In response to Kevin Drum's recent blog on Mother Jones, http://motherjones.com/kevin-drum:
I don't necessarily disagree, but stifling all of it in an all-inclusive way should still be the choice. The nature of intelligence lies in its total unpredictability. Until AQ is put to pasture, like the IRA now is, what's the point of lifting off? It just seems and unnecessary and potentially horrific risk. Just like the relaxation after the Cold War allowed AQ to take hold in the first place, and the lack of intelligence-sharing led to 9/11, not seeing Afghanistan and Pakistan through to the end is opening a back door we all want closed.
Monday 28 June 2010
Fabio Capello
Slightly off-topic, but after the England game Sunday I want to give a vote of confidence to the team's manager. No one has made England any good for a while now, and he's got the record to show he can pull it together. Now the English players are clamoring for him to go, and I cannot see the point. We all feel the pain (especially Frank Lampard), but that's no reason to hate the Italian. The whole thing was a mess.
Croatian Islands
After seeing a London bus advertising Croatia's 7,000 islands, I'm concerned I'm missing out. As general rule, which I'll follow in July, I don't often go beyond my mainland perch in Dubrovnik. But, at least one of these places must have slipped the attention of the oligrachs. Even if it is just 50 square feet of rock and a pier, I'd like the island. Out of 7,000, there must be one in my price range. To follow up on Sam's comment;
"I've read this mission statement/warm-up entry/what you will...I demand photographs, and I request swear words."
Why can't I have a fucking island? Photographs will come.
"I've read this mission statement/warm-up entry/what you will...I demand photographs, and I request swear words."
Why can't I have a fucking island? Photographs will come.
Friday 25 June 2010
Why Travel
To begin a ream of travel writing I guess it might be best to start from scratch – as in from home, where writing about travel is confined to what I make up on the spot. While I do, currently, spend the vast majority of my time in America, that is University and not, as it were, my general perception and situation in/on life.
In London I am at home, and so this is my home base, and this is where I will start from scratch. I don’t travel here, I am living. Conscious as I am of this fact, I try to capture snapshots of life, and tell you about them. Once I get moving (travelling) away from my home base I’ll still keep trying to convey those snapshots to you, things that I would most want you to read, and hopefully touch on some of the tourist in you.
There is one moment I always remember, and for me holds all the thrill of observation within it. I was 18 and had just left school. As was the (justified) rite of passage for those coming out of an English boarding school life, I bought an Inter-rail pass (Eurail if you’re American), flew to Amsterdam, and began to manoeuvre my way through Europe.
It happened when my travelling partner was asleep on the train and I was staring out of the window at the increasingly Mediterranean landscape develop outside the carriage. I think we were in Italy at this point, it was sunny, hot and dry. I had not slept for four nights (I do not know why) and was approaching delirium, or more likely at it, when behind my sunglasses I began to pour with tears. I felt so intensely the freedom of leaving an institution, the freedom of being alone, the freedom of wandering, and the freedom on wonderment that it suddenly overtook me. My heart felt like it was glowing, and I could not believe the beauty of everything around me, whether it was nice or not. That moment is why my heart jumps every time I get on a bus or board a plane. I had experienced joy that I had never imagined possible, and I sat utterly rigid, weeping for ten full minutes – every second of it a delight.
On a rugby tour to Argentina two years later those sunglasses fell off a boat into the sea.
In any case, this blog will bounce topics around a bit. A lot happens when you look at the whole world.
In London I am at home, and so this is my home base, and this is where I will start from scratch. I don’t travel here, I am living. Conscious as I am of this fact, I try to capture snapshots of life, and tell you about them. Once I get moving (travelling) away from my home base I’ll still keep trying to convey those snapshots to you, things that I would most want you to read, and hopefully touch on some of the tourist in you.
There is one moment I always remember, and for me holds all the thrill of observation within it. I was 18 and had just left school. As was the (justified) rite of passage for those coming out of an English boarding school life, I bought an Inter-rail pass (Eurail if you’re American), flew to Amsterdam, and began to manoeuvre my way through Europe.
It happened when my travelling partner was asleep on the train and I was staring out of the window at the increasingly Mediterranean landscape develop outside the carriage. I think we were in Italy at this point, it was sunny, hot and dry. I had not slept for four nights (I do not know why) and was approaching delirium, or more likely at it, when behind my sunglasses I began to pour with tears. I felt so intensely the freedom of leaving an institution, the freedom of being alone, the freedom of wandering, and the freedom on wonderment that it suddenly overtook me. My heart felt like it was glowing, and I could not believe the beauty of everything around me, whether it was nice or not. That moment is why my heart jumps every time I get on a bus or board a plane. I had experienced joy that I had never imagined possible, and I sat utterly rigid, weeping for ten full minutes – every second of it a delight.
On a rugby tour to Argentina two years later those sunglasses fell off a boat into the sea.
In any case, this blog will bounce topics around a bit. A lot happens when you look at the whole world.
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