so it goes
so it goes aims to provide a platform for radical innovative and alternative expression. It is looking for articles on sociopolitical and cultural subjects, and for articles on nonconformist poetry. contact so it goes at soitgoes2410@gmail.com
Friday, 27 July 2012
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
И ушли, убежали
Те веские ночи
Унеслись по посторам
Сознанья хмельного
Расстоянье руки
В темноте разговора
Мягко струны гитары
Обжигают металлом
Я тебе этой ночью
Не всю правду сказала
Пела песни запоем
И курила сигары
Дождь расплавил загадки
Одеяло упало
Новой музыки тайны
Как десерт после боя
Мы скатились по волнам
Нашей дружбы прибоя
Те веские ночи
Унеслись по посторам
Сознанья хмельного
Расстоянье руки
В темноте разговора
Мягко струны гитары
Обжигают металлом
Я тебе этой ночью
Не всю правду сказала
Пела песни запоем
И курила сигары
Дождь расплавил загадки
Одеяло упало
Новой музыки тайны
Как десерт после боя
Мы скатились по волнам
Нашей дружбы прибоя
Monday, 9 April 2012
Jimmy Nelson. On blogging. In Paris.
April has begun and here I find myself, much as I might have found myself back in October when this whole adventure had just started, sitting alone in my apartment sipping on wine and listening to Mozart violin concertos as the late-afternoon sun caresses my face, contemplating the turn of events that has brought me here at this moment and wondering where future turns may lead me. Considering the frequency of this scene, one would think that I had done some serious and productive contemplation, that I would know exactly where I stand and what my first moves will be upon returning home in just four short weeks. If this is so, I would appreciate it if my subconscious would kindly inform me of its plans at its earliest convenience.
Knowing the tendency of excessive thoughtfulness to be somewhat haphazard, non-directional, and ephemeral I thought it might be a good and productive idea to keep a blog of my time spent here. A diary would serve equally as well, but I doubted my commitment to a private promise. With my public proclamation of a new blog post every two days, I truly believed at the beginning of my sojourn that I would be able to follow through with my promise and that I would remain just as motivated all the way to the end of my time here despite the difficulties I knew would come with such bold aspirations—and indeed for the first month I was effusively apologetic for posting even a day late. I was sustained by some sort of naïve hope that in this sort of writing I had hit on my true passion and calling and that this would sustain me throughout my time in France and that I might even attain some sort of increased readership over my time here. Hopeful—in the ironic and belittling notion of the word—to say the least, especially when I consult the statistics page that Wordpress so conveniently (i.e., maliciously and distressfully) provides for all site admins so that they can see just how few people read their sites.
Despite the slumping frequency of my posts and the disabused naïveté that initially helped inspire them, my posting has remained an emphatically important part of my time in France. It has been the first time I’ve written with such regularity and with such enjoyment in my life, even if only for my average daily audience of fifteen people (an undetermined number of which are actually me checking the status of my own site). It has encouraged me to do worthwhile things that I otherwise wouldn’t do, just for the mere fact that they would make a good story and to show others that I don’t lead a boring existence at a time of my life when it should be spent excitingly and positively; it has given me a nice, semi-regular retelling of my time abroad, which will be useful in the years to come as this singular time in my life becomes more distant and less crisply remembered; plus it has given me occasion to flex my intellectual muscle, which, when otherwise solely involved in the education of adolescents and the touristic exploration of France and Europe, might have tragically atrophied.
Keeping a blog is not something that I can see myself doing as a continual and regular hobby, but I would certainly consider doing it again and it is something that I would undoubtedly recommend to others who are in need of an outlet for self-expression and motivation. Doing things is good, but doing things to share with others is better yet.
Ponderingly yours,
JN
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
DEATH OF A CIVIL PARTNERSHIP; Luke Murphy
The Olympics is coming to the U.K. soon. Not only is Team G.B. ready to try and top its excellent showing in Beijing but Nation G.B. is ready to welcome the world’s athletes, media and God knows who else. They will be situated in London though of course. The Olympics have to have the heartbeat of proximity. But the flame is going to travel all over the country beforehand and hopefully everyone will enjoy the whole experience.
But the world will be beckoned to a country which has recently seen some of the worst rioting and civil disobedience in a generation and is wrestling with a power-wielding secessionist movement. I say this not with too much apprehension. The summer rioting in the U.K. was, it could be argued, successful because of unprepared and startled security and policing and if there is one thing that security and policing will not be this summer it is unprepared.
As for the secessionist movement? I mention the Scottish nationalist push for independence not to sneer but to simply point out that the Olympics are coming to a country that may not exist in a few years time.
The fight between union and independence is simply awkward for the UK. It already has an awkward relationship with its component parts which has always been based on assumption that it works, without now having to actually justify the status quo.
