Long story, but I'm in Paris.
I don't have that much to say, I just like the coolness of blogging on the hotel's wifi network. Only yesterday I told B we'd had a modernity failure, when his phone kept cutting off mid-conversation, but today I think modernity is really good. Although you have to bring a lot of cables with you.
I am staying in the Hotel California. It has the bizarrest collection of faux art I've ever seen. I don't know what is Californian about it: it's not the decor (seventies hotel renaissance), the art (over-displayed and weird), or the location (quite a long way from California).
Oh well.
The Eurostar was delayed, and then I had to make my own way to the hotel, so when I got here, the clients had already gone out for dinner. So now I've ordered room service, and am reminded how little vegetarian food there is in France. I think it's extremely likely that my salade de saison will come with a ham garnish. Even though I asked them not to.
Oh well.
Is being away better than being at home?
The hotel room smells of that weird room-smelly-stuff that if you have asthma makes you feel ill. If you don't have asthma, it just makes you feel like can't breathe. Or maybe it's the other way around.
Paris is about as cold as London.
I did quite a lot of writing on the train, although the woman sitting next to me was headline surfing my screen, so I wasn't exactly writing with the door closed, so to speak.
Must go, room service.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
David Irving has been arrested in Austria. Watch Deborah Lipstadt's blog: I'm sure she'll have an interesting view.
Bookstuff
So saturday night's movie sent me to google to see what Myla Goldberg has been up to, and now I have a brand new shiny copy of her new book, Wickett's Remedy on my desk.
I think she's a great writer, but also, it's got a dual narrative (we like), lots of that McSweeney's crowd layout, and it's about the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic. Very now. Very HN51. Although I'm sure she's done it for her art, not for the commercial possibilities.
Will keep you informed. If you like.
I think she's a great writer, but also, it's got a dual narrative (we like), lots of that McSweeney's crowd layout, and it's about the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic. Very now. Very HN51. Although I'm sure she's done it for her art, not for the commercial possibilities.
Will keep you informed. If you like.
William Hague earns a lot of money for a man who couldn't win an election. Such is the political life.
Tough times in the Anglican communion. It's so interesting watching other faith groups fight it out.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Saturday night, I saw Bee Season at my local, The Tricycle, as part of the Jewish Film Festival.
Let's just say the film has ripped the heart and soul out of Myla Goldberg's wonderful, beautiful book. Even the filmmakers know we'll never buy Juliette Binoche as a Jewish mother, so she's recast as a Catholic convert.
The people watching was the best, though. Waiting in the bar while the start ran late, was like a hundred and svansig pushy Jewish people all trying to protect themselves because we all know they're out to get you. Two people I didn't know elbowed me in the ribs to get past to... nowhere. There was a lot of that bullet-proof hair and over-jewelled jeans, and more designer handbags than you could shake a lady-who-lunches at.
But this, is priceless. We took our seats, and I was sitting between R and B, and as the credits open, a grandma-y voice from two rows behind leans forward, prods me in the shoulders like I have bad posture (and we all know I do pilates) and says, "gurrl. Take your hair down, it's in ze way."
I collapsed in hysterics. Not because it was funny, but because I was properly hysterical that the cinema was peopled with boundary-less Jews keen to tell people they don't know how to get it right.
But then, I couldn't take the pressure. I knew she would tut and hiss every time I moved. At this stage, I didn't know it wouldn't mar the movie.
So I took out my scrunchie, and my hair's quite long now, and falls around my shoulders in a curly-hair kinda way. R and B were still spluttering at the Friday-night-kiddush-at-your-grandparents style of it all.
Then, two women sitting behind me (and in front of the grandma) say "she thinks it looks better down."
You really couldn't make this stuff up.
Jews. Dontcha love'em?
Let's just say the film has ripped the heart and soul out of Myla Goldberg's wonderful, beautiful book. Even the filmmakers know we'll never buy Juliette Binoche as a Jewish mother, so she's recast as a Catholic convert.
