Issue #2 of PAN is finally, finally, finally, at crunch time. I can't remember any project being quite this difficult to bring to fruition, except perhaps the grand project of staying alive, or law school but I'm not sure that counts as a project. Law school was more like an error of judgment that gathered momentum then gripped me in its yellow teeth and wouldn't put me down until I used every last ounce of will to finish the damn thing and walk away holding nothing but a cardboard folder, much like my relationships with men, only with less sex and more highlighting sentences in large books.
I'm about to embark on a large-scale experiment, the likes of which I have not before What the fuck was that? Juvenile cockroach ON MY DESK abandon ship this is an emergency.
Showing posts with label Law talking Dale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Law talking Dale. Show all posts
Aleksandr Hearst is an interesting young man
I happen to agree with him on this issue though of course I might word it a little differently. I've said it before and I'll say it again:
'This country's planted thick with laws from coast to coast and if you cut them down d'you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?'
Yes Robert Bolt said it first. I am aware of that.
'This country's planted thick with laws from coast to coast and if you cut them down d'you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?'
Yes Robert Bolt said it first. I am aware of that.
I have some issues
With this.
I believe the argument should not centre on the artist and whether or not they are famous. It is time for abstraction. The real issue is censorship, with a side of criminal law, and censorship ought to be discussed in broader terms than one artist, author, exhibition or book. Censorship is a wide blanket that can cover us all. It is not useful to speak about the merits of the artist or the artwork as a kind of defence against censorship, that tactic feels to me like the onus rests squarely with those that would argue against censorship. The shoe should be on the other foot. What possible rational argument can there be for censorship of this kind, I am yet to see any.
Parts of this discussion must be heard in court, it must be established whether or not a crime has been committed. Art is not exempt from the law and it must be established whether or not a crime has been committed. If a crime has been committed then this is good and rational argument for censorship in this particular instance as the models are now technically victims of crime. If a crime is found to have been committed, if a crime is constructed from black letter technicalities and creaking cogs of elderly judicial minds then that is a separate matter and the law itself should be brought into the argument. I do not object to the law machine examining objects brought before it, that argument can easily be distinguished from the matter at hand.
Censorship in this instance has been fired like a cannon from a corner of the community and it is difficult but not impossible to argue against them. The artist should be removed from the argument, the specific should be pushed down because what we are talking about here is people being naked and some people saying we should not be allowed to look at them, this is censorship and I object. We shouldn't need to go through this again but it seems that we must. This is censorship and I object.
I believe the argument should not centre on the artist and whether or not they are famous. It is time for abstraction. The real issue is censorship, with a side of criminal law, and censorship ought to be discussed in broader terms than one artist, author, exhibition or book. Censorship is a wide blanket that can cover us all. It is not useful to speak about the merits of the artist or the artwork as a kind of defence against censorship, that tactic feels to me like the onus rests squarely with those that would argue against censorship. The shoe should be on the other foot. What possible rational argument can there be for censorship of this kind, I am yet to see any.
Parts of this discussion must be heard in court, it must be established whether or not a crime has been committed. Art is not exempt from the law and it must be established whether or not a crime has been committed. If a crime has been committed then this is good and rational argument for censorship in this particular instance as the models are now technically victims of crime. If a crime is found to have been committed, if a crime is constructed from black letter technicalities and creaking cogs of elderly judicial minds then that is a separate matter and the law itself should be brought into the argument. I do not object to the law machine examining objects brought before it, that argument can easily be distinguished from the matter at hand.
Censorship in this instance has been fired like a cannon from a corner of the community and it is difficult but not impossible to argue against them. The artist should be removed from the argument, the specific should be pushed down because what we are talking about here is people being naked and some people saying we should not be allowed to look at them, this is censorship and I object. We shouldn't need to go through this again but it seems that we must. This is censorship and I object.
