Top down view

Side view

Mutated younger sibling

And, for the first time, the younger sibling is about to flower. I don’t know what colour this one is. But it’s the oddest amaryllis I’ve ever seen; it just sprouts leaves all over.

Finally — here’s a panorama from a foggy day (that would have benefited of more, much more, photos adding vertical height).

Fog

It was (almost) pitch black as there are no street lights. My head torch desperately needs new batteries and hardly gave any light, so finding the statues at all was a quite fun experience. Because of the darkness I couldn’t see anything whatsoever through the viewfinder², and, given that the flash only fires on shutter release, autofocus was completely useless, too. So this was really a return to quite old-fashioned photography: Guesstimate or, if doing a more long range shot, pace out distance to object (Yay for Outdoor Education skills!), roughly select lens focal point and the flash settings and then pray a lot.

Given all that I am really, really happy how these turned out, especially as this is the first time I used an external flash, ever. I had only a few that were really badly out of focus. All in all there’s 49, but I cut them down to 20 for this post (plus a bonus empty beach one, at the end). I want to add some of these, as slightly more high-res versions, to the Liverpool gallery soon. With those that are very similar to each other which one is your favourite? I have ideas for titles, but usually need quite long until I am happy with them. Feel free to contribute on that end, as well, please.

You can hover your mouse over some of the images to get some extra explanations (via alt-text) now and then.

Reluctance

Bonus photo of nothing!

Starstruck

Alive.

Accessorise!.

Departure.

1. For those that don’t know: Crosby Beach features an installation by Antony Gormley — Another Place (links to wikipedia) — composed of 100 bronze figures facing and, depending on the tide, vanishing in the ocean.
2. I am using a Pentax *istDs … too old a model to have fancy things like Live View

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQsiLDAxud0

Lyrics²:

I see the sparkling little diamond on your hand
It’s plain to see that you’ve already got a man
I can see you’re not about to fall for any of my lines
I see the want to in your eyes
Deep in your smile there’s a quiet, soft desire
Like the embers of a once raging fire
You know I could light that fire again,
you know it isn’t wise
I see the want to in your eyes

Yes, it’s a 1974 song.  But there’s more than enough equally disturbing and wrong perceptions floating around in the accepted and every day. I am not providing further examples as this is not meant to be an in depth discussion. It’s more of a call to closely listen.

And before I will abruptly change the topic I have to highlight my absolute favourite of Andy Rehfeldt’s cover versions: His rendering of Louis Armstrong’s It’s a wonderful world.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFXP-eEVVXg

Which brings me to that part of the blog that is about summing up event’s in my life. As a memory, as a reminder, as, quite simply, a journal to look back to, eventually.³  Kyriaki committed suicide. Then, not long after, two of my friends had people close to them die, as well. I’ve been to Sweden — got to know and stayed with H. & M.⁴ — and participated in a writing retreat in Stockholm. My parents tried to reach Portugal’s Atlantic coast on bicycle from Germany, but had to abandon their journey more than 2000 km in, 10 km before reaching the Spanish border, when my father’s bicycle broke down. Damage that wasn’t possible to repair on the go. They took Spanish lessons for months, but are happy enough about the journey, despite not reaching Spain. P. moved out. M. moved in. I bought a chrysanthemum (yellow) and a begonia (red). M. and me rearranged the furniture in the lounge⁵.

I am trying to dig up background info to Kyriaki’s death. I know, through one of her friends, that she wanted me to have her bicycle. I am trying to retrieve that — as well as a George Perec’s L’espace d’espace and some writing samples I lent her. I’d planned to suggest a project combining Architecture and Writing, so L’espace d’espace was a sensible example. She’d introduced me to Bernard Tschumi’s The Manhattan Transcripts. I’ll miss our shared interest in the abstract and experimental arts — we explored the variety of exhibitions and installations that move through Liverpool so often.

My attempts to collect these things have all failed so far. The landlady never turns up at agreed upon dates and times. I am not too concerned that she will empty Kyriaki’s flat before I can retrieve them; I have lived in the same building for a while and know that she (the landlady) just is far enough on the disorganised side that “next week” often means “sometimes in the next few months”. Still — it’s unnerving. It’s painful sitting in front of that house, waiting.

I think I’ve spotted Kyriaki’s adopted cat vanishing into a boarded up house, once. She fed it, throwing cat food down from the kitchen window to the overgrown garden where this semi-wild cat often stayed during the day. The cat printed on the bag of the brand of cat food Kyriaki bought was a carbon copy of the cat she’d adopted.