The people watching was the best, though. Waiting in the bar while the start ran late, was like a hundred and svansig pushy Jewish people all trying to protect themselves because we all know they're out to get you. Two people I didn't know elbowed me in the ribs to get past to... nowhere. There was a lot of that bullet-proof hair and over-jewelled jeans, and more designer handbags than you could shake a lady-who-lunches at.
But this, is priceless. We took our seats, and I was sitting between R and B, and as the credits open, a grandma-y voice from two rows behind leans forward, prods me in the shoulders like I have bad posture (and we all know I do pilates) and says, "gurrl. Take your hair down, it's in ze way."
I collapsed in hysterics. Not because it was funny, but because I was properly hysterical that the cinema was peopled with boundary-less Jews keen to tell people they don't know how to get it right.
But then, I couldn't take the pressure. I knew she would tut and hiss every time I moved. At this stage, I didn't know it wouldn't mar the movie.
So I took out my scrunchie, and my hair's quite long now, and falls around my shoulders in a curly-hair kinda way. R and B were still spluttering at the Friday-night-kiddush-at-your-grandparents style of it all.
Then, two women sitting behind me (and in front of the grandma) say "she thinks it looks better down."
You really couldn't make this stuff up.
Jews. Dontcha love'em?
It's Wednesday, it must be Tunis: The World Summit on the Information Society. Hosted by the UN, reducing American control of the internet is apparently high on the agenda. Watch that space.
This morning's Guardian on west end Board Guys (remember the Golf Sale guy?) A heady mix of minimum wage workers, exploitation and global warming.
But, of course, I get bored," he says. "I'm only human. And you know what? I am very, very cold".
But, of course, I get bored," he says. "I'm only human. And you know what? I am very, very cold".
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Oh, you couldn't make this up. The Kazakhstan government are considering legal action against Ali G.
It's a strange, strange world.
It's a strange, strange world.
Apparently, the Home Office are announcing a new initiative tomorrow, A Generous Society (can't find much about it online), which I think was part of the 2003 Charities Bill, and will give each school £500 as a start to encourage a culture of giving among children.
I grew up in a giving society, place. As a child, I collected for (largely Jewish) charities, and saw my parents regularly give. So it's second nature to me. Last year, I went to a talk where people spoke about tithing - which is a faith-neutral concept - and I think I think we are better people if our lives are not just about ourselves.
I think I have more to say about this. I also have quite a lot of work to do.
I grew up in a giving society, place. As a child, I collected for (largely Jewish) charities, and saw my parents regularly give. So it's second nature to me. Last year, I went to a talk where people spoke about tithing - which is a faith-neutral concept - and I think I think we are better people if our lives are not just about ourselves.
I think I have more to say about this. I also have quite a lot of work to do.
The Times has an interesting article on the dual-pricing of tech goods. Short form: do all your christmas shopping price comparisons online now, and buy, before the world gets crazy.
Monday, November 14, 2005
I'm looking out of my office window at the sky... it's a little after four on a wintry autumnal afternoon and the sky is the most mind-blowing colour. It's candy floss pink and irridescent purple. It's like God photoshopped the universe with a psychedelic palette. Or the gods have great back projection at a rave. The streaks of pink are interwoven with violet-ink translucent clouds. It's the colour of my parents sofa in 1976. It's this season's party clothes. It's a rainbow at dusk. It's getting pinker and pinker and purpler and purpler, the intensity turned up like a Kilburn kid with a boom box on his shoulder.
The party pink is reflected in the windows of the houses at the end of the garden, shimmering and shimmying in the almost-dusk.
This is the time that if the world had secrets, we would know them.
And I'm not even taking drugs.
Sometimes, it's the small things that make the difference. There is a wonder in nature and the universe that's bigger than any of us, or our experiences.
The party pink is reflected in the windows of the houses at the end of the garden, shimmering and shimmying in the almost-dusk.