The U.K. struggles with a flag-waving system and traditional expressions of nationalism. If the component nations of the U.K. were to devise their political arrangements from scratch tomorrow then they would probably not choose union and they would probably not choose monarchy. Both can be seen as outdated. Monarchy for obvious reasons and union for similar democratic-based reasons which revolve around the inclusion of nations within the European project, the continuing redundancy of Westminster-based centralisation after the deepening of devolution and the good old fashioned right to self-determination.
So what can an independent Scotland expect? Newer nations tend to need particular symbols in order to express identity. This is amplified when the nation is born out of revolution and violence. France, the United States and Kosovo are cases in point.
France is not a new nation but its Republic is, and the need to preserve this Republic from whatever may be threatening it remains strong. This is an idea of constant-revolution exemplified by the activist, rebellious role played by Trade Unions which is probably inherent to France’s DNA. Laïcité is a good example of an identity-forging tool which helps create uniformity behind the idea that the still young Republic needs to be prioritised above everything else and thus France becomes the national religion.
Certainly apathy will linger, but for every action there is a reaction and the obvious and passionate notion of being French causes an equivalent ‘un-french’ mould. Therefore, one need only look at the recent history of France’s national football team make-up or indeed Presidential Elections to see criticisms of those who are ‘pas Français.’
The United States of America is the quintessential flag-waving system. France has had five Republics, the States but one, and I can’t guess what it would take for a second to emerge. The U.S. is both a young nation and a young state; a nation of immigrants. The notion of a melting pot, the national mythology of The American Dream and the unifying exercise of waving the flag are the simple and often sacred bonds which binds an otherwise disunited people. What’s more, the concept of being ‘un-American’ has been a near-constant in the nation's History.
Kosovo declared independence in 2008 and the country’s flag bears the outline of the nation’s borders. It is a symbol of the icons for which communities will reach in order to ascertain political and social solidarity. It is completely understandable because for Kosovo their borders tell the story of their independence.
But the U.K is the product of evolution. Its revolutions pitted brother against brother but radical change was always within a certain framework of London based monarchy and then parliament.
England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales exist concurrently by themselves but also in a union, an ambiguity formed slowly by erosion on the cliff-face of history and lives today fuelled by devolutionary compromise and a search for modern credibility.
Mentioning Ireland brings to light the harshest of bonds which have held the U.K. together over time. If Scotland were to secede than Britain would cease to exist as a political entity leaving Parliament with 550 MPs, 40 of whom would belong to Wales and Northern Ireland. Northern Irish Unionism would be severely weakened if their Scots brothers went their own way. Loyalty to a Britain which compromises many historical and living Celtic ties is one thing. Loyalty to England, London and the St. George’s flag could cause the relatively settled waters of Northern Ireland to stir.
If Britain were to divorce, then what future would await its most prized possessions like North Sea oil? What fate for the BBC, one of the most powerful media organisations in the world, and as a near as anything unifying effect on the British peoples?
However, the very ambiguous nature of the U.K. may be just cause for it to solidify its differences in its component parts. If constitutions were wrought with new credible and clear allegiances, democracy could be best served by a clear mandate from the people of each country, without lingering West-Lothian questions brewing resentment.
If we are to learn anything from the younger nations of the world it is to be careful when one creates the template for patriotism. It has been in vogue in the past decade to wrench from our guts a pure definition of ‘Britishness’ about which we could be proud and being unable to get much past Fish and Chips in such discussions perhaps is a hidden blessing.
Not being British enough is a criticism rarely heard. People are criticised for not being tolerant or not wearing a poppy for example. But these are individual criticisms and can be voiced individually without the McCarthyist debate stopper ‘un-British.’
New nations resplendent in independence will be impatient to forge the national identity that all new nations need. For every action there is a reaction and if new models of Scottishness or Englishness, Welshness or Irish-ness emerge friction is bound to be created in rejection of any obligation or conformity thus creating equivalent models and labels akin to being ‘un-American’ or ‘pas Français ’.
Such high constitutional and sociological matters will be of little interest to people from areas of strong ‘regional character’ like Cornwall or Liverpool, or the fans at an Old-Firm match, or Londoners who inhabit one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. What is certain is that if Scotland goes, it is probable nobody will have a clue what arrangements will be. Divorces are almost always messy. But the problem for Britain is, there was never really a wedding.
Alicia Enelespejo, poem
Пройдя по серой венской жиже
Увиделись мы в городе Париже
Где запахи смешались воедино
Под шёлковой строкой одежды Алладина
Где смех разбил хрустальные оковы,
Где запах шин,в брусчатку бьют подковы,
Уже не кровь – вино бежит по венам,
Уносят корабли в зеленой дымке Сены,
Где черные гиганты громко существуют,
Где Уайлд и Сартр нам сознание волнуют,
Где ноги уставали от развлечений духа,
Где вишня,расцветая,шептала сны на ухо.
