We are going to Ujjain.

The word Ujjain brings to mind Mahakavi Kalidas.

In pure lyrical quality, he is way ahead of all the poets of the world. Shakespeare is a better dramatist, a philosopher and an observer of character. But when it comes to poetic charm, I vote for Kalidas. Upama Kalidasassia. His simile is superb. Shakuntalam, a love story, has been translated into several Indian languages.

According to legend, he was an idiot, but was blessed by Kali and became Kalidas. The Kali temple, where the poet received the blessings of the Goddess, is still there. He was one of the nine Jewels who were guests of the King Vikramaditya.

Ujjain is famous for Shiva as Mahakal and is one of the places where Kumbhamela is held.

It is well connected by rail and road.

Tank/O Guru Caroline Issa and her team love fashion. So much so, they created Because, an online magazine on their musings. But it’s not your run-of-the-mill, cut-and-paste source. It’s more like a buyer’s guide to what’s hot in fashion, accessories, shoes and all things related that allows you to click-to-buy directly to the item’s retailer. Each entry is composed of fashion shoots, video uploads and commentary giving the magazine an exclusive angle.  The Because team are a specialized group of fashion industry leaders; it’s their unrelenting job to know what’s hot. Because they said so, you should trust them.

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve been unbearably busy. A combination of assignments, the Observer (www.universityobserver.ie) and general other things like friends and the boyfriend mean that I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone blog.

So, what’s been going on? I’ve been news editor-ing away, which has been the most fun. The guys at the paper have become like a second family, sad as that sounds, because we spend so much time together. It’s weird that we’re done for a while, but it’ll be a nice break. Although, I am still doing my essays in there. I just can’t resist that beautiful iMac!

I’ve been getting really into a few songs recently. I am a lover of everything, but I really can’t resist some groovy pop. Right now, I’m dancing in my jammies to Tik Tok by Ke$ha. People who put symbols in their names are annoying but the girl’s got swagger! I am also enjoying FEAR by Ian Brown, Meet Me Halfway by the Black Eyed Peas and Tchaikovsky ballet pieces as usual. I’ll never stop loving Swan Lake.

I’ve been cycling a lot all over my area of South Dublin. Taxis are mercenary. They seem to enjoy almost hitting me. It can get scary, but cycling is worth it. I feel fitter and my belly is shrinking. Not being in the office eating bad things and takeaway can also only be good for me! Funnily enough, both Tik Tok and FEAR feature bicycles. Hmm…

I’m not going to pretend that I am anything other than ecstatic to see the Tories fall so dramatically in the Ipsos MORI poll in yesterday’s Observer.  Only six points behind Labour on 37 % as opposed to our 31%, this is surely a blow for Cameron and his Conservatives.  Some have claimed it is a rogue poll, but that has yet to be seen.  As of now, I am prepared to believe the findings of a respected polling organisation.

All of this begs the question why.  Why are the Tories going down and why is Labour recovering?  The Glasgow North-East result is clearly in the frame as a by-election win traditionally boosts the winning party’s standing.  There is also the excellent news about the economy, and this Ipsos MORI poll shows that 46% of the public now believe the economy will perform better over the next year compared to 23% who think it will deteriorate and 28% who believe it will stay the same.

So we have two powerful reasons for people to go away from the Tories and come to Labour.  The other, I believe, is the disarray shown by Cameron, Hague et al on Europe and their policies relating to the EU.  The Tories’ EU policies quite simply lack credibility .  As a veteran of Labour in the 1980s, please believe me when I know an impossible and unworkable policy when I see one.

Having watched Cameron on the Andrew Marr show on Sunday and reflected on what he said during the past day, I am absolutely convinced that Europe is the Tories’ achilles heel.  It is the 2010 Tory version of Labour’s 1987 idea that nuclear disarmament coupled with an increase in ground troops was a viable option for the UK, a policy which would also allow us to fulfil our international commitments.

The voters twigged Labour then just as, I believe, they are twigging the Tories now.  Just in case you missed it or found the rhetoric got in the way of what they are actually saying, David Cameron and William Hague state that in the absence of their being able to hold a referendum on the Lisbon Treaty they will:

1)  Introduce legislation to require a referendum whenever there is a treaty change in the EU

and

2)  Renegotiate those parts of the existing treaties and agreements the Tories don’t like

I don’t think 1) is much of an issue.  After all, should the Tories ever be in a position to negotiate changes to EU treaties they, as the governing party, would have a vested interest in the referendum going through.  This is, therefore, a fundamentally dishonest piece of rhetoric in that the Tories are only promising referendums on their own laws and agreements.

