we were in for a ride.
I walked nostalgically through wycombes grubby streets. Little has changed since I lived there in the mid nineties. Passing the college I looked through the window of what had been the fine craft workshop. Nothing. The course, once thought of as the best course in the country to do fine furniture and the only one to degree level, appears to have been abandoned. Maybe it's moved. In this era of savage cuts I imagine the course is no more.
After meeting up we ate a harty breakfast. Elliot's new record store is doing well. He has been in love with music his whole life and run a second hand record shop for most of his adult life. His knowledge of music is vast. It was good to catch up before catching the train.
We were spat out on the side of the ground allocated to Hull KR and walked through thousands of fans in red and white. Smiling faces. This was their first major final for 26 years and half of the town must have travelled down. The new bronze statue of rugby league cup final legends, billy Boston, Alex Murphy, Martin offiah and other greats stood proud. Traditionally Wembley is an important part of rugby league history. For one day a year, the northerners invasion brightens up the stadium.
Inside we joined the mass of Leeds fans to watch the game. After the opening ceremonies note able for the singing of the traditional Wembley anthem by the wife of a rugby league player who recently died, abide with me, the game got underway.
Leeds weren't at their best in the first half but led 16 nil by half time without having to get out of second gear. I had feared this. Leeds are currently in such good form the chance of winning all three trophies seems more than a dream. This golden era for Leeds, built on a backbone of home grown talent began in 2004 when a young Leeds won league leaders shield and the championship for the first time in 32 years. Since then we have won a further five championships, two challenge cups and three world club challenges making Leeds joint most successful team in the superleague era.
In the second half Leeds were flawless. I mighty defensive effort from Leeds kept Hull KR to zero points scored. Leeds scored 50 in early celebration of my upcoming 50th birthday. Tom Briscoe scored a record five tries, winning the lance Todd trophy for man of the match. This highly emotional victory marks the final season for three of the golden agers finest players. Kevin Sinfield, golden boot winner and highest ever points scorer for Leeds is taking relative retirement to play the low energy rugby union. Jamie Peacock, the greatest prop forward of the modern era is retiring from playing to go work for Hull KR in an ambassadorial role. There will be some overlap as Rob Burrow and Danny McGuire, two from the same youth academy side as Kevin Sinfield are playing on. Two Australian props, both unique off loading props and another batch from the Leeds achademy are breaking through into the first team, steve ward, singleton, sutcliffe, kheinhorst and an awesome looking bunch of replacements look set to continue the Leeds legacy that could see Leeds remain the dominant force in rugby league. Quite easily the best team in either code of rugby currently playing in these isles. Wigan seem the only team likely to match them after Saint Helens were so easily despatched in the cup semi, though if jon Wilkin returns I'm sure they'll have their part to play in the play offs.
After the emotional scenes we left the ground. Our conversation opened up to more personal issues as we strolled back to our parked vehicles to drive off our seperate ways. A day to match the Slade 1980 moment in its own quite different way.
Sent from my iPad
I barely slept the night before the Challenge Cup Final. It wasn't just the excitement that kept me awake but the worries over all the parts of completing the journey. In 1994 and 1995 Leeds reached the Challenge Cup final but lost to Wigan on both occasions. The 94 game was respectably close but 95 a humiliation. I was at university in High Wycombe at the time and invited my brother and freinds Pig and Lucy to stay a couple of nights on my student floor. From Wycombe to Wembley is an easy swift train journey. Most travellers are approaching and departing toward London and travelling out west makes for a far less crowded journey. Those two consecutive losses to the Pie Eaters came at a time when Leeds were always second best. Back then rugby league had no salary cap and once Wigan were on their historic winning roll they were able to use each years prize money to buy and pay for the best players. Nevertheless, this was a remarkable achievement. Rugby Union at the time was way behind and still operating under the shamateurism system whereby the antiquated notion that the sport be played for fun meant players were payed by paid directorships for boardrooms on companies they were never required to attend, houses and other 'gifts' masked the truth, that union players were in reality being payed more than their openly professional league parallels. The depth of the division in quality was revealed when Union finally came clean and went professional. Bath, the top union team of the time took on Wigan in a cross code challenge. The game played to league rules saw Wigan beat Bath 82 6. Ex Wigan stars andy Farrell and Shaun Edwards moved over to coach union for England and Wales. Their combined input has revolutionised the sport. Still by far the lesser code though popular down south, union is now respectable. Still dependent on penalties rather than tries, still the ungainly line ours and huge scrims. It isn't much of a spectacle for the fans but the standards of ball handling, tackling etc have improved vastly. Though union journalists and fans deride league it is still ironic their biggest World Cup story is the fast tracking of ex league star Sam Burgess that dominates the media build up to the visually dull competition.
By 1999 I was living in Shropshire and travelled down alone to see Leeds beat London Broncos.
