Here is the news.

I really like having a washing machine again. We’ve just had a new one fitted since the old one died on Tuesday. I’ve put my Aikidogi in there because it’s been in my bag since Monday and I’m worried that by Sunday it’ll be applying to UNESCO to protect its culture.

Also this week I talked S into buying crotchless latex hot pants; I regard this as one of  the greatest achievements of my life. I say talked; I said that I’d like to see her in them and she bought them. Not all great achievements must be difficult. I suggested buying this open bra thing too and that got bought as well. The cup kind of folds down like a rather erotic nursing bra. So at the moment I’m feeling a little bit deliciously spoiled. Not going to lie I’m really chomping at the bit to mount her and fuck her like an animal.

In other news I bought Dior Homme Eau for Men on the basis that women seem to love it and I quite like it. It’s more masculine than Le Male and to be honest I’m kind of wondering if Le Male projects at all since no one seems to have noticed me wearing it. I’m hoping that Dior does project. I want compliments damnit! Curiously it cost £10 more in the town centre than it does in my local Boots. It’s maybe not as woody as I would like but it’s classier than Le Male, although not as fun.

The only real downside this week is that I’ve decided to lend C a significant proportion of my saved money for urgent repairs to her car. This isn’t a massive issue because at this point I’m basically saving money for the joy of saving money, but I find myself wondering if I’m now going to have a bit of a rainy day. No good deed goes unpunished.



Eye in the Sky.

So C got back from her interview at Oxford, which apparently went well and we talked about going out for a meal but then decided that we would go and see Eye in the Sky and, if I’m honest, I wasn’t massively enthused about it. I watched the trailer while making tea and I sort of thought it’d be some kind of action movie, but it isn’t. In fact for a lot of it I rather had the feeling that I get when I’m at the theatre and watching something that has weight to it, that feeling of really being drawn into it as if I’m in the action myself.

At the heart of the film is that classic ethical dilemma between utilitarian ethics on one hand and Kantian ethics on the other: Do you sacrifice the life of an innocent person to save many other lives or is that immoral and the moral action is to accept that the terrorists are going to kill many innocent people, but you are in no way morally responsible for their actions. Stopping the attack is morally praiseworthy but not morally obligatory.

The thing I love about this film is that it does what the best Greek tragedy does: it doesn’t solve the dilemma, or rather it accepts that the dilemma cannot be definitively resolved and so it doesn’t come down on one side or the other; it’s happy to let you walk out in a state of confusion. When you’ve seen Antigone you’re left wondering if Creon was right or if Antigone is right: should the law be followed because it is the law or is disobedience of the law morally right when the law is morally wrong?

Also I love the centrality of law to the film, there are endless legal discussions, of course, but I found it interesting how the film emphasises that the law exists to protect us and, ideally, it is law that rules not human caprice.

The other thing I really like about this film is more personal. The other day I was watching Greece: The Greatest Show on Earth  being a bit of a classicist, and I remembered the link between the Athenian destruction of Melos in the Peloponnesian war and Euripides’ The Trojan Women and I had one of those moments when I noted, with satisfaction, the continuation of the cultural tradition of drama as critique even after two and half millennia. It’s nice to see that democracy and drama are still inextricably linked and that drama can serve as more than just entertainment or art for art’s sake.

Naturally the moment I got out of the cinema I was on my phone pre-ordering a copy of it.




I’m not quite sure how to put this. I’m generally quite dispassionate, I’m not interested in my own feelings, never mind anyone else’s. I’m unmoved by insults and motivated by a deep and apparently inexhaustible curiosity and I have a fascination with other cultures. Partly I blame Star Trek for this because in Star Trek it’s made obvious that different cultures really are different and there’s this utopian, humanistic, thing about understanding the differences between cultures and also understanding cultures on their own terms.

So having said all this I’ll point to a fact and ask a question. We live in a multicultural society, can anyone tell me about the differences between Western and Islamic culture? Can anyone tell me how their worldviews differ? Like a culture has a psychology of it’s own so there must be psychological differences between Westerners and Muslims, right? Just like Humans and Vulcans or Vulcans and Klingons have different psychologies produced by their cultures.

So what are the differences? Nobody knows, do they? In fact I suspect that a lot of people reading this are getting a bit uncomfortable at the idea that Westerners and Muslims might not be psychologically identical: the curious thing about our multicultural society is how homogenous it’s supposed to be and, essentially, how not all that multicultural it is supposedly. It’s also interesting how uncomfortable people get when you point out what is implied by the word “multiculturalism”, that there are multiple cultures, that there are differences, that we are not the same.

Then I read this by a Danish psychologist called Nicolai Sennels and I found it fascinating, but unsurprising. It’s nice to finally find someone who can give a technical description of Islamic culture. Even if it is entirely wrong and mistaken, at least someone is trying. Really this is something anthropologists should have had nailed decades ago because at the moment we look at Islamic culture through an extremely Eurocentric lens which leads us to do bizarre things like deny what Islamists say is true and give our own Eurocentric reasons for Islamic extremism.

Updatus minimus

So, apart from a touch of anxiety on the morning of the day of Freya I’m still pretty manic and, not going to lie, I really like it. Oh, apart from a bout on the evening of the day of Freya when I felt like I was literally going to explode. This was resolved by stuffing my face with beef in black bean sauce and chicken fried rice – self medding never tasted so good.

I’m watching this BBC thing called “Natural Born Winners”, which I’m guessing is ironic, because in this episode they’ve sent them to India to learn Kalarippayattu – a martial art. Right now I’m wearing the expression that I have whenever some plebeian n00b walks into my dojo, the look of resignation, disdain, confusion.

Oh yeah!


Considering that I find violence, even actual real life violence, absolutely hilarious I can see me giggling as I do (I giggle) all the way through it. I have a screw loose when it comes to violence, like you can hit me and it doesn’t make me angry. Also: stippers.

For reference this is how I feel playing paintball. That bit where the guy chucks a grenade and yells “Catch”, that’s me and R storming a building. Epic, just fucking epic.

Ugh part deux

It’s like, I’ve done everything that I’m meant to do, I’ve chased other women, I’ve done the sleeping around thing, I’ve done the having a fuck buddy thing, I try and meet yet more bloody women, I’m constantly chatting away on my phone to them all and it does no good. I wake up in the morning and I think of her, and during the day I wonder how she is, and I wonder when she’ll be back from uni and when I go to bed I think of her. None of this is because I enjoy it, I miss her, I know that I’m nearly almost certainly on a wild goose chase but I can’t really do anything about how I feel.

The other thing is that I’m just totally uninspired by the women I meet. They’re nice enough, often they’re really quite attractive, occasionally more attractive than her, but they don’t have that intellect, that way of being, that soul.

I tell you where I am: I can’t really be bothered to seriously chase sex and I’ve realised that this is because I actually want more than just sex. Even when I sleep with S it’s more than just sex even though we’re still friends. The idea of just having some wham bam thank you mam style sex…….there are times it appeals, but not long enough for me to do anything about it. There are women I want to fuck…………but not enough to bother about.

Her, though, it’s not even a sex thing. I want to be snuggled up to her naked. I want to be gazing into her eyes, her nipple in my mouth with her thighs around my waist, her arms around my shoulders and a hand on the back of my head as she kisses my forehead. That’s what I want. After that I want to throw her on all fours, grab her hips and make her massive tits shake like they’ve never shaken before and then cum all over her, but first I want the snuggles. I want to lay there vulnerable in her arms feeling totally safe and supported.