2) This is where the Tory policy becomes very difficult, if not downright impossible.  It is this which is not credible and unworkable.  It is not a credible policy for the very real reason that treaties and other EU agreements are negotiated very strongly down to the last detail by all the member states before agreement.  Every member state is therefore irrevocably committed to the final version.  Since all member states have been through the process, every single one of them is in the same position.  In most instances a change of government in a member state would not be enough to make that country wish to overturn such a treaty or agreement   

So I am truly baffled by exactly how the Tories feel they can change those aspects of the EU treaties they don’t like.  Even if there were one or two other member states who wished to make amendments to existing agreements that would not be enough to change things across 27 member states.

Changing the EU treaties amounts to constitutional change, something which generally requires significant momentum and a large measure of consensus.  I would simply like to draw your attention to the campaign for proportional representation for the  House of Commons.  It ‘s been a long haul and we are only just beginning to see some movement.  Another example may be the challenge the Labour Party faced in getting rid of Clause Four.  These are by no means frivolous examples; constitutional change at whatever level is tough and it requires a significant groundswell to get off the ground.  

As someone involved in European politics, I see no chance of the Tories achieving the promises they are currently making to the British people regarding treaty change in the EU.  They are peddling policies which, since they are not credible, amount to being dishonest.

The one thing David Cameron was very clear about on the Andrew Marr show was that the Conservatives will not take Britain out of the European Union, something they now could do under the changes introduced by the Lisbon Treaty.  The Tories really have put themselves between a rock and a hard place – in the EU which they detest yet  not at all able to change those things they don’t like – a vulnerable achilles heel indeed.

There was some buoyant activists today in the Tooting Labour Party after the exciting news in today’s Observer regarding Labour’s improved showing in the latest opinion polls. The Conservative lead has dropped to just 6 points according to the latest Ipsos MORI poll. While 6 points is still a loss, it equals a hung parliament, which is obviously a better scenario than a complete Labour wipeout. But it could also be just the start of a fight back.

While I don’t think I can add that much more to the analysis of the result by Andrew Rawnsley and the UK Polling Report’s digestion, I can say that this is certainly going to lift the mood of the Labour faithful. This is going to lead to a more hopeful, and therefore more engaged Labour base.  Having people on the street, knocking on doors is vital and the more that come back to the fold because defeat is no longer inevitable, the better.

Hopefully, it will also lead to a more focused leadership, less rumours of a putsch and a more determined party overall.

The latest poll from Ipsos MORI in today’s Observer gives me some cheer, even if it is just one poll and could be rogue.

Labour, according to the poll, still trail the Conservatives by 6%; this is an improvement on recent polls and if reproduced in a General Election would leave us as the largest party in a hung Parliament.

We are in the last six months of a third-term government, and unpopularity is the norm in these situations. This has been the case for over a year as, fair or not, the Government takes a hit for almost every bit of bad news.

What is not happening is the Tories are racking up huge leads in poll after poll. I am not about to predict the General Election result, but if I was David Cameron I would be feeling uncomfortable. Whilst it is true that his party have had consistent leads for quite some time now, this looks like it is down to Labour being unpopular rather than any enthusiasm for Cameron or the Conservatives.

What I hope this poll does do is bury any speculation over whether Gordon Brown is about to be deposed. I have long argued that it is policies that count. The Conservatives have no answers for the big questions being asked at the moment, and the cautious optimism being expressed about the economy are proof that Gordon and Alistair Darling have called it right on every decision taken regarding the economy.

The figures are Conservative 37%, Labour 31%, and Liberal Democrat 17%. Of course I wish our standing was better, and that we had a lead. But, given the circumstances, I will take this for now.

Listen to a Londoner. This is a weekly post where people who live (or have lived for a while) in London answer a few questions about the Big Smoke. If you fit the bill and want to be interviewed, give me a shout at littlelondonobservationist@hotmail.co.uk. Always looking for new victims volunteers….

Lucy McDonald, 25
(Usually, it’s 10 questions, but Lucy likes questions, so she answered 30. Bonus.)

Lucy is from the most rural county in England but her soul is a Londoner. She likes tea, merry-go-rounds, walking along the Thames, lists, the radio, food and getting dressed several times a day. She works as an admin monkey at a language school in Bloomsbury.

LLO: How long have you lived in London?
LM: I accidentally say I’ve lived here for five years, despite the fact a year of that was spent in Mexico. Actually I similarly used to answer ‘?Donde vives?’ in Mexico with ‘Londres’ for an irrationally long number of months. I’ve known I wanted to live here since I was eleven.

LLO: Where are you from originally?
LM: The shire, the middle of nowhere, where England meets Wales, the green and pleasant and beautiful land, the most rural county in England – Herefordshire.

