Category: debate

Watered down

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In front of me I have three glasses, one full of beer, the middle one empty and the third full of water.

Let’s take the beer to start with. I like to think of beer as a representation of the essence of the experience. It represents the bodies physiological response to the moment you enjoy and that moment can be anything, sex, laughter, sport, fear, enlightenment. Whatever, whatever moment that makes your body shake, form goose bumps, chicken skin, arousal, sweat. Anything that makes the heart beat faster.

The empty glass, that’s you and for the moment that’s empty.

And the third glass, well that’s water, that’s comfort that’s the easy path those are things that make your life easier, that’s things that help you pass difficult problems. That’s the internet, that’s a hover, those are things that ease the arousal, slow the heart beat.

We pour a little beer in the empty glass, it feels good, if you haven’t had it in a while it’s even better, we pour a little more in, but then we are shaky the body overloads, so we add water, we balance the beer.

But then we start to learn, there are tricks to get more beer with out the fear, there are ways to get more beer inside without the overload, so we fill up we add the water, the clip stick the panic draw, the ai, the insurance, the Burberry wallet. We now have all the ways to cope with more beer, but then we take a sip and we realise we are just drinking water, our beer has been diluted.

Goose bumps come from feeling, whatever thought inspires those bumps has to have an element of jeopardy it has to be beer and the more we learn to use water to fill up on beer the more we forget the taste.

Thief

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‘Right we got seven minutes.’ Sean said as they walked purposefully through the maze of shelves, using the light from their phones to illuminate their path to the counter. They jumped over and entered the office closing the door behind them. On a wooden desk they saw the safe perched precariously on top, a large dial and lock on the front. Sean handed Biola the scrap of paper and put the key in the lock.

‘read out the numbers’

Biola responded.

‘clockwise – 18’

Sean twisted the dial so the number 18 was in line with the red marker at the top of the dial where 12 would be on a clock.

‘Anti-clockwise – 33’
Again Sean twisted the dial, but this time in the opposite direction. ‘clockwise – 46’

The dial make a click as if something had released behind the door, they looked at each other and then Sean turned the key with the red tag in the lock. It ran smoothly, and there was a louder click as the heavy door swung open with its own weight and the angle of the desk the safe was sitting upon.

‘Boooom’ Biola cried as he peered into the safe, there were wads and wads of cash, it seemed like more than they had anticipated, it looked like something out of Ocean’s Eleven, it felt like Ocean’s Eleven, maybe they had more than they were expecting? Maybe they could all go home with 5K Biola thought.

‘Shhhhh’ Sean interrupted. ‘Pass me the bag’ Biola paused
‘The bag’ Sean demanded raising his voice a little.

Biola looked around as if he had dropped the bag, but he knew straight away that he had forgotten it, it wasn’t even in the car, he knew exactly where it was, he knew it was back at the flat on the sofa in Sean’s living room.

‘Sh*t man, sorry..’
Sean looked up at him, ‘you kidding me? You chump. F**k man’

But this was no time to despair, The clock was ticking and they needed a solution. Sean was thinking quickly.

‘Get some X-change bags’
‘From where?’ Biola replied
‘F**k knows, behind the counter.’ Sean guessed

Biola quickly responded walking out of the office to the area behind the counter. He started looking through the cupboards, nothing in the first, then he looked into the second, just a load of random stationary and plastic figures from cartoons and computer games that mostly came as freebees when new games came into the shop to help promote the new releases. Biola opened the third door and there was a stack of plastic bags neatly folded.

‘Yees bruv’ he called out to Sean, ‘How many do we want?’ ‘Bring two’ Sean estimated.

They stuffed all the notes into the plastic bags, the wads mainly in tens, a few twenties and some blocks of fives. The denominations low to reflect the value of the sales that the shop made to its customers.

‘Pikeys’ Sean murmured under his breath as if he was justifying the robbery to himself by creating a Robin Hood type of persona.

‘Right, lets go, check Tyrell is cool.’ Sean indicated as he pushed the safe door shut turned the key and picked up his bag.

Old and New

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James stood there looking out at the horizon. He smiled to himself as the blues and pinks blurred together where the sky met the sea. He raised his hand, held an imaginary brush and started to paint, softening the lines where the colours met, blending them together in his mind.

After five minutes of work, the colours started to change, he stopped, sat on the tree stump and cocked his head.

‘needs more orange’ he said to himself out loud…

…and continued, dipping his brush into the pallet and detailing the new colour infusion. How quickly things change, how hard was it to capture a moment. His thoughts drifted away from the make believe painting to how the horizon might have looked before the huge electricity poles, before all the houses and industry soaked up the water of the valley like a sponge. ‘I bet even then the sunset then would have been different. Green perhaps?’ he laughed to himself.

His thoughts continued a pace, ‘maybe 30 years ago the electricity poles would have looked so ugly on the horizon, but now they are strangely attractive, I wonder what human ugliness will bring next, and how we will start to love it.’

Confusion

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We all sat there listening, but the day had been long and the workshops tiring. It felt like the heat from the sun had been bottled and poured into the room, the doors sealed, windows locked, suffocating our minds. But we tried. The content of the lecture was interesting but concentration hard. As I looked around the room I saw many yawns growing and eyes shutting, but I scolded myself and listened.

