FiftyFive ~ # 55

I bought a copy of Iraq: the borrowed kettle by Slavoj Žižek yesterday. The title is taken from the old Freud joke:

1. I never borrowed a kettle from you
2. I returned it to you intact
3. the kettle was already broken when I got it from you

implying, of course, that I had returned a broken kettle. Ok so its not hugely funny (are all jokes supposed to be) it does demonstrate a point which is being played out in our daily politics - words are dissembled and sentences restructured and everyone claims to be saving the world but their rhetoric is full of broken kettles. Stories are like coincidences though. Having havered on about Icarus and the work I am doing, the reading and the planning of papers, I find that in the same Journal I published, Jesus, Judas, Jimi and John, my old friend Jeri Kroll published, Living on the Edge: Creative Writers in Higher Education in exactly the same ISSUE: Vol 14 No 1 April 2010, see: http://www.textjournal.com.au/april10/kroll.htm, and guess who makes a guest appearance? I quote, "WH Auden's 'Musée des Beaux Arts' responds primarily to 'Landscape with the Fall of Icarus' (c1558), a famous painting by Flemish artist Pieter Brueghel... On one level readers are invited to contemplate a 20th-century poet's sophisticated appreciation of Brueghel's painting, which was described to me when I first saw it as a supreme example of ironic understatement. Brueghel in his turn was responding to the well-known myth of Icarus..." The coincidence that she was writing her paper the same time as I and we were both, at the same time, musing 10,500 miles apart on the same thing (see: http://fiftyfive-fifty-five.blogspot.com/2009/12/fiftyfive-9.html ). Of course, it is the well known myth itself and the way we can intervene in the story which really interests. For the few words we get from Ovid and others can only tell a little bit of the story - and indeed the perceived wisdom; Daedalus telling Icarus to fly the middle way is surely a bit of a "borrowed kettle story" - so I will look at this idea some more. Though the this intervention of Lord Frederick Leighton's Icarus - adapted here and bungy jumping is a bit of fun - as is this Freaking News site: http://www.freakingnews.com/Frederic-Leighton-Paintings-Pictures---1238.asp. The broken kettle story reminded me of an old Scottish tale which my granny told me (and I suspect its much travelled in other cultures). One day I saw her planting pebbles in the the lambing field and asked why she was doing that. She replied, it's to keep the wildcats away from the wee lambs. I replied there were no wildcats this far south and there have been no sightings of any. There you go, she said, it works, the wee lambs are safe! Aye it works in a logical sense (though the vegetarians might disagree). But I also like the way songs play around with logic like this - last time a pondered posting this - here it is - Make Every Word Hurt:

FiftyFive ~ # 55

We don't collect art so much as have pieces that accumulated through the years. I particularly like this piece which was made by my neighbour Kate. It is called Private View and is made out of metal. Isn't it great - it hangs in the front room. I might commission some miniature Picasso pics so I can have an alternative exhibition. I could have my own private viewing too - its a thought. At the moment I am still researching the Fear of Flying, Falling and Laughter paper I am to give in Australia. At the moment I am looking for the Freud essay, 'Thoughts for the Times on War and Death'. When he wrote, "Life is impoverished, it loses in interest, when the highest stake in the game of living, life may not be risked." This idea on risk taking does just address the Icarus effect, it addresses the whole idea of creativity and being creative and risk taking and I am matching it with the Adam Phillips question I posted before, "...what is the fear of being laughed at a fear of?" But enough of all that - spring has sprung, the leaves are turning green, the plum, damson, apple and assorted other blossoms are popping out all over the garden. I was doing some work on Anne Tyler (novelist) the other day and suddenly realised that she and Lori McKenna (songwriter) could be soul mates - I wonder if there is something about Quakerism in them both. Anne writes these wonderful wimin stories - not feminism (as such) but about wimin who spend a long time saying nothing (in that Quaker circle idea), then change their lives, even though they almost always return home to do so and Lori, now a mother of five who never wrote song until she was 27, always writes positively about her relationship#, - how romantic is that and while I have been a fan of her's for a long time (see Kitchen Tapes - literally recorded in her kitchen) this is the first time I have heard this particular song - though I couldn't decide whether to post How Romantic is That, which is a sunny side up song or the sunny side down, Make Every Word Hurt - perhaps next time. # on scanning more of her most recent stuff I might have to re-visit that positively idea - if you get a chance check out Make Every Word Hurt and Drinkin' Problem. What I like is how (like Anne Tyler) she takes snapshots of small town stories and sings them straight.