Stingoes
Creamboy is about to receive his first pay cheque as a doctor. Well done Creamboy. I of course offer my heartfelt congratulations on this milestone however it is not without a sting. Its moments like these that the measuring rods slide out of their invisible holsters. Creamboy's current specialty is vascular surgery, mine is disappointing people.
No. No that is not true. Mine is to be unfathomable and to take unexpected directions for unrevealed reasons. I am not powerless in this situation. I chose not to practice law. I chose to work for shit pay in the arts sector. I chose to turn in circles while my classmates from university walked straight down the line. I have real and complex ethical and artistic issues with the Australian law and how it impacts on the lives of ordinary people. I have thought this through drawing on all of my skills for abstract and higher reasoning. I have that law degree sitting in the bottom of my giant cupboard for a reason.
I wish that I could have buttoned up a grey suit and marched out the door every morning satisfied that I was doing the best that I could but I couldn't. Now. I might be ready now to begin reconsidering the law as a career path. Now, but not then.
I am going to take that darn degree out of the cupboard and prop it against the wall, just for a little while to see what happens.
No. No that is not true. Mine is to be unfathomable and to take unexpected directions for unrevealed reasons. I am not powerless in this situation. I chose not to practice law. I chose to work for shit pay in the arts sector. I chose to turn in circles while my classmates from university walked straight down the line. I have real and complex ethical and artistic issues with the Australian law and how it impacts on the lives of ordinary people. I have thought this through drawing on all of my skills for abstract and higher reasoning. I have that law degree sitting in the bottom of my giant cupboard for a reason.
I wish that I could have buttoned up a grey suit and marched out the door every morning satisfied that I was doing the best that I could but I couldn't. Now. I might be ready now to begin reconsidering the law as a career path. Now, but not then.
I am going to take that darn degree out of the cupboard and prop it against the wall, just for a little while to see what happens.
Jurisprudence on a Monday afternoon
It is a truth universally acknowledged that I lead a boring life. In keeping with this truth I have been reading about historical and conceptual issues of copyright beginning in 1709 with the Statute of Anne and the remarkable case of Donaldson v Beckett (1774) 4 Burr 2408, 98 Eng Rep 257 and finding it very interesting.
I did of course study intellectual property as part of my law degree but study however was often a matter of cramming my head with as much information and understanding as possible in order to pass exams. I was denied a leisurely and personal reflection on many aspects of the law. I did from time to time stop and reflect, much more often than the other students, but much less than I should have.
I won't do the law the injustice of attempting to summarise my pondering at this point.
Pressing my intellect against the stone face of the law out of mere curiousity poses a new problem. I have been here before and knelt and wept at the tiny printed summed up and stitched through idol of human reasoning. I have stood at the bottom of it all and thrown year after year until half a decade later I came to, still at the bottom, wearing a mortar board and gown. I don't what the law is and this worries me. It is system of rules certainly but it is great and terrible and capable of filling the whole sky. It is interwoven through all meaning and thought. I will chase it.
I did of course study intellectual property as part of my law degree but study however was often a matter of cramming my head with as much information and understanding as possible in order to pass exams. I was denied a leisurely and personal reflection on many aspects of the law. I did from time to time stop and reflect, much more often than the other students, but much less than I should have.
I won't do the law the injustice of attempting to summarise my pondering at this point.
Pressing my intellect against the stone face of the law out of mere curiousity poses a new problem. I have been here before and knelt and wept at the tiny printed summed up and stitched through idol of human reasoning. I have stood at the bottom of it all and thrown year after year until half a decade later I came to, still at the bottom, wearing a mortar board and gown. I don't what the law is and this worries me. It is system of rules certainly but it is great and terrible and capable of filling the whole sky. It is interwoven through all meaning and thought. I will chase it.
I have a theme song
My friend Spencer drew a cartoon of me on Fspazbook with the caption "I am a complicated lady whose theme song is Moody Blue".