It is interesting when you start to think, words and sentences connect to your experiences and thoughts and then you start to make sense of a conversation you are having in your head, but then, something in the explanation doesn’t add up or there are words you don’t want to hear, so you change the narrative to make it fit. I suppose you will always see what you want to see, but the difficult part is to know what you are looking for.

I kept listening trying to come to a conclusion, but in the end it seemed like the lecturer was offering a silver bullet, the answer, he made his thoughts clear and told us the truth. I felt anxious, it wasn’t the truth I wanted to hear, but in made a lot of sense. Was I willing to listen to it? I suppose only time will tell. Are we all so similar that we can analyse behaviour and find the answer, or is life a little more individual than that. I hope we are more individual.

The lecture stopped and they opened the doors, a rush of cool evening air poured in and my mind immediately felt refreshed, time and thoughts, time and thoughts I said to myself. But not too many thoughts.

The Break Up

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I didn’t understand it. I had so many questions inside my head, but none of the answers that I could come up with made any sense. And the worst part, I couldn’t stop the thoughts, they constantly bombarded my every moment, it was exhausting.

By the time the third day after the break up came around I finally found the energy to pick myself up and do something healthy, to try and make me feel wanted again. Somehow I needed to feel good and worthy. So I did all the things that when I was happy I put off, it’s funny how when you are happy you don’t need to do anything, you feel loved and that’s enough, if you are loved then what you do doesn’t matter, success or failure you will be loved. But when you are down, wow, then you need some medicine.

But after one day of feeling myself again, I saw her, and she was with him. My heart melted and it was back to questions, self doubt and no sleep. I wondered how long it would last, would I feel shit forever? Would the sadness pass? I don’t know, I promised myself that time would heal me, to be patient, but my temper flared and there were moments where I could not control myself I became violent to myself. I was desperate to cry to release everything, but I couldn’t bring the tears, I was numb.

I tried to pick myself up again, restore some energy into my life, but all I could do was think of ways of getting her back. That was the wort thing, all this pain and suffering I was feeling, caused by her, and all I could do was try get her back, return it to the place it was before, the place I had left it, the time when everything between us was natural, when we didn’t have to think, we were just good together. It was magic, like I genuinely believe that it was magic. But was that what she felt at the time? I don’t know, it seemed that way, maybe she was just a great actress.

Debate

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‘Watch them closely… and listen it’s a very interesting form of communication’

Jeremy was teaching his favourite class showing footage from the beginning of the digital age, it was a time when the power of internal conflict was not fully understood but was being used very effectively.

‘But it doesn’t make us any money’ Sasha demanded while pointing adamantly at the pool of ideas spread out across the table. ‘We need to focus on the sales in the bar.’

‘But it draws people into the bar in the first place, without the events we don’t attract as many people’

‘We do, the climbing attracts the people and we don’t have to have any investment in that, it’s here already’

Elizabeth laughed, but it was a sarcastic laugh, meant to impose her intellect. ‘We have invested thousands in the climbing’

‘And made money back’ Bernard added smartly.

‘Yea but times are changing.’ A row was simmering.

Jeremy stopped the tape and turned back to the class. ‘Okay can anyone tell me what what’s going on?’

Lucy raised her hand, ‘Yes Lucy’

‘Well the Co-op has made it’s money from the the climbers coming to the village and Elizabeth wants to diversify but Bernard thinks she is just spending the money made from the climbers on her own arts events.’

‘Great that is what’s happening on the face of things, but what is going on internally?’ The class took a collective breath, some bums shuffled in seats the eyes turned away from the professor back to their tablets. ‘Shall I continue?’ The class nodded in unison, Jeremy pressed play.

‘The main reason people keep coming back is not because of the climbing, it’s because of the people.’

‘You mean the climbers’

‘Shut up Bernard, stop being such a pig headed fool. The community is what makes it, you admit yourself that the parties and the bar create a cool atmosphere in the village.’

Bernard was quiet he agreed with her but wasn’t about to admit it. He just wanted more routes.

Elizabeth continued ‘If we want to keep the profits in the bar, we need to keep our audience hungry.’

Jeremy paused the tape again. ‘Okay internal conflict anyone?’

John raised his hand ‘The more they eat in the bar the more money they make?’ The class burst into laughter.

‘Very amusing John, can anyone expand on John’s words of wisdom?’

Joe put up his hand

‘Yes Joe’

‘Elizabeth wants the knowlege of the experiences in the bar to act like the social media frameworks.’

‘Good, quickly explain the social framework’

Joe paused for a moment… ‘You keep your audience by showing ‘the hero avatar’. Posts show your best life, so followers buy into you.’

‘Good so how is that playing out here?’

‘I am not sure if they are doing it digitally yet, but Elizabeth wants the the public to know about parties and art as the hero avatar. Perhaps she believes the diversification is more of a hook than just climbing.’

‘Okay good, that sounds like a hungry audience and what about the internal conflict? Yes Lucy.’

‘There are two, Bernards refusal to believe in Elizabeth’s art community makes her more adamant that it is right, Bernard effectively keeps her hungry. And the people coming to the village see or hear about the parties and climbing and want to be part of it.’

‘Great so what do we call that?’

The class answered in unison, ‘positive internal conflict and negative internal conflict.’