FiftyFive ~ # 55

When D. saw this this picture he said, "Dad, I can't remember you when you had brown hair." I know what he means, its hard enough for me to remember and it was curly too. Though I confess I still have that shirt - not sure you can see the pink in it, the picture didn't scan as well as it should have. This picture was taken before D 'n' A were born but not much so its makes it seventeen years ago - A. will be seventeen in a month's time. I am sitting in a cafe in France, which I did in those days and I plan to do so again some time this summer - even if its just a day trip to Dieppe for I truly miss France, the coffee and pastis and the cafe babble and... and... och, nostalgia, eh? This might be the last clip I post from JB but I like this song too, I think I might have been seventeen when I heard it... or twenty-two or thirty-five or... sigh:

FiftyFive ~ # 55

Being an ageing hippy with a wacky haircut allows you to have a little smile at yourself without taking life too seriously - and this is something we can all do. And I was thinking that sometimes this blog has escaped one of the things I like most in life - which is having a laugh. To some extent, I have come to the end of a burdensome Easter break - so many forms to fill in, so many applications and proposals to be made, so many things to be done - that often you forget what is important, like fun. But now the chores are done - and this is the best of them, the TEXT publication of:

Jesus, Judas, Jimi and John: culture, communication, media and art in delightful chaos You can see it here: http://www.textjournal.com.au/april10/melrose.htm

Its good to cross it off the list and still be able to see it up there. But the Easter break is all but over and teaching starts again next week and as you say goodbye to one paper written another beckons. In June I fly to Australia to give, Fear of Flying, Falling and Laughter another paper. But hopefully I will be able to cull some of the ideas I have accrued in this blog, and then be able to publish them too. Nothing is wasted, us old hippies are into recycling, especially recycling words! The observant will recognise the Icarian theme, it is to be presented to the ‘Art and Other Questions’ seminar series at the University of Canberra. Do I sound excited? You betcha! The only thing I can't decide is whether to take my mandolin with me - I mean its 23 hours on the plane - I'll need to have something to do, won't I? But hey, old players don't stop playing, they just busk along and take it easy:

FiftyFive ~ # 55

I like guitars, in fact I am not sure what I would do without them and I like listening to guys playing them too - like these two old guys, who got me thinking, how did we get to be this age? But like I have said before the alternative isn't to be contemplated. And right now, Saturday morning in sunny Brighton, while the spring begins to force its way through, I wish I was sitting in the garden playing with these guys. I'm not maudlin' or feeling low, its just I have work to do and this clip is a distraction that I absolutely adore - so, post it here. Sod working, I am going to hit the garden and play - we can call it a loan on a debt that I owe on a bet that I lost:

FiftyFive ~ # 55

I have spent days over the past couple of weeks standing around tennis courts (like the one pictured aside). And if you had the romantic notion that it looked like this then forget it. This picture is Portugal which I adore (for the food and warmth) I was in Nottingham which was f...ff...fffreezing, Arctic even. But never mind, it was worth it to see A. playing - and playing so well too. But this posting brings me to a problem. FiftyFive@FiftyFive has been reached and what I am to do? I have decided to forget it on the grounds that titles are just symbolic and since I am writing this for the future (when my kids can look it up) I will just keep going - at least until I am fifty six which is getting closer by the day (and thank goodness for the alternative is not an option - I still have too many bills to pay). However the only thing to report is that I have started writing a new paper to give in Canberra come our late spring and their Autumn (will I ever escape the cold for warmer climes). The title is to be "Fear of Flying, Falling and Laughter" - which readers of this blog may have sensed as preoccupations. Who knows where it will go or indeed how but it is already turning around on my head. The only problem is all flying in the UK (including Icarus' maiden flight) has been cancelled due to volcanic dust in the atmosphere. First the Icelanders give us their "Vikings" then their "Cod Wars" now we get their "Fire and Ice" although to be fair - I like this Viking lass (aside and below), she has an attitude that I can appreciate. She seems to have no fear of flying, falling or laughter and I admire her attitude in that respect. I also like the prothalamion sound of this song - Big Time Sensuality - long may it (and she) survive with optimism and balliamo.