I rather like having a theme song again. I used to have one that went; Law talkin' Da-ale. You must acquit! repeat etc in any key you like. I had thought that Spencer wrote it but he insists that it was mostly Artboy and he just played it on guitar so I ditched it. Ditched it along with the rest of who I was when I was loved.
Now I have a new and exciting theme song. I just looked up the lyrics and am wondering many things. I wonder how it sounds. I've never been one for listening to Elvis Presley. I mostly listen to normal Elvis, Costello that is.
I rather like having a theme song again. I used to have one that went; Law talkin' Da-ale. You must acquit! repeat etc in any key you like. I had thought that Spencer wrote it but he insists that it was mostly Artboy and he just played it on guitar so I ditched it. Ditched it along with the rest of who I was when I was loved.
Now I have a new and exciting theme song. I just looked up the lyrics and am wondering many things. I wonder how it sounds. I've never been one for listening to Elvis Presley. I mostly listen to normal Elvis, Costello that is.
Excogitate or just plain cogitate
"This country's planted thick laws from coast to coast... and if you cut them down... d'you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?" Robert Bolt A Man for All Seasons.
What is it about the law that has such a hold on me? I am sitting here on my bed in Grizelda's shower cap with dye periodically dribbling down behind my ears wondering about the nature of reason and justice. Gleeson CJ [CJ refers to Chief Justice] says in his book The Rule of Law and the Consitution "Law is not the enemy of liberty; it is its partner." I am not Gleeson CJ's biggest fan it is not secret that Kirby J is my all time favourite High Court judge. I went to hear him speak once and I almost swooned at the end of the lecture. His mind is fabulous. I could almost see the auditorium air fill with whirring cogs and the fog of all knowledge coiled at the merest nod of his head. If I could think. If I could think like that I would, actually I don't know what I would do, most likely I would apply myself diligently to something instead of dying my hair in order to be more ROCK but I digress.
I am once again beginning to think with clarity. I am beginning to be glad that I sacrificed five years of my life to study law. I beginning to think that I can think.
What is it about the law that has such a hold on me? I am sitting here on my bed in Grizelda's shower cap with dye periodically dribbling down behind my ears wondering about the nature of reason and justice. Gleeson CJ [CJ refers to Chief Justice] says in his book The Rule of Law and the Consitution "Law is not the enemy of liberty; it is its partner." I am not Gleeson CJ's biggest fan it is not secret that Kirby J is my all time favourite High Court judge. I went to hear him speak once and I almost swooned at the end of the lecture. His mind is fabulous. I could almost see the auditorium air fill with whirring cogs and the fog of all knowledge coiled at the merest nod of his head. If I could think. If I could think like that I would, actually I don't know what I would do, most likely I would apply myself diligently to something instead of dying my hair in order to be more ROCK but I digress.
I am once again beginning to think with clarity. I am beginning to be glad that I sacrificed five years of my life to study law. I beginning to think that I can think.
What in the hell is happening?
The area between my neck and my legs has gone mental. I need some kind of personal emergency ambulance helicopter. It is not a digestive upset, it is not menstrual cramping but something in between. I think I am being attacked by somebody twisting a voodoo doll in the middle. This is the only logical explanation. I feel lightheaded and look fetchingly pale. Consumption? Spazitis of the middle regions? Blastoma of the guts?
Oh wait I know what it is. I've been reading a book called The Constitution and The Rule of Law for fun. I had forgotten I am allergic to the law. I can not digest it without ill effect. It is the artificial reasoning [it is actually called that]. Artificial reasoning is not good for a person. I've lost my counter intuitive legs, been on land too long you see. The sum of human reasoning should be approached with caution, I will don my showjumping helmet and gloves before proceeding. I think its going to be a long night.
Oh wait I know what it is. I've been reading a book called The Constitution and The Rule of Law for fun. I had forgotten I am allergic to the law. I can not digest it without ill effect. It is the artificial reasoning [it is actually called that]. Artificial reasoning is not good for a person. I've lost my counter intuitive legs, been on land too long you see. The sum of human reasoning should be approached with caution, I will don my showjumping helmet and gloves before proceeding. I think its going to be a long night.
