About Me

Sometimes you have to Bite the Dog

#SometimesyouhavetoBitetheDog

I am a father, a writer and a human. I write mostly about my daughter. Eve Lily Coleman. She was born on Monday 12th December 2011 at 13:47 which explains the blog title. I have another daughter aged thirteen. Make of me what you will.

Herein you will find fatherly advice, insights and interviews with parents, writers and other humans. Overall this is a story of my experiences of fatherhood from various perspectives. There are some aspects of my story you may not agree with. There will be holes in my judgement and there will be errors in my decisions. There will always be love. Whether hideous or filled with light there will always be beauty. At times you need to look hard to find these aspects of your life. Some would say you could class this as “parenting”.

I have a book, “Sometimes you have to Bite the Dog”, due to be published by John Hunt Publishing. More news on this as it comes in.

You can find me on Twitter Youtube  Facebook Goodreads and Flickr.

Do say hello via the portal of your choice. Especially if anything I do excites or offends you. Ideas are for sharing.

If you do leave a comment on any content please don’t feel like you have to be nice. A comment is a comment. Not everything can be solved by being nice. Seriously. We are here to be challenged.

I hope you recognise a piece of yourself in here somewhere. That’s all I write for. We are all only here in our short little lives for an arbitrary time so your presence here is humbling.

Yours faithfully,

Sam Coleman

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Breakdown

I hope you wake up well rested, refreshed and read this…

My gorgeous, lovely man. Neither Eve nor I could be prouder of you. Seriously. Seeing you with her every day makes me yearn to be as wonderful a parent as you already are. Your book is a testament to that total love that we all share. I’m so sorry if I haven’t conveyed how delighted I am that you are in such a happy place, I really mean that.

I just want you to rest if your mind will stop whirring for an instant and remember how much we love you! Then you can soak up and relish this amazing time rather than hurtle through it a sleepless fireball!

You know what I mean?

@cathjanes

Some of you may know that, at the moment, I am furious. Boiling with rage. So angry in fact I could quite happily crush the world to dust in my fist and cry with laughter at the same time.

This is not about me. When I feel that the human race is simply a collection of useless, meat filled puss bags, I turn to The Kraken. Her roar dilutes my rage with substance and clarity. Her words seem to centre me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, the Kraken.

I am The Kraken (rarrgh!) and I’m forming a black hole of fury so you don’t have to on www.thekrakenwakes.org. Blame wanky drivers, twatty children, fat-handed shoppers, sexist spaff-baskets, cockwombling celebs and anyone else that forces me to wave my fist in the street. No longer capable of seething silently, I’m loudly venting my rage and angst but with more laughs than green ink and more nous than an entire Tory conference. In fact, I am the new voice of reason. Come, put your head on my shoulder and tell me what makes you mad…

Why are you so angry?

Angry? Moi? Well, if you insist… It’s because I’m continuously staggered at how ignorant, insensitive, thoughtless, unaware and just plain pig-thick so many people can be. Contrary to my image as an enraged blogger, I’m very loyal and put an enormous amount of thought into other people’s feelings so when I don’t get the same consideration in return I ever so slightly lose my marbles. I’m also a supreme optimist and believe that there is good in everyone (I know, I know, you’d never guess) so when I see the bad side of others I feel let down to the point that I actually have to blog about it. This probably makes me highly needy, pernickety and demanding of towering standards but I like myself that way. In fact my rage makes me happy and my blogging is like online therapy. Once I’ve raged I feel so much better that it has actually become addictive.

How do you process negative feedback on your writing?

Now that depends on the feedback. I adore debate so if someone wants to challenge me I’m like a pig in shit. I started my career with the intention of becoming a barrister, before moving in to journalism, so debate is one of the best parts of blogging. In fact it motivates me to keep writing because I only ever write what I believe in and I adore having a voice. However, if I get negative feedback because someone hasn’t read my blog properly or misunderstood me I actually become distressed with frustration and won’t stop raving until I’ve had the last word. For example, recently someone accused me of only trying to be controversial rather than honest which sent me through the roof. I’m not trying to be controversial. I’m simply trying to express myself. If you think that’s controversial, that’s your opinion not mine.

