Thirty Three

…and so the future arrived, but before it could take a hold, we slipped backwards to Kent: raising a glass to welcome the newest niece, Erin Margot Miller, to Planet World on 29th December 2014.

Rachel Barker & I wrote and recorded The What I Wanted To Do’s album #56: BRAINSPADE that would, later in the year, spawn something more substantial, but for now we just rapp’d.

I aged a whole year to little fanfare and then there was a Manhattan Love Suicides show in Nottingham for Ian from Horowitz‘ Birthday Extravaganza.


Boyle, T.C.  The Inner Circle
DeLillo, Don.  Point Omega
Eco, Umberto.  The Prague Cemetery
Lennon, Nigey.  Alfred Jarry: The Man with the Axe
Murakami, Haruki.  Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage


OB is a fanatic. He’s also an x. Better to keep away from him. I don’t want to destroy the x. I might even say the x are my best allies. I’m interested in the morale of the . . . people. It is my wish (and the wish of those I hope to please) that these people do not direct their discontent against the T. We therefore need an enemy. There’s no point looking for an enemy among, I don’t know, the y or the z, as despots have done in the past. For the enemy to be recognized and feared, he has to be in your home or on your doorstep. Hence the x. Divine providence has given them to us, and so, by God, let us use them, and pray there’s always some x to fear and to hate. We need an enemy to give people hope. Someone said that patriotism is the last refuge of cowards; those without moral principles usually wrap a flag around themselves, and the bastards always talk about the purity of the race. National identity is the last bastion of the dispossessed. But the meaning of identity is now based on hatred, on hatred for those who are not the same. Hatred has to be cultivated as a civic passion. The enemy is the friend of the people. You always want someone to hate in order to feel justified in your own misery. Hatred is the true primordial passion. It is love that’s abnormal. That is why Christ was killed: he spoke against nature. You don’t love someone for your whole life — that impossible hope is the source of adultery, matricide, betrayal of friends . . . But you can hate someone for your whole life, provided he’s always there to keep your hatred alive. Hatred warms the heart.  Umberto Eco, The Prague Cemetery

Continue reading “TWENTY FIFTEEN: IN REVIEW”