D is for Dale who took lye by mistake or D es por Dale que bebi� lej� a por error.
Open the double locker in this clanking chest. They are hauling in the masses and puzzling them into shapes, working the pointed ends into the rubber heart is what I was thinking as I walked home. But then I thought, that's shit, don't write that, so I didn't. This Friday I have the privilege of spending a day, whole as a pie, tapping away at my manuscript. One problem. There are no words.
I started this silly blog to try and unblock the block. A way of letting words out without caring too much about them. An edit-free spontaneous place to put words. Perfect. Until now I am once again faced with my old nemesis, The Book. I had this crazy idea that if I put all these restrictions on myself that my focus would spiral back into the thinking writing part of my brain. A time-honoured tradition amongst writers. There was a French school of writers who would eliminate one or more letters from the alphabet to make themselves think harder about word choice. Another school of thought is that writing is work, same as all other work, chopping wood or making cakes. Work that can be worked at. Yet another school of thought is that writing is automatic, a sort of divine gift that the author has little control over. I say bollocks to all of them. Its much more complicated than that.
A lovely friend of mine, Rita, emailed me today to say that she likes my blog and can one day imagine someone sitting in a cafe being arty and reading a book written by me. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said, better even than the man who told me I had spectacular breasts, better than when someone told me I was smart, better than when Elliot said I could make any hat look good, better than the one time my Dad said he was proud of me (graduation day from law school). But I'm not sure I can do it.
Studying law is a piece of piss compared with the cold dead weight of unwritten words trailing crazy opals in the dust behind me. Doing anything is a piece of piss compared to the terror of the next sentence. What will it be? Where will it come from? How the fuck am I going to have an idea?
All week I have been scattered and ridiculous, distracted even from my distractions. I can't concentrate on trying to concentrate. Even my computer at work is developing an anti-Dale forcefield of mythic proportions. I am almost certain that Robert, the new man at work, wants to murder me by jumping on my head and shouting For fuck's sake just shut the fuck up, but he is very polite and hasn't even frowned.
I have one more day to prepare myself. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.
I started this silly blog to try and unblock the block. A way of letting words out without caring too much about them. An edit-free spontaneous place to put words. Perfect. Until now I am once again faced with my old nemesis, The Book. I had this crazy idea that if I put all these restrictions on myself that my focus would spiral back into the thinking writing part of my brain. A time-honoured tradition amongst writers. There was a French school of writers who would eliminate one or more letters from the alphabet to make themselves think harder about word choice. Another school of thought is that writing is work, same as all other work, chopping wood or making cakes. Work that can be worked at. Yet another school of thought is that writing is automatic, a sort of divine gift that the author has little control over. I say bollocks to all of them. Its much more complicated than that.
A lovely friend of mine, Rita, emailed me today to say that she likes my blog and can one day imagine someone sitting in a cafe being arty and reading a book written by me. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said, better even than the man who told me I had spectacular breasts, better than when someone told me I was smart, better than when Elliot said I could make any hat look good, better than the one time my Dad said he was proud of me (graduation day from law school). But I'm not sure I can do it.
Studying law is a piece of piss compared with the cold dead weight of unwritten words trailing crazy opals in the dust behind me. Doing anything is a piece of piss compared to the terror of the next sentence. What will it be? Where will it come from? How the fuck am I going to have an idea?
All week I have been scattered and ridiculous, distracted even from my distractions. I can't concentrate on trying to concentrate. Even my computer at work is developing an anti-Dale forcefield of mythic proportions. I am almost certain that Robert, the new man at work, wants to murder me by jumping on my head and shouting For fuck's sake just shut the fuck up, but he is very polite and hasn't even frowned.
I have one more day to prepare myself. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.
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