Is there anything in life that softens you?

Kraken Junior. Seriously, if you saw me blowing raspberries on her belly at bedtime and smothering her in kisses you’d think I’d had the Kraken side of me lobotomised. She can melt me like no-one else as can Conjugal Kraken, bless his tormented heart. I’ve also been known to cry at adverts and school plays and the film Meet Me in St Louis makes me sob so loudly that I become incoherent. Me bawling into a cushion and gasping for air has actually become a Christmas ritual.

And, oddly, Kraken Junior and Conjugal Kraken are also why I am so angry. I adore them both so utterly that if anyone crosses them I become enraged to the point of insanity. I’m not so much a mother as a starving tiger determined to rip the flesh off anyone who does her cub wrong.

Do you worry about the future that your children will be living in?

Fuck yes. I worry continually that Kraken Junior will be let down by the world around her. That sounds very bleak but she is such a hopeful and happy child that when someone disappoints her she feels it keenly and I want to do whatever I can to stop that from happening. My biggest fear, as the mother of a little girl, is the amount of sexism that she is forced to endure. I thought it had died out until she was born and I realised that it’s actually become worse. The pink, princesses, sexualisation…and I despise that while I fought against this all of my life she will have to fight it all over again. I become almost deranged at the fact that her gender could one day be used against her. Woe betide anyone who does that to her. They will have The Kraken to deal with.

Describe yourself in five words

Pissed, astounded, hopeful, broken, hungry.

The Kraken lurks in your very subconscious. It hides beneath your skin. You will find it’s scripture here. You can, on a stormy, chaos strewn evening watch it’s scaly head break the surface of the ocean here.

Do say hello. She is just lovely.

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.
H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu
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#tottenham

Reblogged from 12/12/11/13/47:

Click to visit the original post

I love Tottenham. I’ve lived in a fair few places. I’ve struggled to feel at home in various parts of the world.

It is a real comfort for me to feel at home. Especially as a young family. I’ll be honest. We are a minority where we live. To be honest this doesn’t bother, threaten or intimidate me. I am white, middle class with a strong family network.