LLO: Best thing about London?
LM: It’s still possible for me to get excited about the little things – being able to jump on the tube and end up in a place that looks and feels completely different to the one I’m in now, popping and seeing the Houses of Parliament and all the sites tourists come to see. The many and glorious parks, the way people dress, the interests people have – a general and indescribable Londonness that is strongest I think at Sunday brunch time, when Saturday revellers are in recovering in cafes, wandering the streets and dressed in their most interesting togs.

LLO: Worst thing about London?
LM: Being ground down by the insularity and commuting. The fact that travelling from one side to another – east to west, north to south – seems like an epic challenge worthy of Tolkein. Light pollution and other grubbiness. The 25 bus, expense, Victoria Coach Station. Being from elsewhere in England, it can be irritating that people from the South East don’t believe in any realistic sense that the rest of the country exists. Most bad things in London are the same in the big metropolitan cities and the mindset that puts you in. The best-worst thing about it, London is a difficult place to leave.

LLO: North, south, east or west?
LM: East. No question. 

LLO: Best restaurant?
LM: Moro.

LLO: Best shop?
LM: Atlantis Art Materials, Hanbury Street. I like to peer in the windows of the rope shop and the umbrella shop in Bloomsbury, and Blade Rubber Stamps.

LLO: Best place to escape the city?
LM: Hampstead Heath or the top of Senate House Library, depending if you need glorious openness or protective dusty rooms and books.

LLO: 2012 Olympics – stay or go?
LM: I don’t know and can’t decide. Is that significant?

LLO: How do you spend your time on the tube?
LM: Reading. If I can find another participant I like playing tube chicken, empty tube platforms allowing.

LLO: Most random thing you’ve seen in London.
LM: Somebody stopping to help a stranger – tee hee – gallows humour.

LLO: Best place to catch a gig?
LM: The Union Chapel, Islington

LLO: Best local band?
LM: The Correspondents

LLO: Favourite book, song or film about London?
LM: 1599 by James Shapiro. 

LLO: Favourite London discovery?
LM: Signing up to go and see free recordings of radio and TV programmes, Sam Smiths Pubs and the many retro nights.

LLO: Best place to spend a Sunday afternoon?
LM: Ah, I’m too predictable – Brick Lane.

LLO: Best museum or gallery?
LM: Tate Modern during the week, otherwise The Museum of Childhood. It’s not my favourite, but if you haven’t been you should go to The John Soane Museum. I like to sit in the big leather chairs in the National Gallery to read.

LLO: Favourite market?
LM: Predictability reigns, Brick Lane Sunday – the Upmarket, Spitalfields and everyone along the edge of the lane.

LLO: Give us a funny London story.
LM: I’ll cheat and copy and paste from previous writing –
Waiting on the platform at Leicester Square for the train to come, and a drunken suit, pink shirt, grabs my hand and begins to twirl me around the platform, asks what my dance would be, if I could dance any, here on the platform, between the yellow line and the commuters and the couples. I decline. He presses my hand to his heart and asks my name. I guess his instead. It’s not Charles and it’s not Jim. He takes my hand, asks my name, asks if I’ve seen the most recent exhibition at the British Museum. He tells me the last exhibition was a disappointment. Not enough artefacts. Central London has a different class of drunk.

LLO: Most influential Londoner?
LM: Can’t think of one person.

LLO: Best London magazine, newspaper or website?
LM: C’mon – the national British media is solely a London set of magazines and newspapers – so the Observer on Sunday.

LLO: If you were to dress up as one of the tube station names for a costume party, which would you be?
LM: High Barnet. My hair loves a good backcomb.

LLO: Best time of year in London?
LM: Impossible question – Autumn on Hampstead Heath, Christmas in Covent Garden, Summer in Russell Square. 

LLO: Best place for a first date?
LM: Dates? In London? Don’t people just get drunk and fall on each other inappropriately?

LLO: First place to take a visitor?
LM: To St Pauls, across the wobbly bridge, to South bank and along to the London Eye. Or a trip to The Globe.

LLO: Favourite place to be on a Saturday night?
LM: The George Tavern, Commercial Road. And as far as possible from Leicester Square.

LLO: Best and worst things about tourists?
LM: Worst thing – they get in the way and behave as if the place you live has been placed there for their own enjoyment, loud voices, big bags and not getting out of the way on the tube. Best thing – they talk loudly and think they can’t be understood so always good for an eavesdrop.

LLO: Boris is…
LM: …a muppet.

LLO: What would you change about the city if you had the power to do so?
LM: Not sure – I want to say make it smaller and cleaner and cheaper, but it wouldn’t be London anymore. I would take the violence out of it, and (sorry for the nod to Boris) I do hate the bendy buses.