I guess I will return to this topic in subsequent entries.

Chrysanthemum

Begonia

Planted Seedbomb

Planted Seedbomb

The Aquarium

Protect the Human

Rearranged Furniture

Rearranged Furniture

And finally — here’s the beginning of a post that’s been sitting in my draft’s for a long time. As I don’t remember what exactly the point was — I’ll just include it here:

People seem to like posting lists in their blogs. Lists of favourite books, films, movies, food, etc. I don’t really see the appeal — what’s a favourite and what not is changeable. If you’d ask for recommendations I’d give some, specific to what I know you like, something personalised. But to go with something that’s fashionable here is a list: The 115 last books (dvds / objects) I loaned out from university library. Tell me if that tells you anything meaningful.

1. Reporting and writing
2. Manufacturing consent
3. 9–11
4. Reporting for journalists
5. Practical newspaper reporting
6. Global journalism research
7. Essential reporting
8. The journalist’s handbook
9. News, gender and power
10. Associated Press guide to Internet research and reporting
11. Investigative journalism
12. Photography
13. News narratives and news framing
14. Intelligence in an insecure world
15. Rogue states: the use of force in world affairs
16. Broken flowers
17. Revengers tragedy
18. Alien
19. Environmental education
20. Outdoor education
21. The history of British birds
22. Atlas of the breeding birds of Lancashire and North Merseyside
23. Interdisciplinary teaching through outdoor education
24. Outdoors with young people: a leader’s guide to outdoor activities the environment and sustainability
25. The outdoor classroom
26. Mountaincraft and leadership
27. The mountaineering handbook
28. Fearing Sellafield
29. Politics: an introduction
30. Human rights and the environment
31. Chomsky
32. Britain’s nuclear waste
33. Nuclear power
34. NUCLEAR OR NOT ?
35. Management of nuclear waste
36. The human impact on the natural environment
37. Climate change 2001
38. Nuclear energy
39. Renewable energy
40. Global environmental issues: a climatological approach
41. Environmental philosophy
42. The international politics of nuclear waste
43. Adventure therapy
44. Therapy within adventure
45. Theory and practice of counselling & therapy
46. Counselling
47. Exploring islands of healing
48. Whose journeys?
49. Counselling skills and theory
50. The Dangers of Sustainable Development
51. An ozone-free zone?
52. Can capitalism go Green?
53. Who’s Afraid of Global Warming?
54. The competitive destination
55. Global tourism
56. Tourism in the Antarctic
57. Critical issues in tourism
58. Adventure tourism
59. Exploring the boundaries of adventure therapy
60. Tourism and the environment
61. Toproping
62. How to rock climb
63. How to rock climb
64. How to run a marathon
65. Co-operative inquiry
66. Advanced rock climbing
67. Tourism and development in mountain regions
68. Mountain environments
69. Wilderness therapy for women
70. Recreation ecology
71. Habitat conservation
72. Qualitative research interviewing
73. Grounded theory in practice
74. Countryside recreation site management
75. Reflexivity and voice
76. Headset (computer)
77. Introduction to counseling
78. Mountaincraft and leadership
79. EVERYDAY METEOROLOGY
80. Mountaineering
81. The mountain skills training handbook
82. Headset (computer)
83. Headset (computer)
84. Modern environmentalism
85. Teaching green
86. Contested natures
87. The environment in international relations
88. Gamesters’ handbook 3
89. Effective leadership in adventure programming
90. Creative games in groupwork
91. Becoming critical
92. Exploring the boundaries of adventure therapy
93. Experiential learning
94. Effective leadership in adventure programming
95. Social research methods
96. Eco-socialism
97. Environmental education
98. The Penguin dictionary of sociology
99. Ecological applications
100. Environmental sociology
101. Environment and politics
102. Qualitative data analysis
103. Using computers in qualitative research
104. Treatment effectiveness of wilderness adventure therapy
105. The end of nature
106. Woman and nature
107. What is nature?
108. You and the environment
109. Geography: an integrated approach
110. Glaciers and glaciations
111. Fundamentals of the physical environment
112. Glaciers and landscape
113. An introduction to physical geography and the environment.
114. Winter skills
115. Karst geomorphology and hydrology

1. Yes — this is all really only about pushing another youtube musician. With Rehfeldt it’s all about the arrangements and pretty much perfect audio/video synchronisation.
2. Original song & video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2aeRg_yMSE
3. I have re-designed my webpage, as you can see. I am not done with that, yet, but I have, in the process, imported all the posts from my two livejournal blogs. At the moment these are still private as I have to sift through them and decide what I am ok with sharing here in this far more public space. But there will be more entries here eventually. Keep checking the archives. The re-design will hopefully also inspire more frequent updates again.
4. I’ll answer your e-mail, soon. Promise!
5. Kyriaki helped me move in here, a year ago.