Read more… 1,032 more words

I love Tottenham. I’ve lived in a fair few places. I’ve struggled to feel at home in various parts of the world. It is a real comfort for me to feel at home. Especially as a young family. I’ll be honest. We are a minority where we live. To be honest this doesn’t bother, threaten or intimidate me. I am white, middle class with a strong family network. I am fortunate. I have travelled, failed, dreamed and succeeded with the emotional and financial safety net of my family consistently there. I’ve been granted opportunities to see more of the world than others. I am, also, privileged to have worked with people at the opposite end of the spectrum. I have had to help shape a young mother’s week into a time when she can feed her child as well as herself. I have taken the arm of a recovering alcoholic desperate to repair what little he had left of his life. I have worked in Edmonton Job Centre in North London. And I am proud and honoured to have had the opportunity to do so. During my middle class, comfortable life I have mostly worked in nice comfortable offices with white middle class people. At a high ratio. When the recession myself and my wife had to downsize. I was a mess. I was out of work for six months. So I wrote a strongly worded email to the DWP HR team leader for Haringey council pointing out various administrative failures. I was offered an interview the same day. By the following week I was employed by the DWP as a Future Jobs Fund lead. I quickly began to fall in love with my new direction in life. I had found a calling. I was good at it. I had found something I was suddenly, automatically, passionate about. People. The experience that will stay with me the most is working with such a rich cultural mix of individuals. Rastafari, Sikhs, Muslims, Christian, Cypriot, English, Black, White, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Greek, Hindu, Catholic, Atheist, Extremist, Pacifist, Racist. People. There is such a nucleus of the world in one place that the differences between us became irrelevant. They had to. It is a stressful job. You need to work closely together. Collaborate. You spend so many lunchtimes together trapped in a tiny room. I learnt much about religion and faith and food and family from honest, genuine people from extraordinary backgrounds. People with a bite to them. Thanks to random circumstances I was suddenly side by side with people whom I would have never come across in my usual, white middle class patterned life. That job made me. I learnt more about myself in that frenzied, terrifying, hilarious, often beautiful one year contract than I ever have. My point is that this to me provides proof that on some basic level we can as a species just get along. Please. I am a minority where I live. And I have seen what’s behind the mask of the area that I live in. The riots? We had just moved into Tottenham that same year, six months before the fires started. The smell of the burning police car ruined my middle class barbecue. The first person that called me? My good friend Nigel George. A colleague from the Job Centre I worked in. A sweet, mischievous gentleman from St Lucia. One of my closest friends. Asking if my family were safe. My wife was six months pregnant at the time. Welcome to Tottenham. There are seeds growing. There are strong roots here. There is a beauty pushing against the elephant in the room. It’s tough around here. You have to stand your ground. There are unpleasant people living very close to me. You stand firm. You have to. There are unpleasant people in the smallest villages. Someone among the human race undoubtedly thinks I am quite unpleasant. Relativity leads inevitably to love. Love lives here. I have never felt so safe in my own home. The one thing I am not interested in is football. The helicopters still make me slightly nervous. Please google the following words; London Tottenham Bruce Grove Riots 2011 Post Office London You will find lots of images of buildings burned to the ground. Then more. You’ll find lots more. At this stage in my rant let me make it perfectly clear that we do never, ever want to see the return of the days when this sort of thing could happen again. Not in Eve’s lifetime. Never. Yes I’ll swear. I’m VERY ANGRY. And disappointed. Where’s the education? The consideration? The thought? And what the hell did the individual who glued that hideous, child frightening poster to the phone-box think? Did they make sure it was glued on properly? Did they notice the poisonous irony? I hope so. The horror I felt when I saw this was quite something. Then, to see this two weeks later, after make some semi-polite approaches, I saw this. Again. #survivethenight For weeks I had to walk past that gutted, spat on building. Sliced in half. You could make out bookcases, the colour of people’s wallpaper, CD collections, shoes, memories, photographs. You could see #humans. And each time I walked past it I would sob my fucking heart out. There’s still nothing there. No posters. No signs. Nothing. My suggestion? Turn it into a graffiti wall. A friendly, safe place for cool people to gather and have fun. Maybe somebody somewhere could potentially make some money selling home cooked food? With hand in hand cash transactions? Why? Because it would be fun. It would be a human thing to do. It’s not difficult. You know who you are. It would be nice it someone would say, or do something about the mentality of our community. Let’s start talking to each other. Please insert your favourite #Tottenham Tweet into the comment box. No violence. Please be nice. And yes. You may talk about our very successful football team. Rant over. Time for bed. Sorry for all the swearies. (If you’re in Tottenham do come and say “hi” to me and my family, should you see us at the Fish Market on Sundays. I always buy all the prawns. Sorry about that. x) Update: We have a victory. Thanks everybody. I like to think I had some part to play in the decision. Western Union. Send money to your loved ones. Much better.
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Book Review: “The Little Book of motherventing (Kindle Edition)” by Fran Lewis

Eons beyond the general childcare manuals and inherently immersed in tragedy Fran has put together an illuminating, honest and often painful collection of stories directly from the core of her marrow. It reads as a maniacal soliloquy with the sharpest tongue firmly in her cheek. It reads as a rib-burstingly hilarious collection of honest and pain filled parenting anecdotes. Often on the edge, always with both feet planted firmly on the shores of her own subconscious this collection of thoughts and insights deserves to be read. It bleeds from the page. Her poetry will startle you. Beyond parenting Fran operates in a world shaped by her own making. Once tragic, sometimes tear inducing, always honest. Not only will her words ground you they will lift you from the mundane. Blistering, frightening and welcoming please bear witness to the world of Mother. Venting. Bring biscuits.