LLO: Most interesting recent news story.
LM: Anything told to me by John Humphrys as I drink my first cup of tea in the morning.

 Thanks Lucy!

As my regular readers (both of you) know, the short story prequel to The Ligan of the Disomus I decided to write in November, “The Crow and the Kinnebeck,”* has reached 4000 words at perhaps one fifth to one fourth complete, and is stubbornly insisting on becoming a novelette. At the least.

The first of eight parts is up now for my First Readers, God bless ‘em, but for everyone else let me present a world cloud based on that first part, courtesy of wordle.net.

_

* I’m under the impression that keeping the title inside quotes, rather than italicized, will convince it that it is indeed a short story. You know, like trimming a bonsai.

Malcolm and I have a comic in the Observer! Web version updated at least every two weeks, hopefully more regularly as schoolwork settles down. I do the drawing, he does most of the writing. If you don’t get it, you’re probably reading it at about one level too shallow (try applying “sarcasm” filter … a lot of people seem to miss this and then conclude that we’re really into Fred Durst and zombies).

Today, as I pound out some more pages for “The Crow and the Kinnebeck,”* I just want to throw out a blog entry chock full of agent and author advice. 

For example:

Nathan Bransford explains how watching “reality” television can teach you about publishing.

Janet Reid tells frustrated writers how they can avoid ever getting another depressing rejection letter.

Jane at Dystel & Goderich posted a complaint about publishers that made me cringe to think that the people I may have to do business with might not have a clue what they’re doing.

As Jane puts it:

I don’t know why I still find it astonishing when publishers tell me they are “only looking for big books,” that mid-list titles aren’t on their radar. How do they know what’s going to be a big book? … there are literally hundreds of books that were seriously underestimated by publishers but that turned into huge bestsellers.

On the other hand, agent Kristin Nelson confesses to turning down a good manuscript from a published author because “really good might not be good enough.”

Jennifer Jackson brings more “Letters from the Query Wars” with a list of query letter superstitions held by writers and agents.

Jenny Bent (why do so many of these have “J” names?) launches from praise for Jane Austen to advice for writers to pump their stories full of plot.

Eric at Pimp My Novel reveals the sad truth about remaindered books.

And finally, Rachel Gardner offers up some (possibly) bad advice.

_

* UPDATE @0900: at 3000 words and not quite one quarter done, TCATK is threatening to burst the bonds of a short-storyhood and become the dreaded “novelette.” :-\

First, a brief note about my blog’s header. No, this isn’t a travel blog…although I may wander there occasionally. But traveling, as well as words, is one of my passions. So I’ll be changing out travel pics there from time to time. This one is taken during a too brief stay at Lochmara Lodge, on the Marlborough Sound, on the South Island of New Zealand. I was finishing up a 50-plus mile hike along the sound, and it was pure heaven. Trust me: If there is ONE place that’s a must visit in New Zealand (OK, there are dozens of must-visits in NZ…), this is it. Check out its site for more details: http://www.lochmaralodge.co.nz/

My former newspaper, The Charlotte Observer, went through another round of layoffs this past week — eight folks in the newsroom took voluntary buyouts. Not sure how many others throughout the rest of the company.

There have been so many now, not only in Charlotte but throughout the country, that it’s almost become routine. But for each individual affected, it’s far from routine. For each person who chooses to walk through those newsroom doors for the last time, it’s the end to a chapter in their lives that for most of them began when they were 22, and often much earlier than that. And because of the continuing decline in the newspaper industry, it’s not likely a chapter that will be reopened.

It was a little different for me, when I chose to take my voluntary buyout from the Observer in May 2008. It was the very first round of buyouts, and that time, they were all voluntary. While I certainly couldn’t predict how many, or when, I knew with certainty that more would be coming. At that stage, there were still many people in the newsroom who, for whatever reason, were in denial — denial about conditions worsening, denial about their jobs ever being in jeopardy, denial about the stability of McClatchy (which closed at $3.02 on Friday…but definitely a leap up from the 52-week low of .35). At that point, I wasn’t concerned about any imminent layoff, as I had a fair amount of seniority. There were many reasons that contributed to my decision to leave when I did, some of which I won’t go into, but one significant one was that I knew I could NOT bear to be one of the ones left behind, watching the exodus of my friends and respected co-workers.

That may strike some people as strange — considering as how I ended up leaving and saying goodbye to everyone, all at once. Think of it like the pulling off of an emotional bandaid – excruciating, but quick … not drawn out, over a period of agonizing years.

