Other things in Life

NEW LOCKDOWN, Day 11, Monday.

Lockdown has put me in mind of Wendell Urth – a fictional ‘extra-terrologist’ created by Isaac Asimov in a few of his detective sci-fi stories.  Urth is regarded as the world’s foremost expert on distant worlds, but he has a morbid fear of leaving his own rooms, so while his mind is universe wide, his living space is enclosed.

     It doesn’t take a very dramatic shift to think about our own limiting conditions under lockdown with its radical lessening of our personal spaces, while at the same time encouraging our compulsive fascination with an election half a world away! 

    

Perhaps the American Election is the modern day equivalent of ‘Bread and Circuses’ for the Enclosed Folk of Lockdown: it keeps us off the streets; gives us something to concentrate our minds; allows us to be safely (domestically) judgemental about all those Republican idiots without masks; deflects attention from the situation at home; is a soap opera that never seems to end; it has a moral (of sorts); it has clearly defined Goodies and Baddies, and so on.

     I am almost tempted to say that if there had not been something like the American Election to fill our newspapers and TV screens then something would have had to have been invented.  And I don’t mean a new series of Celebrity Big Brother.  Which I wouldn’t have watched.

     What Biden needs to do is make American politics competent and boring.  A time when each day does not need to start with a convulsive clutching of the mobile phone to find out what new horror The Orange Outcast has leashed upon the world.  Biden is decent, politically savvy, a born compromiser – if he is allowed to do his job then things will settle down and be predictively tedious.  Please.

     This morning I clicked on a link which took me to Biden’s Transition Blog or webpage or whatever and there was a section to be filled out which invited the reader to join and be the recipient of regular updates.  I filled it out, but the thing needed a further registration or forgotten password, or something.  And I just let it go.  And that is surely right.  We have now come to a stage where we need to be weaned away from an easy reliance of the Orange Antics of Small Handed Narcissists and we should not seek to place the onus of entertainment on plodding dependable Biden.

     Let’s face it, although the thrill got less with each unparalleled outburst, Trump was entertaining.  As long as you forgot that he was the most powerful man in the world and leader of the Free World etc.  He was pure, totally sullied, entertainment.  He just wasn’t a politician.  Or decent human.  But, like the witches in Salem, he provided not only spectacle, but also a Manichean boost for leftie liberals, where Trump’s mere existence showed that they had to be right because they were opposite.  I’m not sure that the comparison works, as I seem to be equating witch-burning bigots with the left, which is not my intention at all.  A more responsible writer would cut the whole of this paragraph and either re-work the idea or scrap it; but that ain’t me! 

     Liber scriptus es, as they say, though thinking about it again, that quote can get me into more trouble and be even more confusing and confused. 

     Well, on to the next topic.

 

 

Which is, the algorithm that Netflix uses to keep its patrons (!) secure is getting more blatant in its ensnaring of me.  Today, as I popped in for a little light comedic fare from my usual pushers at The Big Bang Theory, I was presented with a childish, garish advertisement for what was obviously a juvenile animation called Wonder Park, the figures were cartoonish rather than draftsman drawn and the appearance was rigidly commercial.  Something to pass by, to ignore, to find something a little more amusing and a little more intellectually stimulating.

     It reduced me to tears.  OK, I fully admit that, rather like my mother, some Andrex adverts have been enough to make me emotionally wobbly, but they used unfair tactics like Yellow Labrador puppies, and who can then resist?

  I double-clicked and I was hooked.  And once involved in something like fantasy/Sci-Fi/animation, I can always find an intellectual, literary, cultural reference to justify my continued attention.

     In most of the big company animations today where money has been spent on a decent script and the process, there is usually a sequence or some witty (adult referenced, to keep them interested) dialogue to make a moment and to give pleasure.  And there were more than a few such moments in this feel-good movie.  Yes, you could tell and list the animation films that they were shamelessly ripping off, but they did it with some style and so I am prepare to allow them to count as ‘influences’ or homage!

     I’m not entirely sure that I would recommend it as something for everyone, but a competent piece of animation, it is a delight.