NB: I used to love posting the small postage stamp Youtube clips on my blog but unfortunately the one above appears to be the smallest one they do now - unless anyone else knows that I am doing something wrong - if so please tell me. I would rather go back to the smaller clips - why do people insist on fixing stuff that isn't broken - humph, and I still loathe Windows 7 ?!?

FiftyFive ~ # 55

It has been a funny few months. I started this new faze of my life writing my Inaugural Address (such a grand title) albeit five years later than I should have. But today - yes a Sunday, academics never sleep - I dotted the last "j" and crossed the last bridge in turning it into a paper for the highly creditable TEXT Journal and it will go online this month (I will post the link). The editors have been great in teasing it out and knocking it into shape and I can now say, with a certain smugness, I am rather pleased with it, them and myself - yay, as they might say. And this is the preamble:

Jesus, Judas, Jimi and John: culture, communication, media and art in delightful chaos.

Abstract: This is a paper about a storytelling journey and a journey in storytelling, through a labyrinth of loose affiliates in culture, communication, media and art, which should be seen as a critically creative and creatively critical adventure that tries to make sense of the delightful chaos that is life in representation.

Keywords: culture; communication; media; art; modernism; postmodernism; story

And smug as it feels now, it has been a wonderful journey. For as Don DeLillo reminds me, I write to find out what I know. Some may think that is fuck nothing though it may be fuck all (to paraphrase Michael Curtiz - I think). And so I celebrated by going into town and buying myself three books, one by Noam Chomsky, Problems of Knowledge and Freedom; one by Adam Phillips, Terrors and Experts, which I had before but lost and and Italian cookery book by Aldo Zilli - got them in Sandpiper Books in Brighton - £15 the lot - always great bargains in there. And now I am thinking, what tune would I like to celebrate by showing you this Robert Juniper image and to play it out (and I know I have posted this before, but it gets me every time). Exercise that mind - and stay forever young - yay!

FiftyFive ~ # 55

The spring garden - or at least April garden begins to show the cycle of years coming round again. I started this blog last Autumn, or Fall for the Americans and there is a feeling that we have come through a long dark winter, for it has been a dreich start to the year - certainly cold and dark - and now it is light and airy showing fecund promise. And with the promise of fecundity comes that newness feeling - no need then for me to be chopped up and stuck in Medea's cauldron to be boiled anew, nor do I hope A & D will think to cut me up - like the daughters of Pelias did. Though I have been thinking about St Augustine' Confessions, viz: "For verses and poems I can turn into food for the mind, for though I sang about "the flying Medea" I never believed it, but those other things [the fantasies of the Manicheans] I did believe." The flying Medea precedes Icarus in Metamorphosis, though it is said she was helped by flying dragons. But it does keep the flying theme open and also for the transformation of people into birds and flying chariots and the Icarus effect persists. Its a strange affair - and who better to sing such a song than the wonderful June Tabor - ages since I have listened to her and here with the mercurial Martin Simpson playing - simply divine:

FiftyFive ~ # 54 (again too)

Bruno Bettleheim once wrote, "If we hope to live not just from moment to moment, but in true consciousness of our existence, then our greatest need and most difficult achievement is to find meaning in our lives." But meaning comes around and goes around and is ever changing. A & D pictured here with the alien are a huge part of the meaning of my life. But change is inevitable - A is currently in Malta playing international tennis - today is the quarter finals. But this year alone she has been in Istanbul; Copenhagen; Stockholm and Helsinki. And D, well he will be fifteen on Monday and he is taller than me now. Bettleheim also wrote, "Today, as in times past, the most important and also the most difficult task in raising a child is helping him to find meaning in life." I can see how that works and yet how much of it is luck, or having a sense of humour, or just helping them to grow - not just physically but in experience and humour and laughter and... soon they will be all grown up and leaving home. Since this is April the first today, surely it is some kind of joke life plays on us. Because I expect when we see them photographed (above) we never really feel as though they will grow old and go - what a scary thought. And yet this was them most recently (aside) dancing in a fountain, still pals and happy to be on holiday together. I hope that lasts forever. Am I maudlin here? Wallace Stevens might call me the man with the blue guitar and that is such a great poem:

The man bent over his guitar,
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.

They said, You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are...

There is no fool like and April fool, huntigowk - time for Martin Simpson - such a good picker... and if you follow this link there is loads of his stuff at the Museum of Making Music in Carlsbad, California on November 19, 2008. I once saw him live in Brighton, in The Greys pub, superb - such a blue guitar - and killing the blues!