This, may go some way to sum her up.

You can all use “Google” can’t you?  Increase her traffic. Ten fold.

x

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TBC

Nigel,

I’ll be honest with you.

My employment with the DWP helped make me the person I am. I would not have had exposure to such different cultures explained to me so beautifully as you and Zain had previously done. And so many others.

Moving to Tottenham I have to say scared me at first. The riots? Eeesh. With my wife 6 months pregnant? You start rethinking things. But it binds you as neighbours, I feel like I am part of Tottenham and, for the first time in my life, I can say that I am “proud to live here.” I’ve never felt that way before.

I just love the dialogue you’ve created, I want to create some peace in Tottenham and showcase a set of memories that will inspire others to feel the same. I feel a heartbeat for the place, some folks round here would love to read your words. I can do it for you. I’m rather good at it.

What’s in it for you? Pft. Some fun? A bit of writing? We can meet for a beer to talk about it? You’re an excellent writer Nigel. I want to showcase you. It’ll be fun.

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Watchtower

Eve inserts people into my life very easily.

Outside we stood. Our faces in the sun. She told me all about the wheels on the cars lining our road. Five in total. Five “wheels”. She is very good at pronunciation. Two women then walked by, bearing the Watchtower magazine. They smiled enormously at Eve. What did Eve do? She said “hi”. And waved.

Great. Wave in a friendly manner at a random human passing by will you? Let’s see how far in life that particular skill gets you, my girl.

I don’t believe in God. I believe in people. I don’t believe in organised religion. I don’t believe in judging a human based on their individual beliefs, that they, as one amongst billions, are free to choose as they wish. I don’t believe in the persecution of a single human being who thinks differently to me, or sees the world differently to me. We all exist in our own space. The world is for sharing. Not destroying.

It’s important to remember that our beliefs are taught to us at a very young age, religious or otherwise. This does not make them true. There is no truth in an idea. Truth exists in action. Action is the result of an idea.

So. Jehovah’s Witnesses. Annoying aren’t they? All their talk about “Jesus Loves You”. Taking time to happily plod around a community. Being stared at. Ridiculed. Children spitting at their feet. All for the love of God. Each one trying their very best to make a connection with endless, frowning strangers.

“1 John 4:7-8 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

There is some lovely writing in the bible. We discussed other verses. We spoke about Nelson Mandela. Science. Existence. The whole experience lasted about ten minutes. The time between us throbbed.

Eve was quite taken. They smiled at her adoringly. Children can be very powerful.

Anyway. We’re meeting again to have more discussions. I will have to project manage the whole affair. I am still slightly worried that she will one day just “turn up”. On a whim. Or perhaps God will speak to her, conveniently right outside my front door. Every Sunday.

The two women knew the Bible inside out. They had tiny Bibles. Pocket books. Each leather bound and old. Wrinkly. Experienced. Each one happy to divulge content to any who wished to peel their pages open. An incredible amount of content in a tiny, tiny book. How many people turn to a book for comfort? How many people turn to the Bible for comfort? Many. There are a lot more devout Christians than there are people like me. I haven’t read the Bible. I don’t believe in God.

I do, however, believe in the idea of a God. The idea of a God swims through all of us. In various international waters. In many endless, countless shapes and colours.

Whatever God is, and whoever and whatever decides to enter into your life, it is nice to be nice. Even though I think I do, I do not know everything. Eve is doing her homework in a few years. There will be learning to do. For all of us. In many, many ways. Eve will listen patiently to me. Or ignore me. The latter is more likely. Overall my point to this piece is that the more you know about the world around you, the more likely you are to understand why it is the way it is.