 

And now, to complete the evening, some reading.  Or rather, some reading which is not about the American election in the Guardian.  A real book, well, a freebie downloaded to my Kindle, but it all counts!

 

 

 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - Day 97 - Saturday 20th June

[This entry is out of sequence because of the vagaries of my ‘vintage’ laptop where the program froze and nothing worked.  After forcing a ‘quit’ the day afterwards, I discovered that most of the entry had been lost when I eventually started the program up again and tried to find the writing that I had done.

I am going to leave this as I found it, as an example of the tyranny of locking your writing to a machine!]

The day was punctured by explosions as we are reminded that we are working our way towards San Juan when the setting off of petados is encouraged, with kiosks springing up along the paseo selling explosives.  This day and the days around it are the equivalent of Guy Fawkes Day, though with more loud noises than flamboyant fiery inscriptions in the sky.  It is, of course, a nightmare for dogs, though I am (callously) open to the more spindly-legged rat dogs suffering terminal shock as one way of stopping their endlessly squeaky pseudo-barks.

     In previous years the most worrying aspect of the festivities are kids setting off penny-bangers, the sort of things that have long been banned in the UK, but here are probably regarded as a hallowed tradition that some right-wingers will probably urge should be regarded as part of the Patrimony of Humanity – the sort of designation that PP wants connected to bull fighting and other grotesque practices.

     It will be revealing to see just how many people turn up on the beach of Castelldefels as there is a tradition of staying up all night drinking around a camp fire that has been progressively modified over the past few years.  It is now illegal to light fires on the beach and public drinking is always frowned upon in this country.  During a pandemic what sort of physical distancing should be taking place.  What will the police be doing during the festival?  How desperate are people to get back to what they know and love?  It all waits to be seen.

The app for booking my swim seems to have gone a little haywire.  A previous booking for tomorrow has disappeared though the booking procedures for next week still seem to be in place, but with double or even more places available, but I was told that all restrictions had been removed.  This does not seem to be the case, but I am sure that things will be made a little plainer when I go to my swim in the morning.  Or not of course!

Today has not been as productive a day as yesterday and I even found myself dozing off after lunch!  But I have managed to get some of the more basic tasks done, even though the place is still looking a little dishevelled as I have not tidied up my tidying up, if you see what I mean.

I am re-reading some of Steven Saylor’s Mysteries of Ancient Rome on my Kindle and thoroughly enjoying them.

LOCKDOWN [Phase 1] CASTELLDEFELS – DAY 81 – Thursday, 4rd June.

Rain!  The fact that the word has an exclamation mark after it shows how rare it is, hindering me from taking my daily earlyish morning bike ride.  I mean, I am not fanatical about it and I have discovered that my lightweight coat is now (after lockdown girth-gain) somewhat snug to the point of constriction.  This means that my ‘small enough to be compressed to the size of a cricket ball’ coat is now not so useful and I will have to look around though my weather-wear to find something more suitable to carry with me on the bike as an emergency covering to cope with inclement weather.

     The rain held off for almost all of my ride, and even towards the end the rain was ‘only in the wind’ and I did not need to put on the jacket that I had packed into a small backpack.  The inclement weather encouraged most people to stay at home and so my ride was rather more spacious than usual and a damn sight more pleasant.

     As Catalan weather is not quite as spiteful as British weather, the rain did not really develop into something more damp and we even had some sunshine, though I was too tardy to take much advantage of it.

The cultural event of the day was the National Theatre free play from the Donmar Theatre of Coriolanus with Tom Hiddleston.  Again it was one of those filmed performances that you really wanted to experience in the theatre rather than on the screen, but it was a moving experience, and I am glad and grateful that I have had the opportunity to see it.

     I think of Coriolanus in the same way that I think about Madame Bovary: there is no one in the play or novel whom I really like, but I very much enjoy the moral dilemmas and quandaries that both throw up in their essentially chaotic lives. 

     The production of Coriolanus was complicated by the fact that Hiddleston has something of a mesmeric stage presence and, in spite of what he was saying it was almost impossible not to feel for him.  Both Coriolanus and Madame Bovary are both characters whose impossibly complicated lives seem to insist on death as the only reasonable solution to their situations!