An e-mail I received from a dear friend, a man, who still works at the newsroom the other night put a poignant voice to all of this. A co-worker and friend of ours was one of the eight leaving. I’m going to share part of the e-mail:

I walked him down to get ice one last time as he was leaving, and he stopped halfway, turned around and said he wanted to go before he cried. I finished that for him.

The life that is gone from here is excruciating.

If you knew these two men, and just the thought of either of them crying or even being on the verge — it brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes imagining it (and is doing so again as I type this).

Another reason my departure differed from those of so many others is that journalism isn’t the only career I’ve known. While it is absolutely my professional passion and the career that I was “meant to have” (let’s face it – when you know it, you just know it), it is my second career. When I first graduated college I was in accounting and finance. I went to work for Deloiite, Haskins & Sells as an auditor, and later worked for Electronic Data Systems as a financial analyst.

I’ll save for a later post how I went from becoming a number cruncher to a wordsmith…

This – http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/gallery/2009/nov/10/100-years-press-photography?picture=355415221 – is surely worth a look. From Hurricane Katrina, 7/7, Cambodian prostitution, Sarajevo war stories…these photographs tell you more truth than a Wikipedia entry ever could.

Here’s a few of my favourites, they’re all in the Guardian and Observer this weekend.

Nathan Bransford makes it simple: the format of your query letter should be boring and straightforward, and the description of your work is the part you need to “sweat.”  (By the way, I stole copied borrowed the blog title emphasis style from Nathan.)

He also links to two other very good recent blogs on query letters.  Holly Root at the Waxman Agency also emphasizes the importance of good writing over all else, while Michael at Dystel & Goderich downplays the formatting details while playing up the importance of reflecting your work in the query.

For my own part, I was never too obsessed with formatting issues like font or paragraph style.  Considering that I work as an editor in an organization with very strict formatting standards, and regularly kick writers in the face for daring to give me something in Courier New rather than Arial, I can’t decide whether it’s ironic that I’m more relaxed about format than the typical writer (as described by agents) or it’s expected that familiarity with ferocious format issues makes me less skittish in their presence.

But, I have to confess that I aaggoonniizzeed over how to accurately and adequately describe The Ligan of the Disomus in my queries.  Asking for suggestions from the handful of first-readers didn’t help much (thanks, tho, guys!) and neither did digging through photocopies of the original short story version that had been marked up by workshop partners.   “Melville + film noir + X-Files” was the best I got from them, and that just makes you think of an alien sea beast being hunted by Sam Spade.

Actually, come to think of it … symbolically that’s not as far off the mark as I, in my moment of self-deprecatory sarcasm, would have liked it to be.*  It’s … an unusual book.

Given the advice from Nathan, Holly, and Michael, I’m glad that the description is the part of the query I decided to obsess over, even if I’m still apprehensive about how well I captured the story and setting.  Zero responses so far, but that also means zero rejections!

_

*Confession: the train of thought presented here in regard to the workshop’s description of Ligan actually happened months ago, at the beginning of the query process.  Like a good writer, after rolling my eyes at myself, I tucked it away for later.

It’s with a half-heavy heart that I read about the closure of the Film monthly, Music monthly and Woman monthly magazines from The Observer.

As a somewhat regular reader of the Observer, I like having the extra magazine on a specific subject every month, however sometimes I felt that it had been tacked on at the end and had pages to fill rather than being crafted out of love and passion for the subject contained within.

Instead of supplying extra magazines, the paper itself and the standard Observer Magazine will be extended to include the subjects lost from the extra mags. I think this will work better, as it will allow for weekly coverage of topics such as music, sport and women’s issues (Whatever they may be) which these subjects deserve and are already covered in their monthly formats in a variety of other more weighty publications.

The head of publishing at the NUJ is worried that the move will make the Observer less competitive in an already competitive market, but I personally I think it will allow each article to flourish and shine. If there’s not a dedicated magazine to say, music, then each music article will really need to work hard for its place in the new magazine and will have to be more interesting, read-worthy and well-researched – or least that’s what I hope.

It’s interesting to note that the Food monthly mag is getting a stay of execution – in the competitive market of food magazines, with the Olives, delicious and Good Food’s of this world it seems surprising that it’s this mag that makes its mark among the rest and is flourishing. Or perhaps random recipes would just look a bit odd chucked in the standard mag, with a standout mag working best?

Of course, I feel for anybody that is going to lose their jobs over this changearound, but earlier in the year it seemed like the Observer would be gone forever, so hopefully this will be a sacrifice that will save my (and countless others’) Sunday treat for a bit longer at least.

Se trouver soi-même

Renouvelez l’expérience que vous avez déjà faite en juin: prenez cinq minutes pour vous détendre et observer le plus attentivement possible une pièce de votre appartement ou de votre maison. Regardez tout ce qui vous entoure comme si vous découvriez cet endroit pour la toute première fois, comme si quelqu’un d’autre y vivait. Mais surtout, n’analysez pas: observez!