So for Eve? Her beliefs? It’s up to her. I’ll enjoy exploring religion with her. I’ll enjoy exploring the world with her. If she wants to. The world we live in is shaped by religion. It’s important we know the reasons for this.

The idea of God can even be used for comedy. The comments are worth reading.

Educate yourself a bit.

Conclusions:

1. The Jehovah’s Witnesses who stopped to talk to me and my daughter were intelligent, sharp and friendly. Tender and gentle people. The important point to raise is that they both asked who we are. My daughter and I. Idly watching the sun burn across the sky.

2. In this world, a spare five minutes to be pleasant to someone, can instlil unseen levels of confidence in others. It is not difficult to do.

3. Jehovah’s Witnesses are doing much more to listen to damaged and broken people living in my community than I am. Perhaps there is something I can do about that. Perhaps there are some ideas, some glistening green shoots of hope in Tottenham. We can all help these ideas grow. Wherever and whatever they may be.

4. If anything the pictures in the Watchtower pamphlets are, at times, hilarious. At times.

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@babberblog

When I joined Twitter I very quickly came across Lewis (@babberblog) and instantly learned that he and I are quite alike. He is hilarious, passionate and an excellent, honorable father.

I learned a lot from him about being a dad in the first hectic, miserable, eye-gouging, terrible months of fatherhood. Sleep deprivation does strange things to you. Lewis is the type of person who likes to help other people out. His pacifistic nature shines through when you converse with him on Twitter. He’s talked me off the edge a couple of times. He might not even know that. That’s Lewis for you. He is quite human.

I’m Lewis, I’m a distinctly average person making my way through life. I’m ticking boxes on my way through, as we all do. Last year I finally ticked one of the big ones: having a baby (not the physical act, of course, that would have been distinctly un-average).

Aside from having a small human to look after, I also have a wife, a house, a car, lots of bicycles, a healthy appetite and a scraggly beard.

I blog about stuff, mainly the baby, but also other things that interest me. I’d love you to come and say hello. Validate me.

What inspired you to start blogging?

Blogging is one of those things I had felt like I ought to do for years. I’m a gifted procrastinator, so I’d never got around to actually doing anything about it. It was a quiet murmur in the back of my head, which occasionally got a bit louder.

When my wife was seven months pregnant with Cam I had a week off work on my own, which I used to indulge myself in all the hobbies I thought I would probably have to put aside for a while once the baby arrived. I also listened to the murmur which was suggesting that blogging would be a hobby I could keep doing.

I’d also spent some time reading sites like Bounty and Netmums, and not engaging with them at all. I had no idea there were so many great blogs out there, which is good, because if I’d found them I’d have been too intimidated to start my own.

What is the one thing you hope to achieve with your writing?

To provoke a reaction in whoever reads it. It’s what I want when I read other people’s words too. I don’t mind too much what the reaction is. Laughing’s a good one. Crying would work for me too. Thinking about something that wouldn’t normally register.

Obviously, if someone wanted to pay me to write, that’d be just fine…

What characteristics for you, based on what you’ve learned, make a good Father?

There are so many, and I’ve barely got started yet.

Early on, I was glad I’m a patient man. Babies don’t set out to wind you up, I don’t think, but they’re very good at doing it. Battling through the mental effects of having less sleep than you’ve had since you were a baby yourself, patience and tolerance are essential. No matter how many people tell you how difficult a newborn can be, no-one gets it until it happens.

One I feel is really important, but that I could do with working on, is feeling comfortable making a fool of yourself regardless of the situation. I’m a shy sort, and easily embarrassed. I don’t always find it easy to be effusive and “fun” in public with Cam. I hate feeling like I’m being looked at, and people tend to look at you when you’re busting out your best baby entertainment moves.

As time goes on, I’ll be looking to emulate the characteristics I saw and continue to see in my own father. He’s a quiet, gentle, fair, honest man. If I can be as much of a father to Cam as he has been to me, I’ll be doing a damn good job.

How close is your online personality to your real life persona?