Returning to High Wycombe on Saturday, our plan being to get free parking here and take the short train in, was strange and nostalgic. I had been back to the town after leaving college to work as a lecturer on the same course. Travelling so far before work meant my teaching there was poor. Sometimes I would rise at five, usually after little sleep as I always found lecturing unbelievably stressful in those days. Other times I would drive down the night before and sleep in my van. I had just broken up with my partner of twelve years, lost my home and was living in a caravan. Life was a struggle for various reasons but my teaching wasn't great during that spell.
Oddly I parked up right outside the house I lived in whilst a student there. I had arranged to meet up with an old freind I was at school with who has recently rediscovered the greatest game of all and has been following Leeds throughout this mercurial season. Back in 1980 whilst still at school we had somehow found ourselves with free tickets for Reading Rock Festival. My first ever festival. It was the year when the new wave of British heavy metal was at its peak and bands like def leopard and iron maiden were playing though not yet famous alongside angel witch, preying mantis and others that never made it so big. Headlining were white snake and Gillian but it was none of these we had gone to see. As big black sabbath fans, born too young to see them at their peak we were excited to watch ozzy osbournes new band.
We hitched down getting a lift from a guy who claimed to be a professional gambler and got us very stoned. Unused to cannabis we were high as kites when dropped off. We met up with two freinds and camped up. Ozzy had to cancel last minute. The replacements were Slade. This performance appears in all Slade histories as one of their greatest moments. The band had dropped out of fashion, punk and new metal bands had rendered their brand of good time rock and roll old hat. We were in for a real treat.
The festival had failed to take off. All the bands were pompous and crap. A rainbow of bottles were being hurled across the crowd, mostly plastic and urine filled but some glass causing various casualties. The crowd were reticent about Slade. They hadn't played live for two years. As a boy of seven I had loved Slade. Each single release would be a blinder, often going straight to number one. I learned what a really great band could do that day. Despite an initially hostile crowd Slade took that festival by storm. They won over the crowd who went absolutely mental. Slade, reinvigorated went on to conquer America. Something they never achieved in the seventies. I remember this as one of the best ever gigs I have ever been to.
I hadn't been on a long distance day out with elliot since then but if our combination could muster half the glory of that Slade gig, we were in for a ride.
I walked nostalgically through wycombes grubby streets. Little has changed since I lived there in the mid nineties. Passing the college I looked through the window of what had been the fine craft workshop. Nothing. The course, once thought of as the best course in the country to do fine furniture and the only one to degree level, appears to have been abandoned. Maybe it's moved. In this era of savage cuts I imagine the course is no more.
After meeting up we ate a harty breakfast. Elliot's new record store is doing well. He has been in love with music his whole life and run a second hand record shop for most of his adult life. His knowledge of music is vast. It was good to catch up before catching the train.
We were spat out on the side of the ground allocated to Hull KR and walked through thousands of fans in red and white. Smiling faces. This was their first major final for 26 years and half of the town must have travelled down. The new bronze statue of rugby league cup final legends, billy Boston, Alex Murphy, Martin offiah and other greats stood proud. Traditionally Wembley is an important part of rugby league history. For one day a year, the northerners invasion brightens up the stadium.
Inside we joined the mass of Leeds fans to watch the game. After the opening ceremonies note able for the singing of the traditional Wembley anthem by the wife of a rugby league player who recently died, abide with me, the game got underway.
Leeds weren't at their best in the first half but led 16 nil by half time without having to get out of second gear. I had feared this. Leeds are currently in such good form the chance of winning all three trophies seems more than a dream. This golden era for Leeds, built on a backbone of home grown talent began in 2004 when a young Leeds won league leaders shield and the championship for the first time in 32 years. Since then we have won a further five championships, two challenge cups and three world club challenges making Leeds joint most successful team in the superleague era.
In the second half Leeds were flawless. I mighty defensive effort from Leeds kept Hull KR to zero points scored. Leeds scored 50 in early celebration of my upcoming 50th birthday. Tom Briscoe scored a record five tries, winning the lance Todd trophy for man of the match. This highly emotional victory marks the final season for three of the golden agers finest players. Kevin Sinfield, golden boot winner and highest ever points scorer for Leeds is taking relative retirement to play the low energy rugby union. Jamie Peacock, the greatest prop forward of the modern era is retiring from playing to go work for Hull KR in an ambassadorial role. There will be some overlap as Rob Burrow and Danny McGuire, two from the same youth academy side as Kevin Sinfield are playing on. Two Australian props, both unique off loading props and another batch from the Leeds achademy are breaking through into the first team, steve ward, singleton, sutcliffe, kheinhorst and an awesome looking bunch of replacements look set to continue the Leeds legacy that could see Leeds remain the dominant force in rugby league. Quite easily the best team in either code of rugby currently playing in these isles. Wigan seem the only team likely to match them after Saint Helens were so easily despatched in the cup semi, though if jon Wilkin returns I'm sure they'll have their part to play in the play offs.
After the emotional scenes we left the ground. Our conversation opened up to more personal issues as we strolled back to our parked vehicles to drive off our seperate ways. A day to match the Slade 1980 moment in its own quite different way.
Sent from my iPad
Tuesday, 1 September 2015
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