So I jumped on bus 42 today after school to head home and had yet another interesting ride. I feel like I am the hunter that hangs out in the wilderness trees while the prey makes it’s way to me; the prey of course being the weird ass people who take public transit around the island.

Anyways today was a weird one. I decided to take 42 instead of CountryExpress A today because 42 had the new bus seats. As a side rant, the older buses have these crappy, short, uncomfortable seats and the newer buses have the nice, blue, molded high metal seats with carpeting. Yeah, high luxury… But it makes all the difference on an hour and a half bus ride twice a day. The seats determine which bus I get on. Back to the story-

So I got on bus 42 and went all the way back to the open seat. I ended up sitting down, and looked over. There was some dude that looked unconscious next to me. I started to laugh a little, but then saw a Budweiser bottle in his hand (as seen in this photo).

I kept an eye on him for a little, but he didn’t move one bit until his friend came along. His buddy sat a few seats up and came back to smack this dude in the head. He said something about “the stop”. The friend got off first and immediately started puking on the sidewalk (beer in hand as well). At this part I was bluntly staring at both of them. So this dude, runs to the door to get off the bus, then realizes that he left his green pill bottle on the ground where he was sitting, ran back, picked it up (mind you, I probably looked like a hawk staring a mouse in the eyes right before my talons were to sink in) looked at me, and then sprinted for the door yet again. The friend continued to puke all over a nearby fence where as the guy pictured just peed next to him. It was an odd site.

I edited the photo real quick on my phone and posted it on my facebook. I started to think, “is there a way that I could document all these weird events?”. I was on facebook after I uploaded the quick story and got a comment immediatly from Lisa and Lindsay telling me to do just that. That is why this blog exists now.

I looked up, a few stops before mine and there was a guy in front of me. I could smell something very potent… it just so happened to be that 20oz Bud Light that he so cleverly hid up with a paper bag. Everyone around us noticed the drink right away. Beer has a pretty distinct smell. He got off right before me, and was walked crooked all the way to the harbor. Whats up with the beers on the bus ride, in the middle of the day (yeah, it is was only 3pm…). The photo below shows just where I was in proximity to him. That is my shoe in the lower right hand side of the photo. I had my foot up because my knees wouldnt fit in the small space between my seat and that seat in front of me.

I thought it was odd… not the whole beer thing… but the Budweiser thing… after all, everyone out here drinks Heiniken.

Rather than merely jumping on the NaNoWrimo IntNoWaMo bandwagon, or impotently griping about its drag on the business and art of writing, I decided to conduct a more useful and effective exercise during November: composing a carefully written short story in the same world as The Ligan of the Disomus.

This stream of activity had several inspirational tributaries.

First: considering how Ligan ends (sorry, no spoiler for those who weren’t among the first-readers) I wanted to create a venue for “un-mysteries” preceding the Reider Case, fantasy-suspense stories that are also set in Lemaigne with the Observer as narrator.

The working title of this short story is The Crow and the Kinnebeck, but if I do end up writing more short stories of this type I will probably title the entire anthology The Lemaigne Tales : An Observer’s Casebook from the Years 285 – 295 of the Republics.

Second: a character who isn’t outlined to show up until the third novel in the series — a 6′8″ Arborstone backwoodsman named Wm. Ochsard whom the Api Men call “Welkos” the Boar — kept throwing attitude (and dialogue) in my direction, refusing to be patient for his introduction. Once I decided to write a short story, he planted a giant deerskin boot in the middle of it and refused to budge.

And, once the story comes out, you’ll see that he is not a man to take “wait a bit” for an answer.

Third: my attempts to write an essay about my writerly vision in creating the Observer’s world were coming off clumsy and biographical.  And, no I do not mean auto-biographical.  The scraps were beginning to sound like someone else writing about my writing years after my death.  There was a “this is what Bob Dole stands for” sense of weird self-reference that was throwing off my game.

So, unhappy with the exposition, I found myself slipping the vision underneath Ochsard’s story of murder and revenge, embedding the clues, hints, nudges, and winks in the language itself so that primarily other writers, bookish types, and critics would notice.

So, November is my Personal Short Story Writing Month.  Current wordcount?  Only two thousand; pretty meager by NaNoWriMo standards.

Current progress?  Plot outlined, psychological and philosophical conflicts identified, eight sections defined by imagery and event, major character interactions popping like corn in a hoose kettle, action sequences choreographed in draft, organizing theme and symbolism nearly complete, and the Observer grumpily plodding through the ramblings and rowdiness of Lemaigne’s corrupted denizens.