The protection we’re afforded by our keyboards, monitors and the physical separation of the internet all mean it’s very easy to fabricate a completely different life for yourself online. That’s fine, if you let people know that’s what you’re doing. If you’re a blogger and you’re not telling the truth, I don’t want to read that.

I don’t make any attempt to be anything online which I’m not in real life. I want to be honest, I want to be thoughtful, compassionate and kind. I want the people I interact with online to feel that there’s value in those interactions. I think the connections and friendships we make which start online are just as important and “real” as those which start offline.

All that said, I’m quieter in real life and I’m not confident talking to people I don’t know. I had to make a conscious effort to overcome that when I joined Twitter. I’m happier putting words in writing than verbalising, so it wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared.

So, I guess, “pretty close” sums it up.

What do you hope Cam learns from reading your blog (when he’s able to read)?

He’s going to read it? Shit. Erm.

I didn’t write it for him to read, really. If he does decide to, I hope he’ll learn that I’ve loved him from the very first moment. Actually, I hope he’ll know that already.

Describe one moment of your parenting in which you’ve felt “a bit of a twat”?

Just one?

I feel like a twat when my tolerance reservoir runs low. When Cam has managed to rile me and I’ve got to the point where I feel like I love him, but I don’t like him.

He then makes me feel even worse by doing something really sweet to make friends with me again, usually a particularly coy game of “peepo”.

That makes me feel an utter twat, because all the blame lays with me, and there he is being the bigger man.

What is your favourite piece of writing that you’ve written?

A while back I wrote a short piece of fiction and posted it on the blog. It was the first time I’d written anything like that in about ten years.

All my blog posts are hastily scrawled in a lunch break, so it was nice to spend a bit more time on something. To think about it. To finish a draft and think “no, not right” and go back and change it rather than just posting it anyway.

It’s nothing special, but quite a few people commented on it in a positive way and some of those were people whose own writing I really admire. That made me feel good.

If I had more time, I’d love to write more fiction. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to.

What inspires you to write? What inspires you in general?

I love words. I’m a bit of a word geek. I’ve always loved writing and I find it a more comfortable way to communicate than speaking. So the thing that inspires me to write is a love for writing. Usefully, this also means I can find myself writing about any old thing and still enjoying it.

In general, I’m inspired by people. People who achieve things which I think are good things, invent things I think are worthwhile, overcome things I imagine I’d find insurmountable.

I once took a psychometric test which told me that altruism was one of my strongest drivers. So I’m inspired by a desire to help other people. I quite like that, although it does come with its own set of awkward questions.

Lastly if you could offer any new parent one piece of advice what would it be?

I think the most important thing is to trust in yourself. Nobody goes into parenting with all the answers, no matter how hard some people try to make you think they have some magical manual at their disposal. Trust that everything you do out of love for your child is very likely to be the right thing. Of course there’ll be mistakes, but we all make them.

Being a parent is hard enough, without trying to be a perfect one.

Before I go, I want to say a huge thank you to Sam for inviting me to answer his questions (and for putting up with how long it took me to do so, it’s an honour to have some of my words on one of my favourite blogs.)

Lewis makes being a dad look easy. If I was a brand new father I’d follow him on twitter for sure @babberblog. Read his blog. There are some excellent pieces of writing in there. This is my favourite at the moment. There are beards within it.

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Social Media

I have a thirteen year old daughter. I won’t go into the semantics of it but it’s been only recently that we are starting to develop strength in our relationship. I’ve written about this before.

Now I am experiencing fatherhood again, somewhat more cohesively, the emotions beginning to bloom between us are quite something. I wasn’t there for her in the same way I am for Eve and I carry some regret in regard to that.

Sometimes it’s tricky on the phone. I don’t really spend much time conversing with teenagers. They can be odd at times. Now however, as we are talking a lot more, I am going to have to find out as much as I can about teenage girls. The previous sentence appears somewhat illegal. Especially on a parenting blog. But I can’t write it any other way. Ah. The power of words eh?