This is the time that if the world had secrets, we would know them.
And I'm not even taking drugs.
Sometimes, it's the small things that make the difference. There is a wonder in nature and the universe that's bigger than any of us, or our experiences.
Did you know that this week is Enterprise Week?
But then, I have a friend who's a DJ, and he's got some book you can look up where every day is something day.
But then, I have a friend who's a DJ, and he's got some book you can look up where every day is something day.
Operation Eden is Clayton Janes Cubitt's incredibly moving blog about going down to New Orleans after Katrina to help his mum and brother pick up the pieces.
Clayton's a photographer by trade, but his writing has drawn me back to this site again and again.
Makes you/me/one happy (in a way) to know there are good people out there just doing the right, respectful thing.
Clayton's a photographer by trade, but his writing has drawn me back to this site again and again.
Makes you/me/one happy (in a way) to know there are good people out there just doing the right, respectful thing.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Banterist - the weblog of that guy with the leather pants ad on Ebay.
Clientgate
So I have this client who gives me extremely intellectually challenging work, but is quite chaotic. But I can live with that - that's kinda why people use consultants sometimes: to get some clarity through all their internal guff.
And there's a certain satisfaction derived from see through the trees to the wood.
There's quite a lot of making meetings, and cancelling them, and remaking them, and then some key people not coming, and them changing their minds about what they want. And I'm training them (managing upwards or whatever you call it) to do this stuff better.
So they insisted on having a (three hour) meeting on erev Rosh Hashanah (which is kinda like Christmas Eve, to me). It was for twenty people, and my contact was very insistent that that was the only day everyone could make, and as I was the person leading the meeting, I needed to be there.
Client's mostly/always right, so I said yes. Get there at 11am, my client and her sidekick are there. Fine. Wait a little, no-one else shows. She gets on her mobile and makes some calls. Turns out no-one's coming. Because they hadn't actually built internal relationships with the people they were bringing to the meeting, they'd just sent them an Outlook diary request which they'd collectively ignored.
Given that they'd just cancelled a whopper of a contract (which was going to buy me all manner of new geekery) the previous week, which is the way the game goes sometimes, I wasn't happy. My client was embarrassed: "you must bill us for your time, obviously".
I left, and thought about it, and decided to bill them for half a day: there was two hours travelling, and half an hour hanging around, and the mental preparation, and she'd asked me to bill her anyway. Also, I thought that maybe in a slightly Pavlovian way, if she had to run around looking for a code to bill it to, she might learn to change her behaviour. Not that I'm her CBT therapist. I checked it out with a couple of other freelancer friends. Seemed fair.
A couple of weeks later, I send an email with the invoice attached. I get an immediate, irate email back from her, saying who do I think I am, and this is outrageous. In conflict-avoidance mode (and it's not really worth it for this, anyway), I pick up the phone, and she's quite ranty and says she expected me to bill her for like £30. I resisted the tempation to say I don't get out of bed for less than £30, and we sort of agreed on half, and I said I was interested in the long term blah blah blah.
Then, other stuff happened, and I didn't send a credit note (because being self-employed means I'm my own accounts department, and it's frankly not worth raising/chasing an invoice for less than a certain amount of money). Her sidekick gets on the phone and says it's outrageous, and she'll sort it. She comes back to me a week later, and tells me a slightly higher figure (like, 60%).
I kinda don't really care, but it's all too far gone, and sending them a credit note for 40% has sat on my list, and I got distracted and shit happened.
Today, I get a statement from them saying they paid my last invoice for a big piece of work - AND THIS ENTIRE INVOICE.
Sometimes, you don't know what to think. So you just think nothing.
So I have this client who gives me extremely intellectually challenging work, but is quite chaotic. But I can live with that - that's kinda why people use consultants sometimes: to get some clarity through all their internal guff.
And there's a certain satisfaction derived from see through the trees to the wood.