Contrast that to the experience of being a postman in Germany, which means management far removed from the actual workers and whose “staff training” consists of telling it’s delivery operative that they are nothing more than glorified advertising dispensers, a largely abusive public and having to meet strict averaged delivery times (1 second per letter, 3 seconds per package plus a blanket travelling time added). These are so tight that, in the depot that I worked at for a while, some of the older postmen physically didn’t manage. The rest of their family helped out, unpaid, unofficially, just so that their spouse/parent met the targets set. In Germany the family name of whoever occupies a house is displayed on the outside in addition to the house numbers. The expectation is that postmen must have memorized the first name of who lives where in their district, but also that they know/remember if some member of a family that used to live in a particular house has moved elsewhere. If you don’t remember, but post a letter, there will be complaints. Here in England houses only have numbers and there’s no indication who lives where; that alone makes the job so much more enjoyable. It is a good transitional job. Which is where I am. Stability. I am not quite sure where I’ll go next, yet.

Today is the last week I am on anti-depressants after a two-year period. Over the last three weeks I have stepped down dossage in agreement with my GP. I have graduated from my BsC in Outdoor and Environmental Education degree with a first (but will miss the graduation cermony as I am in Sweden at that time) and am half-way through my MA in Writing. The first feels like the biggest achievement among the three. I’d like something big to happen next, somehow.

What is the purpose of an online journal? I am not really sure. This one turned out to be a form of public diary. I don’t keep any note of the things I don’t want to share though, so these are all the (sporadic) notes on my life I do keep. Keeping a diary is, I guess, a lot about the implied promise of being able to turn back pages somewhere at a non-descript future moment in time looking back and rediscovering what one had forgotten. Excuse me while I sum up some recent and not so recent events. Right now Iceland is shutting down modern transportation for the second time this year, as volcanic ash-clouds endanger fragile air-plane turbines. The biggest recession since the 1930’s has arrived in the UK, but no-one really seems to give a damn; some traditional shops that were part of “British culture died”, but live goes on. There’s been one of the wettest and one of the coldest periods in England since weather records began. Cue this amazing satellite image that made it’s rounds. I am listening to PJ Harvey’s The Whores Hustle and the Hustler’s Whore, not through my headphones for a change, but through the computer speakers that my mother gave me on an extended loan and that are, mainly, usually, in the lounge for our frequent film nights.

We can’t decide on films most of the time. We use a roundabout method instead. There’s a pile of about 30 DVD’s in the lounge, with a tupper-ware style small plastic container on top containing an adequate amount of paper cut into roughly equal squares with numbers written on them then folded over. Our own random-number generator. With smaller decisions (like — do we have Pizza today or not? Who’s first to put up washing?) a simple coin flip is enough. We is P., my flat mate, and me. P.‘s an Outdoor Ed. Student, in his last year. And, incidentally, a postman, too. I feel like having some vanilla icecream.

The apartment. I’ve meant to introduce it months ago. We are in the middle of the town. There’s a photo of the view from my desk below. We are living among seagulls¹. Quite frequently one of them lands on the windowsill infront of my window. They don’t seem to be overly aware of their surroundings when landing. Only after their landing do they look up, see me, hesitate for a moment startled((These are massive birds. Their wings span extends beyond the width of my window.)) and flying off again. Just as frequently one or the other is (not very happily?) pecking at one of the cut out cardboard fishes we stuck to the lounge window (aka our aquarium). Other notable happenings include another completed headsound project. The first was an exploration of Liverpool through sound, the second a stop-motion animation (this is a rough and incomplete cut) and the third a VJing/DJing performance where we plugged in and used as many devices as we could [two laptops, a portable play station, a wii-mote, a set of digital-turntables, a light-board and a smoke machine]. We weren’t actually allowed to use the smoke-machine within FACT and set off the fire alarm during practise. There’s a fourth project in the plans for this summer.

And the rest, as they say, are photos.