I have now read (via Kindle) the second of Tom Holt’s novels using the characters created by EF Benson.  I think that I read it too soon after my re-reading of the first, with the result that the second, Lucia Triumphant, seems a little formulaic and self-indulgently picaresque – though, to be fair, that is quite like the style of the originals.  There were one or two points of real pleasure in the elegance of the writing and the cleverness of the situations engineered, but it did not satisfy as much as the first, possibly because the setting in the Second World War gave a more convincing overarching backdrop.  Nevertheless, worth reading.  And indeed, worth buying in Kindle.

     After talking to Irene, I have also downloaded at her suggestion a book of short stories by John Grisham called Ford County which I look forward to reading tomorrow.

The extension of the lockdown seems to be a formality here in Spain.  We seem to be heading for the next level in our lockdown by the weekend and who knows, it might even be possible to swim in the sea next week. 

     We take our pleasures as we are allowed to find them.

When does a good read become a bad life?

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I resisted for as long as possible, and then I gave in and bought it.

And what’s more I didn’t go for my daily swim so that I could read it.  I haven’t finished it yet, but I have decided to limit my indulgence so that it can be spread over a longer period than my usual reading speed will allow.  It also gives me time to take it in.

I am talking, of course, about “Fire and Fury: Inside the Trump White House” by Michael Wolff.  I bought it legitimately via one-click for my Kindle, though I note that there are various ways of downloading it illegally on the Internet too.  I take the view that a workman is worthy of his hire and therefore, even though I do not have the physical book in front of me, I have the words and therefore I suppose that I have paid a fair wack of money to the author.  That last sentence stands as a sort of accusation to the subject of Fire and Fury who would regard me as SAD for not taking advantage of someone when the opportunity arose!  I spurn him as I would a rabid dog!

The only volume to which I can compare Fire and Fury is another book that I read with equal incredulity, “Imperial Caddy: The Rise of Dan Quayle in America and the Decline and Fall of Practically Everything Else” by Joe Queenan.   But the difference between Dan Quayle and 45, was that Quayle was only the vice president, not the incumbent sitting at the desk in the Oval Office.   

For those of you unacquainted with the idiocy and ineptitude of Quayle then allow your fingers to take you on a magical journey where the Internet preserves some of his finest pronouncements for posterity.  I would urge you to start your visit with https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Dan_Quayle

and if that whets your appetite, you could do worse that purchasing Joe Queenan’s book.  The worthless Quayle stayed a heartbeat away from the Presidency, but now we have Grade A garbage as President and a frightening bigot fawning in the background ready to take his place!

Back to Fire and Fury.  It is difficult to read this book as political analysis, not only because sources are not acknowledged and there is a certain amount of literary leeway in describing meetings in which Wolff did not participate in the manner of fly-on-the-wall reportage, but also because I simply do not want to believe that what I am reading is a remotely accurate description of how the most powerful nation in the world is functioning - or rather not even remotely functioning.

In some ways the petty infighting, scheming, rivalry, lies, corruption, deceit, mendacity, incompetence, arrogance, contempt and narcissism could be seen as an eloquent critique of capitalism and democracy.  They don’t work.  But, on the other hand, the book could also be seen as an even more eloquent testimony to the strength of institutions in the United State as they are still surviving in spite of the complete odium with which the President of that country regards them.

In my history classes in college I was taught that the Great Man or Woman of History approach to the past was outmoded, far more important were the social and political movements that produced those people or allowed them to flourish. 

It may be perversely comforting to think that a monster like Hitler was somehow uniquely ‘evil’ and that the abstract malevolence contained inside his damned soul corrupted all around him, but how did the figure-of-fun Hitler hawking his writing round the Bierkellers of Berlin get to be the dictator of Germany?  How did his pernicious doctrines find acceptance?  For an answer you have to look at the past history of German, the social conditions pertaining and the way that the political situation opened the way for the Brownshirts and Nazism.

In the same way Wollf’s book shows a completely dysfunctional White House with virtually no one with any idea of how to run the country.  The ultimate authority is a child-like narcissist with the attention span of a Homer Simpson (but without Homer’s endearing features) and he is clearly more interested in playing golf and being nasty about Clinton and Obama than getting to grips with the useful operation of power.