There's quite a lot of making meetings, and cancelling them, and remaking them, and then some key people not coming, and them changing their minds about what they want. And I'm training them (managing upwards or whatever you call it) to do this stuff better.
So they insisted on having a (three hour) meeting on erev Rosh Hashanah (which is kinda like Christmas Eve, to me). It was for twenty people, and my contact was very insistent that that was the only day everyone could make, and as I was the person leading the meeting, I needed to be there.
Client's mostly/always right, so I said yes. Get there at 11am, my client and her sidekick are there. Fine. Wait a little, no-one else shows. She gets on her mobile and makes some calls. Turns out no-one's coming. Because they hadn't actually built internal relationships with the people they were bringing to the meeting, they'd just sent them an Outlook diary request which they'd collectively ignored.
Given that they'd just cancelled a whopper of a contract (which was going to buy me all manner of new geekery) the previous week, which is the way the game goes sometimes, I wasn't happy. My client was embarrassed: "you must bill us for your time, obviously".
I left, and thought about it, and decided to bill them for half a day: there was two hours travelling, and half an hour hanging around, and the mental preparation, and she'd asked me to bill her anyway. Also, I thought that maybe in a slightly Pavlovian way, if she had to run around looking for a code to bill it to, she might learn to change her behaviour. Not that I'm her CBT therapist. I checked it out with a couple of other freelancer friends. Seemed fair.
A couple of weeks later, I send an email with the invoice attached. I get an immediate, irate email back from her, saying who do I think I am, and this is outrageous. In conflict-avoidance mode (and it's not really worth it for this, anyway), I pick up the phone, and she's quite ranty and says she expected me to bill her for like £30. I resisted the tempation to say I don't get out of bed for less than £30, and we sort of agreed on half, and I said I was interested in the long term blah blah blah.
Then, other stuff happened, and I didn't send a credit note (because being self-employed means I'm my own accounts department, and it's frankly not worth raising/chasing an invoice for less than a certain amount of money). Her sidekick gets on the phone and says it's outrageous, and she'll sort it. She comes back to me a week later, and tells me a slightly higher figure (like, 60%).
I kinda don't really care, but it's all too far gone, and sending them a credit note for 40% has sat on my list, and I got distracted and shit happened.
Today, I get a statement from them saying they paid my last invoice for a big piece of work - AND THIS ENTIRE INVOICE.
Sometimes, you don't know what to think. So you just think nothing.
I'm very sad to hear that Lord Lichfield died.
Technical Update
So after a lot of tears and strong coffee, I know the answer. If you ever have the problem where Adobe is obstreperous, and you can't add/remove programme in Windows, and you can't rename the directory in Program Files, so you can't reinstall, and you can't repair 6.0.1 because it hangs... I know the answer (now, thanks to my expert technical advisor) - rename the Adobe directory in safe mode, and then reinstall 7.0.5.
Mental list of other tech things I must do:
Fix the Palm synchronise thing - it's synchronsing back the mists of time, for some reason, and it takes too long/hangs/never ends, and now my diary doesn't work
My Vaio is apparently back next week, with a new motherboard and wireless card, but I agreed that they wouldn't do a factory reset, because I couldn't face having to resintall XP and office, but it does mean that "they have advised me" that some things might not work/need new drivers, and I don't know what this means yet
I am having a nice time with my HP Tablet, though. Small pleasures...
My mail is currently in two places: my old colo (who I love, guys, obviously), and my newer commercial set up. I need to centralise it, get with the program(me), and work out how to use their webmail.
Buy a digital camera. And a Tivo-like thing. And a flat-screen TV. Well, a new TV: my old one doesn't have scart sockets or anything.
So after a lot of tears and strong coffee, I know the answer. If you ever have the problem where Adobe is obstreperous, and you can't add/remove programme in Windows, and you can't rename the directory in Program Files, so you can't reinstall, and you can't repair 6.0.1 because it hangs... I know the answer (now, thanks to my expert technical advisor) - rename the Adobe directory in safe mode, and then reinstall 7.0.5.
