narcissi-silly blueerrrgggghhhh

This blog was named in acknowledgement of the tension that is wrestled between what a self-indulgent thing blogging is and the fact we can't escape from ourselves or our perspectives, since they're the only resources we actually have.
Some posts offer a critique of something, others a question for discussion and others still are more like journal entries or a record of thoughts that occur. This post is, of all my posts so far, the one that most clearly fits into the latter and most self-indulgent category.



I have many memories of being a young boy and being with my dad while he was shaving. I remember finding it fascinating; soap on his face in a specific shape, the razor sharp blade, the concentration and the way he would pull faces to get better access to different parts of his skin. I particularly remember not getting that part. I didn't understand why he couldn't just keep a straight face and shave plainly. I asked a couple of times to explain why, but his answer didn't really clear anything up for me.

Last night i shaved, and it was the first shave of my life where i realised that the faces i pull are not my dad's faces. I'm not offering my parentage up for question here, i'm very much a 'chip off the old block'; hence my surprise, i guess. In that moment i thought 'who's faces are these i'm pulling?'. I have no recollection of seeing either of my grandfathers shave, and suddenly i truly felt like part of a long, long lineage that reaches right back in time. I felt like the shaving faces i pull are someone else's, someone's shaving faces are survived in me, and then so must so much else be.

Obvious, i know, but i've not ever felt like that before. Almost embarrassingly, these feelings actually felt like quite a feat to have achieved, since i'm part of this culture of such individualism, disposability and immediacy. What is this? What's going on? Is it the first early groanings of middle age, is it me beginning to more fully face my mortality?

Excuse me, i have a vagina.

Forgive me, i'm a little peed off right now, i'm peed off by what i've seen in the news this past couple of days (no shock there then). This is specifically in relation to the goings on in the Church of England and its question of the appointment of female bishops.

'We can't have women as bishops because Jesus was a man and he picked 12 men to be his disciples, therefore... yadda, yadda, yadda, nonsense, nonsense, nonsense, where's my vision, where's my brain, just what kind of a God do i think we've got?'!!!!!!!!
Don't people see that this argument is akin to saying "we can't have women bishops because, in chess, the bishops are men, it just wouldn't be right. Sorry, my hands are tied" aaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *sticks tongue in bottom lip*

The other reasoning for not going ahead with it is about having men coming under the authority of women. Two things - make that three things:
1. You are thick!
2. Don't men already come under the authority of women if they are male and in the parish of a female priest?
3. Isn't the head of the Church of England the Queen? What then of the fact that the whole of the Church of England currently does come under the authority of a woman?

Oh yeah, one more thing, just a cheeky 'heads up': This may not quite be the end of the debate, whichever way things go; women archbishops, anyone?

Why can't the Church quite grasp that what's reported of these discussions is, like it or not, a missional and ambassadorial activity. What is this message of Christ and his Church being sent out?

Nb. If you disagree with me, please don't be offended by my manner. Instead i invite you to characature me and my position, we're robust enough.

Glastonburycherrygobyebye.

Well, Glastonbury was simply brilliant. Here is a flavour of my Glastonbury:

Thursday -
Arrive, walk a mile or so dragging my body weight (probably more) in stuff. Set up camp explore the site, rain, heavy rain, hard rain, mud, thick mud, Roisin Murphy. Highlight of the set was her doing 'Suspicious Minds'. The Levellers.

Friday -
Showers (as in rain, not as in washing) thick, thick mud. Alabama 3 Open their set with "Have you given your infants acid? If you haven't given your infants acid yet, now is the time to do it. Acid never hurt no infant, no harm, no way". Candi Staton- highlight 'You Got the Love'. Lupe Fiasco, Fun Lovin' Criminals, then get over to the John Peel stage for Reverend and the Makers. Followed this with a bit of mooching around and catching some of Kings of Leon at the pyramid.

Saturday -
Sunshine with patchy cloud, ground drying out, making the transition from wellies to flip flops about 2ish. Even getting some shirt-off action a bit later. Martha Wainwright, Seasick Steve and Crowded House at the pyramid - quite honestly a privalidge to be there, sheer joy. Bumming about for a bit, catching a couple of smaller acts and DJs. Los Camposinos, Human Vocal Orchestra, Last of the Shadow Puppets and the wonderfully, camply and playfully spiritual MGMT. Off to the other stage for (instead of Jay-Z) Massive Attack. Aside from several musical highlights was Grant Marshall getting involved in the discussion about Jay-Z headlining saying "There's all this nonsense around about hip-hop not fitting with the tradition of the festival, if you want tradition you might aswell go back to fu+£ing church. If you ask me, tradition with this place is hanging out with strangers, getting your head fu+£ing Banjaxxed!" 'Banjaxxed' a word not used often enough i don't think.

Sunday -
Dry and hot, continuing with the flip flop theme. Pack up and drag everything (minus some food and beer) back to the car. Spend some time at the other stage, regrettably starting with an almost embarrassing Newton Faulkner. Fortunately Scouting for Girls were suprisingly good and pick the whole thing up. Then the mighty Mark Ronson (though he should have been billed as 'Mark Ronson and friends'). More mooching, then to the pyramid for Leonard Cohen. He was, as is to be expected, awesome. The highlight of the whole festival: the moments during which the sun disappears over the horizon he does (and in fact so do the whole of the enormous crowd) 'Hallelujah'. Tears. - love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken 'hallelujah' - Finally The Verve to tie things off. They were brilliant too and obviously their highlight was 'bitter sweet symphony'. Then to the tent to pack up the last bit of stuff and off to the car to sit stationary in traffic for two hours and not make it back to my folks place until 5am!