Welcome to an age of sharing

“Capitalism, it turns out, will not be abolished by forced-march techniques,” wrote Paul Mason, in The Guardian – just over a year ago now. “It will be abolished by creating something more dynamic that exists, at first, almost unseen within the old system, but which will break through, reshaping the economy around new values and behaviours. I call this postcapitalism.”

Is it utopian to believe we’re on the verge of an evolution beyond capitalism? Read Paul Mason’s piece before you make up your mind.
Welcome to an age of sharing: illustration by Joe Magee

Welcome to an age of sharing: illustration by Joe Magee

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jul/17/postcapitalism-end-of-capitalism-begun

 

Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

painted pole (11 January 2015)

painted pole (11 January 2015)

A year ago – almost to the day – I opened a new document and gave it this name, but did no writing in it. My intention, if I recall correctly, had been to use Samuel Beckett’s words (from Worstward Ho) as the seed of something. Since then, the draft has seen the light of day more than once – but with no demonstrable result.

Along the way, I’ve written and photographed … and, from time to time, published. You might have noticed that this is my first post for the New Year … and that I’ve put nothing up since before Christmas. So Beckett’s text is apt. As ever.

Perhaps, I told myself, today, a new WordPress theme will inspire me. Well, yes … having tried a couple, I concluded that the old stuff looked awful in the new themes. So I’ve reverted to the old Tarski.

“Unchanged? Sudden back unchanged? Yes. Say yes. Each time unchanged. Somehow unchanged. Till no. Till say no. Sudden back changed. Somehow changed. Each time somehow changed.”  (Samuel Beckett, in Worstward Ho)

During the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been considering that |cross-ties| is fundamentally – or, at least, primarily – a photo-blog. And the photos I seem to like best are like this one. So that’s it … for now.

“Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” (ibid)

“Samuel Beckett is sui generis … He has given a voice to the decrepit and maimed and inarticulate, men and women at the end of their tether, past pose or pretense, past claim of meaningful existence. He seems to say that only there and then, as metabolism lowers, amid God’s paucity, not his plenty, can the core of the human condition be approached … Yet his musical cadences, his wrought and precise sentences, cannot help but stave off the void … Like salamanders we survive in his fire.” (Richard Ellman)


NOTES:

Worstward Ho is a prose piece by Samuel Beckett. Its title is a parody of Charles Kingsley’s Westward Ho!. Written in English in 1983, it is the penultimate novella by Beckett. Together with Company and Ill Seen Ill Said, it was collected in the volume Nohow On in 1989 (Wikipedia: Worstward Ho [stub]).

Colin Greenslaw has done an elaborated version of Worstward Ho (interpolated with what he calls ‘expansions’ of the original text), which can be found on the Samuel Beckett On-line Resources and Links Pages.

On the Empire of Lights web-site is a ‘picture series’ which photographer Tobias M Schiel has titled “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” (Samuel Beckett). Very good.

Spring cleaning

Posted on 12 September, the first of the two haiku presented here was my attempt at reconstructing the verse I believed I had written on 08 September, on a piece of paper I had subsequently misplaced. Having now (on 13 September) rediscovered the original, I am amused to see how poorly my memory had served me.

Brushed by tree branches
the moon, clear and bright, escapes
the billowing clouds.

Brushed by tree branches
another full moon, bright and
clear among the clouds.

(11 September 2014)

Shopping for new shoes – imagining new possibilities

pop-up shoe sale (13 July 2014)

pop-up shoe sale (13 July 2014)

My relationship with the I Ching was complex from the very beginning. Despite repeated re‑reading of the text, in translation and later in the original Chinese, I have never come across anything that looks much like wisdom. Meanwhile, on the internet, whole armies of crazies advanced their theories about the book: that it coded the deep structures of human DNA; that it provided mathematical proof of the Mayan prophecy of the ending of the world; that it might hold the secret to that holy grail of the physicists, a Theory of Everything.

Will Buckingham, in The uncertainty machine (Aeon Magazine)

Traditionally, the I Ching and its hexagrams were thought to pre-date recorded history, and based on traditional Chinese accounts, its origins trace back to the 3rd and 2nd millennia BCE. Modern scholarship suggests that the earliest layers of the text may date from the end of the 2nd millennium BCE, but place doubts on the mythological aspects in the traditional accounts. Some consider the I Ching the oldest extant book of divination, dating from 1,000 BCE and before. The oldest manuscript that has been found, albeit incomplete, dates back to the Warring States period (475–221 BCE). (from Wikipedia: I Ching)

Another great leap forward

Plans to upgrade my in-house storage arrangements took a great leap forward on Friday evening when (at extremely short notice) I took delivery of six units of storage furniture: four open cubes constructed from recycled wooden pallets, and two tall cabinets with adjustable glass shelves.

Zen trash (10 October 2010)

Zen trash (10 October 2010)

Acquired at a nominal price from a retail store not far from where I work, the items had been superseded by the recently-refurbished store’s new display units.

I could envisage how well suited to my specs these items would be, but the temporary bedlam triggered by their arrival chez moi, and the time and effort it would take to usher in the new order, pressed me to postpone the dinner scheduled for Sunday evening.

Out of town all day Saturday, I was not up to making a start on the re-org until Sunday morning, when suddenly everything seemed to clarify itself … and the bulk of the work is already done.

Most of what I want to retain fits well within the space structured by the open cubes, and it looks like there are nine cartons I can empty and dispose of. Three further cartons will, I anticipate, soon be collected by their owner (my daughter).

Strokes of havoc

hi-viz orange (02 May 2014)

hi-viz orange (02 May 2014)

The din I heard as I emerged from my bathroom turned out to be coming from a chainsaw wielded by one of the workmen the city council had sent to strip the ivy and other creepers from the green bank behind my apartment block. The devastation they’d wreaked appalled me, and I felt some concern for my own garden – lavender, roses, and camellias.

Scheduled to go into the city, I caught a bus whilst they were on their morning smoko, but before doing so I took a minute to squeeze off a few close-ups of the monarch butterfly disturbed and dislodged by the hack and rack of the two orange-clad, hi-viz-wearing workmen.

My garden had never been in danger, in fact … although the next day my nose dripped, my eyes itched … and, oh my, such sneezing fits! – the ivy, I’m guessing.

The title of this post and the phrase, “hack and rack”, come from Binsey Poplars by Gerard Manley Hopkins.