Social media is brilliant. I may not be that great on the phone but I can write pretty well.

This leads me to share a particular epiphany I had last night. Meghann and I wrote to each other using Facebook’s IM box for the first time last night. It was life changing.

“hi?” (this is me)

“Hello?” (this is Meghann)

“Hi! Ace talking to you.

Can I ask you a question?” (we had spoken over the phone earlier)

“Yes”

“Is my profile picture too much?”

“No I like it!”

“Really? I thought it was a bit arrogant.”

“No it’s not. I knows it…”

“You certainly do.

Hey

My book comes out soon

Like

Super soon”

“What is it called?”

“‘Sometimes you have to Bite the Dog’

what do you think about being in a book?”

“I am very excited!”

“Cool. I’m really excited.

I want to talk to you about it. Not just the book but the way I got it published. I think it might be of interest to you.”

“Oh yeah totally!

Cool. I might write a blog post about it. I could do it as a “this is how you teach your teenage children about how to do something they can be proud of in the digital world”

would you be up for something like that?”

“Yeah I like it! Is your book going to be a bit like your blog or is it a bit different?”

“In the way it’s written. It’s a smartened up version of the blog. It’s been copy edited, all my horrible grammar has been tightened up.

I’m going to email you the final proof. PDF.”

“Haha! Okay I will have a read!”

“Cool. Let’s do lots more o this shall we?

*of”

“Yeah definitely! By the way I am fine for Skype on Sunday evening and tomorrow night but if that’s not okay then any time next week!”

“Sunday evening. Let’s do it.”

“Okay that’s cool!!”

“Nice. By the way. Persepolis is amazing. It’s a film as well. See you on Sunday” (I sent her Persepolis and Ghost World for her 13th birthday)

*hugs*”

“Yeah I looked up the film and I looked quite good! I will see you on Sunday! *hugs*”

“You still there?”

“Yeah! Just finishing off some homework”

“Yuck. Just going to bed. Nunnite.”

“Good night”

Thanks to social media my life has changed somewhat. I have a tool of communication for speaking to my teenage daughter that’s comfortable for both of us. Baby steps. Steps nevertheless.

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“We will continue to listen and learn”


Dear Sam Coleman,

The e-petition ‘Misuse of Drugs Act 1971 – Impact Assessment’ signed by you recently reached 26,677 signatures and a response has been made to it.

As this e-petition has received more than 10 000 signatures, the relevant Government department have provided the following response: The Government has reviewed a range of reports including that produced by the Home Affairs Select Committee (HASC), which the Government considered in detail. We welcomed the valuable contribution the HASC report makes to policy development and noted the positive responses in a number of areas. The level of acquisitive drug related crime and the need for a radical change in the way we tackle drug use and misuse is why the Government is implementing the most ambitious drug strategy to date with the ‘building recovery: supporting people to live a drug-free life’ strand at its heart. As the Government noted in its response (
http://www.official-documents.gov.uk/document/cm85/8567/8567.asp
) to the HASC report, there are positive signs that our approach is working. We are however not complacent. We will continue to listen and learn from emerging trends, new evidence and international comparators to inform policy development. This e-petition remains open to signatures and will be considered for debate by the Backbench Business Committee should it pass the 100 000 signature threshold.

View the response to the e-petition

Thanks,

HM Government e-petitions 
http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk/

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Photographs

Photo by Mitch Jenkins for cover of 'Unearthing' http://lexrecords.com/releases/unearthing-boxset/

Photo by Mitch Jenkins for cover of ‘Unearthing’
http://lexrecords.com/releases/unearthing-boxset/


if somehow our children ever see the day in which it is announced that we do not have these weapons any more, and that we can no longer destroy ourselves and that we’ve got to do something else to do with our time than they will have the right to throw up their arms, let down their streamers and let forth a resounding cheer.” – Alan Moore Source

Alan Moore inspired me to write. Almost as importantly he has an excellent beard.