Since Wolff’s interest centres on eighteen months in the life of 45’s campaign and tenure in the White House, Wolff does not (so far as I’ve read so far) go into the reasons for his being there - just how did he do and she fail it?

I must admit that I am convinced by the description of the whole Trump Election Campaign, the whole shebang, being a play for what happened after he lost the election.  In his wildest dreams he never expected to win, but was looking forward to the billions of dollars of free publicity in giving him greater leverage in the media so that he could become an ‘even greater’ star.  All his ‘people’ worked with him so that they could find good jobs when the campaign failed.  This would explain why they didn’t bother to divest themselves of questionable financial links - after all, these would only pose embarrassing questions if 45 was successful and, as that couldn’t possibly happen, all the skeletons would stay safely in the cupboard.

Let’s take another view of the election.  Forget running for president, imagine this instead.  Suppose that Michelangelo died before completing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and that a crazed Pope announced a competition for its completion with a prize of absurd importance and a guarantee of worldwide fame for the successful artist.

Some artists would be cowed by the immensity of the undertaking, some would feel that they were unworthy of the commission, some would think about it and then think again, and some of the best artists would also put themselves forward citing past work as evidence that they could do it.

And then imagine that I decide to throw my paintbrush onto the palette, so to speak.  Although I am fascinated by the history of art, I am, alas, no painter.  My greatest artistic achievement in the plastic arts is a series of drawings in a small sketchbook that I did as my mother’s birthday present from a holiday I took in Turkey.  And those drawings are only acceptable when viewed through the accommodating critical maternal eye!

However, let me take a leaf out of Trump’s approach and apply it to my application.

 

Hi everyone!  What a fantastic crowd, this is the largest crowd ever assembled to hear an artist speak.  True!

Everyone knows that the Arts in Rome are fixed.  There is a swamp of artists in the city who manage (what a surprise!) to get all the best commissions.  They are wealthy and out of touch and don’t care about you.  It’s got nothing to do with skill, but with who you know.  If you have a Cardinal in your family, or better still a Pope then you are part of that charmed circle which deliberately excludes new, exciting and popular talent from showing itself.

And what if I don’t know the techniques of fresco?  Is that really so important?  Is that the only way?  What are we not being told about this commission?  We need to know the truth about this and many other things!  A truth that has been kept away from the ordinary people, the people who matter!  There was a time when Rome was respected throughout the world, when the word Rome meant something.  Rome is more than a few daubs on the ceiling.  Rome is you, the people; you are the shining glory of what we once were and what we can be again.

I do not paint for myself, indeed if I give myself over to this commission I will suffer financially, but I do not count the cost.  I think only of you and of how we, together can Make Rome Great Again!  Run Raphael Out of Town!  Give Veronese the V sign!  My art is your art, and your art is our art: together we will Make Rome Great Again!

Thank you!  Thank you very much!  Thank you!

As I read through Wolff’s destruction of Trump’s White House, I think about what might happen next.

It is very dangerous to assume that just because Trump is uniquely unqualified socially, politically, educationally, morally, sartorially and every other -lly that you can think of, that he will actually resign or be impeached or be otherwise removed, but say for a moment the tenure of the 45^th president was ended.   

This is the succession:

1         The Vice President                                        Mike Pence

2         The Speaker of the House of 

           Representatives                                             Paul Ryan

3         President pro tempore of the Senate      Orrin Hatch

4         Secretary of State                                          Rex Tillerson

5         Secretary of the Treasury                           Steven Mnuchin

6         Secretary of Defense                                     Jim Mattis

7         Attorney General                                           Jeff Sessions

Hardly a glittering list. 

Mike Pence terrifies me; Paul Ryan is spineless; Orrin Hatch is very old and on the point of retirement, and that someone like Jeff Sessions is on any list for any post of responsibility is depressing to put it mildly.

Right I’ve depressed myself sufficiently to go back to Fire and Fury and switch on my ‘fiction’ button in the brain and have a good read!


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