View from my desk

Spraypainting Fishes for a Liverpool Studen Amnesty protest agains Shell

Justin and Julie

Well hello there! (A mannequin in some clothing shop in Liverpool.)

. It’s a tie.

1. Cue P.J. Harvey’s Seagulls track on her Uh Huh Her album.

The camera makes everyone a tourist in other people’s reality, and eventually in one’s own.

- Susan Sontag

My tele lens died. Well — at least I have the feeling it is beyond fixing now. I managed to repair the shutter when it collapsed a while back, but this is more serious. The problem is I can’t check — I haven’t found a way to access the part of the lens that I’d need to look at. Without knowing how it is constructed I’d describe it as it having broken apart — the focus ring at the back no longer moves the front part. Rather — the two have become seperate. But this is no good description and I can’t offer a better one. But I think I got one last good use out of it. All, but one, of the lenses I have have do not have modern features like auto-focus and the like. It became a bit of an extra challenge getting things in focus as the tele was already begining to fail, badly. That is I had to press the lens backwards to get it to focus (ouch, nose), and even that only worked occasionally. I am rather happy with the results, however.

On Saturday a set of free concerts in the Docks started, focusing on African Music. Liverpool-based Zimbabwan ‘Hohodza Band’, ‘Groupe Lolou’ from Senegal and ‘Oumou Sangaré’ (Mali). Here some photos in no particular order; more can be found in the gallery:

Groupe Lolou

Groupe Lolou

Hohodza Band

Hohodza Band

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

I’ve seconded (more) and lead (less) a few climbs during these three days — and it worked well, at first: No trace of anxieties that hindered me on previous outings and generally just having a good time. I know the basics well enough, by now, can place (protective) gear, construct anchors/belays … even if it’s a little slow and clumsy at times. I still feel that I want to do more of this, that being out there, having those experiences is … well what I search for in life. That by and large Outdoor activities are my thing. I was having fun. But then.

Third day was a visit to Holyhead mountain. This is a sea-cliff like mountain close to the ocean, that requires one to walk up a steep scree slope to the base of the rock face where the climbing routes begin. It looks a little like a minutre version of Ayer’s Rock in as much as it rises out of flat ground surrounding it, quite suddenly. And then … hello darkness my old friend²: Anxiety. Started up on the scree slope where my imagination ran away with me. It wasn’t any more dangerous or difficult or complicated than ground I’ve covered in the past. Even the routes ahead weren’t more difficult than what I’d done the days before, just more exposed. Being afraid of the scree under my feet suddenly slipping away, or me slipping not finding the ground. Possible, yes, probable not very. And even if: Heather with it’s strong roots covering the ground, loads of bolders, things to grab in case. Anxiety persisted. I didn’t climb that day. Needed to tie myself in just to belay at the ground of the climb. And (remember this is part of the assessment days) the suggestion by Duncan (the lecturer with the small group of four that day) that I descend back to a ledge and call it a day.

And — as so often that coldness that comes with that, a chill down to the bones, where no amount of sunlight is warm enough. But then. It was a glorious day and it is an amazing place. I rested on that ledge, high enough to see the ocean curve on the horizon, no cloud, blue sky (a first hint of tanned skin, now days later). I built a minature stone circle on that ledge that was eventually crushed by a rope from the sky. I’d wished I’d packed my camera, which I had considered while packing, but didn’t in the end.

It was in that moment’s flight between the picture and the canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child. Such she often felt herself — struggling against terrific odds to maintain her courage; to say: “But this is what I see; this is what I see,” […] “It suddenly get’s cold. The sun seems to give less heat,” she said, looking about her, for it was bright enough, the grass still a soft dreep green, the house starred in its greenery with purple passion flowers, and rooks dropping cool cries from the high blue.“

–Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

Foghorns in the distance, as mist was over the ocean and this is a shipping lane, including those high-speed ferries crossing from Ireland to Wales and England. There were dolphins playing out in the ocean. And later in the day six sea-kayaks, quite likely other OEE students as they were supposed to be out there that day. There are sea cliffs in that area, which rank among the most scenic but also most difficult climbs in the UK — as the tide comes in you can’t escape other than climbing all the way. These cliffs are closed for climbers during the summer as they are the nesting place of some 10.000 birds or so. And then, there’s what I imagine Virginia Woolf’s Lighthouse to look like. I doesn’t require a boat — there’s a bridge, but still:

If she finished it tonight, if they did go to the Lighthouse after all, it was to be given to the Lighthouse keeper for his little boy, who was threatened with a tuberculous hip; together with a pile of old magazines, and some tobacco, indeed, whatever she could find lying about, not really wanted, but only littering the room, to give those poor fellows, who must be bored to death sitting all day with nothing to do but polish the lamp and trim the wick and rake about on their scrap of garden, something to amuse them. For how would you like to be shut up for a whole month at a time, and possibly more in stormy weather, upon a rock the size of a tennis lawn? she would ask […]

–Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

Mind you — it is a beautiful place, but that’s the first description of the lighthouse I came across browsing the pages. I will have to use other’s photos instead of mine for illustration, below³. I’ve scrapped just below the passing mark for the assessment (35%) based on my climbing the first two days. It’s only part of the module mark and I can compensate that. But the point is … as I said in the review discussion later, what I need is people to go climbing with, but it’s so hard to find people that I don’t hold back, on those days I can’t, but that choose to climb to a level that’s challenging as well. I hope it’ll fix itself some day.

South Stack Lighthouse

South Stack Lighthouse & Sea Cliffs

Holyhead Mountain

And that was the last big field trip with the course I’ll be part of. No-one, unlike those other days, felt like returning home. We usually just focused on going back quickly, everyone yearning for their home after a week or so out. No … it was a holiday like feeling these days, for everyone, I think. I’ll miss them days.

1. in translation — Species of Spaces and Other Pieces
2. I was nicknamed “the sound of silence” back in high school.
3. Click on them to go to the source pages

I handed in my dissertation

And yeah, there was something I wanted to say.

…

Never mind.

I already forgot many of those that I wanted to note down somewhere — no blog nearby, no time, whatever. Some stuck to mind though … and given I spend a good bit of time on busses, that’s the main focus right now.

#1: Not uncommon is the on the job chat. Not with a passenger, but a friend that happens to pass. The bus coming to a sharp stop, and a 10 minute discussion between driver and passer-by through the open door, while the passengers stoicly wait. No-one’s complained yet.

#2: Or that busdriver that reads a book while working … a few lines every red light (and a sip of tea). He’s bearded, wears glasses. Enjoys thrillers.

#3: The magic all day ticket that passes from passenger to passenger. Day-passes are valid an unlimited amount until midnight of the day of purchase, and, if you do more than three bus trips, cheaper than individual tickets. So frequently people just pass them on once they are done, and a single ticket transports many, many different people as it (I’d guess) is passed on from person to person, wherever the last person using it alights. I just got one of these (it was bought at 10:04 in the morning, it reached me by 21:03) today. From a complete stranger I’ll never meet again, as usual.

#4: I’ve mentioned pedestrian area musicians before. Nothing says Liverpool as the drummer and guitarist playing decently “hard” metal at a central spot of the shopping area. During christmas shopping time, with candy-cotton music oozing out of anything even remotely commercial. In the middle of a stressed out over-crowded shopping frenzy. Plus — they drew an audience!

#5:

Midnight, mid-January

——————————————————————————————————

I am late with my dissertation. So late, in fact that I won’t make the deadline. I am in the middle of crunching out interviews and transcribing, still. I am getting somewhere, though … and there are nice results up to this point. I’ll meet my tutor Monday. Let’s see what happens.

But because of that all leisure activities are off. I missed a Merchant of Venice performance by Propeller (an all male Shakespeare company) that I’d bought a ticket for (I’ve been told it was great, too ) — and skipped today’s Headsound session at FACT, too.

Joshua had to be put to rest early last week after discovering that he’d developed cancer (that had spread from liver to lungs). This is the first time I mention him here, mainly because I posted so little over the last year; he’d become a quite important part of my life for the short time I’d known him. I’d spent New Year over at Alex place, as my landlady finally got someone to rewire the house and fix electricity; there was no power here for a few days. Add to this that my dissertation refused to be written and gave me a hard time — I needed to get away from sitting at home alone. He’d been part of the audio recordings I did as part of the Headsound project at FACT — providing “dog noises” mixed in, here and there.

Josh had been sick for a while, unable to keep food down, losing weight. We ended up staying in on New Year’s eve to not risk exposing him to the freezing conditions and brought him to the vet the day after. They thought it was just a virus, initially. So this is for a dog that kept his playful nature even when terminally ill. That — as most animals — just been there and kept others well. Those last few nights he swapped between Alex’ and the guest room I was using, sleeping on the footend of our beds — a few hours here, then there.

I am glad I had the privilege of having him in my life and be allowed to share some time.