Увиделись мы в городе Париже
Где запахи смешались воедино
Под шёлковой строкой одежды Алладина
Где смех разбил хрустальные оковы,
Где запах шин,в брусчатку бьют подковы,
Уже не кровь – вино бежит по венам,
Уносят корабли в зеленой дымке Сены,
Где черные гиганты громко существуют,
Где Уайлд и Сартр нам сознание волнуют,
Где ноги уставали от развлечений духа,
Где вишня,расцветая,шептала сны на ухо.
Monday, 5 March 2012
Hvala; poem by Rob Burton
Return blue sky film crew I
know three words
hot, are you surprised my
body hurt whole
by the weather that mak we
sleep in the after
-es us like dry stones -noon
said
a different way
gifts of
perfume fr life
doesn’t mean
-om three cities fires a sin living
-gle
() in Purgeraj spin
-ing
at night it is still cold
at
this time of year
and
will be like this for so
-me
times. (Single round)
unity unties freedoms The
moon is () waxing
the shapes of statues fed past
observatories
lead in 28 so I can sit in a by
palaces the streets are
poet’s lap shining the silver built back
brick by bri
bald seat there -ck
(lyrical)
people
are warm creators
here
talking verse expan
-sive what is your name
for
you like we have many
names
for us we have no
name for ourselves we
have a name for you
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Dispatches from the Occupy camp outside St Paul, by Will Deben
I’m sitting on the steps of the magnificent St
Paul’s Cathedral in London,
both hands in the air waving. It is a wave of approval to everyone present and
no one. Looking around I can see many others waving, also approving of what the
speaker is saying. A proposition is put forward for the General Assembly to
consider. One of the crowd crosses their forearms above their head to signify a
‘block’. He then takes to the microphone and addresses the crowd to explain his
objection. More objections and counter-proposals are made, until all are waving
hands in the air and a decision has been made by consensus. “This is what
democracy looks like”, to use one of the protestors chants.
I give my wave of approval to the wave of occupy protests
that spread like a mutant flu virus in time for winter. In London,
a city of noise where you rarely speak to a stranger, the camp outside St Paul’s has given the
city a human face. It’s a place to start discussions with strangers, to learn
new things (not trivial when University fees are tripling to £9,000 per year),
to feel part of a community and to regain a sense of being able to change
things. There is an optimism that together things can change. The banner ‘the
beginning is nigh’, sums it up well.
To me, it’s the beginning of a national, no a global,
conversation. The physical spaces that occupy have taken, act like magnets for
those who want change but don’t know how to achieve it, and open up a greater
space in public debate. In a few short weeks, the protest outside St Paul’s has achieved
more to shift attention on issues that really matter than years of persuasion
from Princes, Bishops and Ministers in cosy meeting rooms. But what are these
issues? After all, the main criticism seems to be, we don’t know what you’re
protesting about.
First, the clue is in the title. ‘Occupy London Stock
Exchange’ (and ‘Occupy Wall Street’) tell you that the anger is focused on the
financial system. Although there are a broad range of banners and causes
gathered in the camp, one common cause of concern is that the population (the
99%) is paying for the mistakes of the financial elite (the 1%). Three years
after the financial crisis blew up and the banks had to be bailed out with taxpayers’
money, there has been no real reform. The Vickers Commission set up to this in
the UK,
feel short of recommending the separation of retail and speculative activities
of banks and proposed introducing the reforms in 2019! Meanwhile, bankers keep
receiving their bonuses, which many see as a reward for failure.
This is inadequate government response leads us down another
line. There is a strong feeling that the current political systems have been
infiltrated by corporate and financial interests and no longer server the
general good. Radical reform is needed. The solutions are not easy in a world
of globalised markets and nationalised systems of regulation, but business as
usual is not an option either.
No authority encapsulates better the corporate influence on
government than the Corporation of the City of London whose land, almost by accident, part
of the camp rests on. On one level the Corporation is a local authority of London providing rubbish
collection and policing among other public services, on another, it is a
powerful, inconspicuous lobby for the interests of the financial sector. It
likes to call itself democratic, but as shown in Nicholas Shaxson’s excellent Treasure Islands,
the majority of votes are held by corporations rather than local residents. It
also enjoys ancient privileges – such as having an official lobbyist, the
Rememberancer, who sits in the House of Commons behind the Speaker – which it
wields in the interests of high finance. The crisis has shown us that those
interests are often opposed to the interests of the people.
The occupy protests have brought into focus this odd mix of
medieval pageantry and modern power. In a more general sense, they have acted
like a contact lens to clarify our view of the financial crisis, the real seat
of power, the role of politics and the media. This is just the beginning. Join
the conversation.
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