I’m reading Voice of the Fire. His first novel. It’s mind bending. I have to take a break from reading it every now and again. It is quite an arduous read. The writing is muscular. When I read the following passage it felt as if I’d been slapped across the face;

Beneath the base of every flame there is a still, clear absence; a mysterious gap between the death of substance and the birth of light, with time itself suspended in this void of transformation, this pause between two elements. I understand it now. that there has only been one fire, that blazed before the world began and shall not be put out before the world is done.“

One, chaotic, invisible moment. Like a photograph.

To continue this magikal journey here are some extracts from an interview with Alan Moore;

AM: …When modern horror films or fundamentalists talk about “demons,” they mean something very different than what Socrates meant by the term. It was a lot closer to what I was talking about: the essential drive, the highest self, if you like. So maybe there is a connection, when I met, or appeared to meet, a demon. It was a little bit frightening at first, but after a while we found that we got on OK and we could have a civilized conversation, and I found him very engaging, very pleasant. And it struck me that this was a brilliant literal example of the process of demonization. That when I had approached the demon with fear and loathing, it was fearsome and loathsome. When I approached it with respect, then it was respectable. And I thought, All right, there’s a kind of mirroring that is going on here that is probably applicable to a wide number of social situations. The people or classes of people that we demonize, and that we treat with fear and loathing, respond accordingly. We are projecting a persona of manner of behavior upon them, as well as responding to a manner of behavior that’s already there. When we’re looking at the flaws in their personality that we are able to recognize, the fact that we can recognize them suggests that they are probably in some way a version of flaws that we have ourselves.”

“AM: …If time is an illusion, then all movement and change are also illusions. So the only thing that gives us the illusion of movement and change and events and time is the fact that our consciousness is moving through this mass along the time axis. If you imagine it as a strip of celluloid, each of those individual cells is motionless. If they each represent a moment, they’re unchanging. They’re not going anywhere, but as the projector beam of our consciousness passes across them, it provides the illusion of movement, and narrative and cause and effect and circumstances.

So. Photographs. We have a lot of photographs of Eve. I have to constantly decide how best to store them. Digitally. It can get complicated. I experience a flash of hot guilt every time I delete a vaguely blurred photograph of her.

You would need to set aside some serious time to look at all of them. A day at least. A day to absorb a short lifetime of endless, whirling memories of parenting. All the tired faces. All the wincing, awkward poses with friends and family. The day you first came home with your tiny human, to the very moment you are reading these words. It is all there. Right in front of you. The agony and the beauty. The photos you will spend hours looking through in your helpless, fragile, elderly years. Your personal collection of memories. Moments. Photographs of your time.

She used to be so very small. Thin. Frail. And she was born just over eighteen months ago. In this, time loses all meaning. When I think of her as she is now I cannot imagine her being anything else.These thoughts, thanks in part to reading the various works of Alan Moore, lead me to wonder why on earth I pursue the habits that are ultimately destroying me. I have a very short window of time with my children and, if Alan’s perceptions of time are anything to go by, it is now considerably necessary to remain in the moment.

We stitch each moment together. We weave our tapestries into the velvet canvas of the very universe itself. To gaze into the eyes of my daughter is to gaze into her existence. The voice of her fire.

Acknowledgements and Source Material:

Credit to Top Shelf Productions for quotes taken from “Voice of the Fire“. I hope this has gone some way to at least selling one copy to someone. It is a breathtaking piece of work. Buy their books in a bookshop. A proper bookshop.

Credit to The Believer Magazine for an astonishing interview with Alan Moore.

Credit to Alan Moore for inspiring me to write, to think and to cock my head at reality.

Credit to Mitch Jenkins for the haunting photograph I’ve used for this post. It’s most prominent on Alan Moore’s Facebook page.

Credit to you for reading. Read “Watchmen”. And “Swamp Thing”. The “Killing Joke” is amazing too.

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