So here we are again. Once more it’s Remembrance Sunday, an occasion to remember those who have given their lives in conflicts past and present. This is always held on the second Sunday in November in the United Kingdom, so that it is close to the date of anniversary of the armistice that formally ended the First World War, on 11th November 1918. Another way to commemorate this  is the observance of two minutes’ silence at 11am on 11th November itself. I plan to do that, this Wednesday (which is the 11th November). In fact, I shall  be in the middle of a PhD examination in Edinburgh at that time, so I hope the candidate and the internal examiner don’t object! It is, however, one of the very few things that I’m not willing to compromise about.

Another is the wearing of a poppy. The poppy appeal raises money for veterans and their families, but the wearing of these little red paper flowers is something that not everyone feels comfortable with. Some people think that to wear a poppy is to celebrate militarism or even Britain’s imperialist past. I don’t see it that way at all. If someone asked me to wear a badge to support Britain’s participation in the invasion of Iraq, I’d certainly refuse, in fact.

I wrote about my reaction to the horror and futility of war about this time last year, so I’ll try not to repeat myself except to say that, to me, the poppy is not about celebrating war or military prowess, it’s simply about remembering those who died. In fact, one of the main reasons the paraphernalia of  Remembrance Day observances (the poppy, the cenotaph, the tomb of the unknown soldier, and all that) were set up in the first place was to remind not just people but also governments of the devastation caused byWorld War One. That’s why the Remembrance Day ceremonial laying of wreaths takes place in Whitehall, right at the heart of government. The ritual  was specifically intended to be a warning to the politicians who had brought the conflict about not to allow it to happen again. 

As a young lefty student I grappled with the implications of the poppy appeal. The Peace Pledge Union produces white poppies, as an overtly anti-war symbol of remembrance. For a time I wore a white poppy but, although I am against war, I don’t think a policy of non-violence would have helped much against the Nazis and therefore can’t really call myself an out-and-out  pacifist. One year I wore both white and red poppies, but since then I’ve decided to stick with a red one.

Of course many in the Establishment would like the poppy to turn into a symbol of obedience, a kind of alternative national flag. Some people choose not to wear it precisely for that reason. The sight of some hypocritical warmongerers wearing the poppy at the Cenotaph on these occasions sickens me, but their betrayal does not make me want to stop wearing it myself. Neither does the fact that our politicians seem content to give away the freedoms that so many died to protect.

Some poppy sellers use the slogan  Wear Your Poppy With Pride, but the original meaning  is much better expressed by the original, Lest We Forget. I’m not sure I wear mine with pride at all, in fact. What I feel is really more like shame, at the wastefulness and stupidity of armed conflict. I count myself incredibly lucky that I have never had to live through anything like that, not only because I’ve had a peaceful and comfortable life, but also because I have never been tested in the way previous generations were. I wear the poppy to acknowledge their bravery and to recognize my own good fortune.

On Friday evening I went with a bunch of  Cardiff astronomers to a pub near the department for a couple of pints, as at the end of most weeks. For a while we talked about poppies and their meaning. Some of us were wearing  them, some weren’t. Various views were aired. One view was that it they saw the poppy as supporting the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Others expressed distaste for the fact that the poppy had become a kind of meaningless fashion accessory, or that wearing it had become compulsory, at least for newsreaders and other TV celebrities. Another pointed out that the last British veterans of the Great War, Harry Patch and Henry Allingham both died earlier this year, within a few days of each other, and that made the poppy irrelevant.

I respect these points of view, but don’t agree with them. I think the fact that there are no living survivors of the trenches makes it more, not less, important to remember those that died. It’s not just about the First World War anyway. Nor is it just about servicemen. When I stand fot the two minutes silence I remember those all who fell fighting on all sides of all wars, and  fallen civilians too.

I didn’t support the invasions of Iraq or Afghanistan and I don’t understand what the continued presence of British soldiers in such places is supposed to be achieving other than more death. But why should the dead of Helmand 2009 deserve less respect than those of Flanders 1917? I wear the poppy for them, not for the fools that sent them there.

 When the newsreader Jon Snow decided not to wear a poppy on TV a few years ago, there were angry complaints. I’m sure he didn’t mean disrespect to the cause but disliked the pressure being put on him to conform. I can see his point. It has to be voluntary if it is to mean anything at all. I would probably refuse to wear a poppy myself if someone tried to make it compulsory. But in the end I agree with Euan Ferguson’s piece in today’s Observer. The picture shows a bunch of the contestants from X-factor (which is, apparently, a popular television programme) all wearing poppies.

