I HAVE SEEN THE FUTURE

There's a programme called Gogglebox that is a recording of people watching tv.  

That's it.

They sit at home watching TV and they are filmed and then that is put on TV.

And then we sit at home and watch them watching TV.

You see where this is going?

One day they won't need to make TV programmes any more. They'll just film people watching other people watching other people watching yet more people watching them.  

And in the end we'll all be watching each other watching us watching them.

A bit like those mirrors in either side of lifts that reflect to infinity.  

Or a mobius strip.  The mobius strip of TV viewing.

And then they'll be able to run re-runs of people goggleboxing.

How long before all that will be left will be goggleboxing.

People won't do anything or go anywhere.  They'll sit at home on padded recliners, with built in self-flushing toilets.  Food and drink delivered by conveyor belt straight into the TV room (which will be the only room) with the screen the entire size of a wall.  And each screen will record you watching it and relay it out to all the other screens.  And these goggleboxers will be able select who they watch watching them.

But that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

Turning The Sound Down

Imagine if the sound of your thoughts was turned right down so they couldn't be heard.

What would remain?

Or let's take it a bit further and take the exercise one step away... how about this:

Imagine that you're being viewed from outside, and that you see what that watcher sees: In other words, what's happening without the ceaseless, inner dialogue.

Without the narrative of your story, what is seen?

I invite you to take some time and really look at what is happening when the thoughts and the incessant, chattering story is removed from the picture.  How does it look?  How does it feel?  What can be said about it?

I am very interested to hear what you find when you do this exercise.

Memory of a not-so-free festival

'Is it an interesting list' he asks?

'Na, mate.  I'm just scribbling, it's a pleasing task.'

Impressions of a festival: That is..... just a list.

Of you, me, them, us and...

All of this.

Glorious!  All these expressions:

The middle-aged-somethings, tapping thighs and nodding heads, 

Gettin' dahn wiv da musik - 'Me is kool, geezer!'

Innit, though?

Toddlers with ear mufflers

Asleep on parents' shoulders.

The crazy guy with beer boxes taped to his arms and legs.

"He's made up, mate - he's got it sorted"

And everywhere, the hippies -

With crazy hats, facepaint and tattoos

Wellies daubed with daisies 

and psychadelic walking sticks

Kids with diablos, kites and rebounders

Old and young

Ugly and virile

Cool and crass

Stoned and sober

A phantasmagoria of movement and colour

Hands up in the air.  GET YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!

Friends and foes, fuckers and assholes

Go low, get high

The wastrels and the wankers and the wasters and the bankers

And the bankers trying to pretend that they're wastrels and wankers

....but they're only ever bankers.

Fascinators, fakers

Flabby and floppy
Taut and stroppy
Laid back, flaccid and erect and preppy

Waiting in line to pee in piss-filled portaloos
Dodging dubious puddles
And loo roll stuck to your shoes

And despite it all, puttin on the lippy.

It's the piss and the loo and the list and the queue and the me and the you.

It's all of it.

It's the asking and the no-ing

The hippy and the dude, the him and the her.

Banker and wanker

Watcher and waiter

Doer and sayer and.. 

The singing and the clapping

It's the trip and the fall and I saw it all

The laugh and cry and the wonder why

But nowhere is there a you and me

Just the beat, song, dance and throng

The clap and the awe and the singalong

Boys doing head stands and bikers being head bangers

No heed of age, sex or job

In front of Prince we're not even a squiqqle

All a shimmy, clap, sing and wiggle

Glorious memory of a free-form festival.