Mental list of other tech things I must do:
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Even though both Madonna (sorry, Esther) and my neighbour's DJ buddy go to the Kabbalah Centre, I'm a sceptic.
Partly, because I know a little about Kabbalah (pronounced Ka-Ba-La, all short As, not kur-bar-lar, in that weird way) and I know the last thing it includes is the crossing of palms with silver. My scepticism was validated by Rabbi YY Rubinstein on the Heaven and Earth show this weekend.
So I'm both apalled and not so surprised about last week's story about a poor woman who ended up donating nearly £30,000
for a fake cancer cure.
Say after me: C-U-L-T.
Side note:
This ridiculous paragraph at the end of the Guardian piece:
Backstory
Kabbalah has only gained popular appeal in the last 20 years, after being developed by a lapsed rabbi, Philip Berg, and his second wife, Karen. It originally evolved in the Middle Ages as a mystical interpretation of the Torah which aimed to reach a better understanding of the divine than could be attained by literal or metaphorical analysis. If the bible is a code of laws for man, then Kabbalah is the attempt to work out the laws by which God created and governs the universe. It was restricted to Torah students over the age of 40 because of its complexity and the ease with which it can be misinterpreted. The Bergs divorced Kabbalah from its traditional roots, simplified it, opened it up to all faiths and commercialised it. They created the Kabbalah Centre, which has branches in Tel Aviv, London, New York and Los Angeles. In the new interpretation, the drinking of Kabbalah water and the possession of books that have never been read can lead to magical cures for illness.
So. The bold is the Guardian's doing, not mine.
Thoughts:
Does the Guardian think we're so dense we can't read a whole paragraph without highlighting their version of key words? What do you think this is, the internet?
Kabbalah has not only gained appeal in the last twenty years: it's an ages old tradition that has been studied for generations
And it so hasn't been "developed" by Philip Berg. It's been bastardised, whatever.
I just don't care what his wife's called
At least they didn't spell Kabbalah with a Q
The tradition is so much more complex than you can get in a stupid soundbite
Why does Kabbalah have a capital K, and Torah a T, but bible doesn't have a B?
Partly, because I know a little about Kabbalah (pronounced Ka-Ba-La, all short As, not kur-bar-lar, in that weird way) and I know the last thing it includes is the crossing of palms with silver. My scepticism was validated by Rabbi YY Rubinstein on the Heaven and Earth show this weekend.
So I'm both apalled and not so surprised about last week's story about a poor woman who ended up donating nearly £30,000
for a fake cancer cure.
Say after me: C-U-L-T.
Side note:
This ridiculous paragraph at the end of the Guardian piece:
Backstory
Kabbalah has only gained popular appeal in the last 20 years, after being developed by a lapsed rabbi, Philip Berg, and his second wife, Karen. It originally evolved in the Middle Ages as a mystical interpretation of the Torah which aimed to reach a better understanding of the divine than could be attained by literal or metaphorical analysis. If the bible is a code of laws for man, then Kabbalah is the attempt to work out the laws by which God created and governs the universe. It was restricted to Torah students over the age of 40 because of its complexity and the ease with which it can be misinterpreted. The Bergs divorced Kabbalah from its traditional roots, simplified it, opened it up to all faiths and commercialised it. They created the Kabbalah Centre, which has branches in Tel Aviv, London, New York and Los Angeles. In the new interpretation, the drinking of Kabbalah water and the possession of books that have never been read can lead to magical cures for illness.
So. The bold is the Guardian's doing, not mine.
Thoughts:
My pick of today's stories: Martin Rowson on Blair's defeat, Nick Lezard on the ubiquity of cocaine (I used to work with him at the Modern Review. I was not one of the aforementioned cokeheads), and is Tesco getting too big for its boots?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