Ferguson writes

I recall a time, it seems just – just! – about 20 years ago, presumably around the time most of these X Factor contestants were crying their first (but by no means their last) tears, that anyone handing the stroppy younger me a poppy would be met with mystification and reluctance, as if they were offering me a cormorant. Although it’s possible the group in this photograph was suitably “advised” for their very public trip to the West End premiere of A Christmas Carol, the many under-20s stopping outside London’s King’s Cross to buy poppies last week from squaddies suggests a real change of attitude. Gone are the sulky, rebellious, anti-poppy teens of old, now seeming as distant as CND marches.

The young appear not only proud to wear them, but are almost using them as accessories: here, oversized, silky, something even of a statement. Elsewhere, there’s the tasteful option of those rather fine little enamel badges. I’ve seen people take out the little green paper foliage and opt for the simple scarlet. Sarah Brown managed to attract criticism for sporting an extra large one.

Is it all healthy? Well, I don’t like pressure being put on people to conform. Orthodoxy and fear are always to be regretted and today’s society is over-condemnatory, swift to its manufactured outrage. But this change seems to have come from below, not been ordered by bullies: the daily reports of life and death in the forces, of the danger other 20-year-olds daily find themselves facing. And is the symbolism of the poppy being degraded as it is customised? No. You can’t do much to the fabulous simplicity of this symbol. And the poppy doesn’t preach: it’s not about “right” or “wrong” wars, but about brave dead soldiers. And the message was, never, Remember in the way we tell you to remember. It is, simply, Lest We Forget.

December 31, 2008—I remember the evening quite well. I threw my annual New Year’s Eve bash, opening doors to friends and people I didn’t want to offend. In between the merrymaking and Wii Bowling tournaments, my guests and I discussed our plans and hopes for the next 365 days. New Year’s Eve is a starry-eyed night, and the possibilities of failure and disappointment are obscured by food-fueled optimism. Nobody predicted the national recession would affect south Louisiana. But 2009 proved to be more of a challenge than we expected, and now that we’ve approached the day reserved for thankfulness (and food, and football—but primarily thankfulness), our annual glutton-fest is a bit more somber than usual.

Many people would insist that despite our nation’s financial hardships, we have “plenty to be thankful for” as long as we have family and friends. Those sorts of sappy Thanksgiving declarations are for Lifetime movies and Hallmark cards. The fact is, we Americans have plenty to appreciate if we consider how bad things could have been. One simply needs to have a slightly skewed view of the world to enjoy its blessings. Luckily, I have such an outlook, and can share the good news with you.

First, we should be grateful ACORN hasn’t set up brothels in every American neighborhood. Our Neighborhood Watch systems simply would not be able to handle the increased activity, and our children would have to contend with drug pushers and disguised politicians while trying to ride their bikes down the streets. Alas, we’ll never know how many tax dollars it takes to change a red light bulb.

As you pass the plate of gravy-drenched potatoes around the Thanksgiving table, be sure to whisper a prayer of gratitude that you are not yet standing in line to see your heart doctor. Take a moment to reflect how the federal government is not yet allowed to determine which tests are approved or denied. But since our healthcare system does legitimately need improvement, be sure to ask God to give our lawmakers wisdom; then you may resume piling butter on your green beans.

All music lovers should rejoice because the industry is still based in Nashville and Los Angeles, and not in New Jersey. Overproduced tunes and barely-talented stars have plagued discerning ears for almost two decades, and we will probably have to continue shunning mainstream radio stations in favor of good music. But as long as New Jersey schoolchildren don’t become lyricists, we won’t be subjected to insulting choruses like “MMM-MMM-MMMM!” Campbell’s soup mantras for brainwashing children belong in Venezuela, not in America.

Political fanboys on both sides of Congress have plenty to appreciate while carving their turkeys. Conservatives can offer gratitude that Glenn Beck’s head has not yet exploded in gushing streams of red, white, and blue blood as his pressure rises. Republicans can also be happy they found a human polygraph—Representative Joe “You Lie!” Wilson—since his sideshow antics should make plenty of money in future fundraising carnivals. Liberals should thank whatever politically correct deity they choose that Nancy Pelosi’s eyeballs have not fallen out her head, that TV news producers still love them, and that Michael Moore has not yet eaten himself to death.

Of course, my comments represent a very small sample of things to appreciate this Thanksgiving. Considering the Pilgrims expressed their gratitude to God despite the profusion of deaths in their first year, we should be able to offer thanks in the middle of a temporary recession. Hallmark-card wisdom dictates life itself is worth celebrating. Sorry for getting preachy, but—Hallelujah! We’re still alive! Excuse me a moment as I wave a handkerchief and dab the sweat off my forehead.

© 2009 Timothy Samaha. First published in Point of Vue Magazine.