turtleofjoy

Venting Session

2006-02-25T20:51:00.000-08:00

Homespun have a MySpace page. Tonight I felt the need to comment on it as a virgin *cough* poster to MySpace. The thing about it is that I'm sure that it could yeild some darn fine music, but it is ultimately the realm of indiegirl clones and, upon closer inspection, KT Tunstall's PR company.

Needless to say it brought out the worse in me when I put cursor to comment box:

I don’t like James Blunt, I don’t like girls at gigs who only go with their boyfriends, I don’t like hitting my head on the roof of the cab, I don’t like Wheelchair Car comparison jokes, I don’t like that every man delivers them like they’re the first one to say it to me, I don’t like that they expect me to laugh, I don’t like that anyone expects me to laugh, I don’t like having to have a good time just because entry is only a quid and the DJ plays Build Me Up Buttercup, I don’t like people wearing uni logo sweatshirts in clubs, I don’t like uni logo sweatshirts especially when they are personalised with the vaguely misogynistic nickname no one ever uses printed on the back, I don’t like people that think Charlotte Church seems an ‘ok sort of person’ because OK sort of people deserve to choke on their own mediocrity sooner than appear on chatshows. I don’t like MySpace but more than that I don’t like that I don’t have a greyscale photo with flattering lighting to convince anyone looking at my profile of my quirky good looks when I’m actually ugly as fuck.

But I do like Homespun. Especially A Minute

Love Music, Hate Arsekissing

In which Turtle embraces her inner slightly younger self

2006-02-24T10:23:00.000-08:00

I wrote this after reading Lady B's latest on our responsibility as Disabled people. It started out as a direct response but I actually think its a different issue:

I am not much of a timekeeper. I was late for school. A lot. And every day, I would enter the classroom to a flow of sarky remarks from my tutor before I could reach my desk. Now, bad conduct is bad conduct and has consequences. Sarcastic teachers are sarcastic teachers and have egos. I didn't have a problem with being chastised for obvious rule-breaking, I didn't even have a problem with his tone. It was an irritant, not worthy of a blog 5 years on.

Then one day I noticed something. During and after his speech, two or three fellow tardy pupils would invariably slip through the door. They would sit down to nothing more than a few words or a disapproving look. It occurred to me that I was being unfairly targeted. That crip students don't recieve 'special treatment' is a given. What I am suggesting is that can lead to overcompensation. I'm suggesting that now, what I did at the time was turn round and say:

"I'm not the only one late, you know that. You're doing this so you can say 'ooh look i can tell off a cripple how fucking hard am I'"

For every time I was made an example of, for every time I had my unremarkable homework waved in front of the class, for every time I was pulled to the front of the Chronicle photoshoot , I became more convinced that no behavioural expectation - where impressed on Disabled over non-disabled people - was worth adhering to with any more care than anyone else.

For obvious reasons this is a dangerous mindset, you have to take responsibility for your own actions and acknowledge their wider consequences. The fact that we are particularly representative of Disabled People in the street is undeniable. Unpalatable, but undeniable. What I object to is the heightened level of scrutiny, the additional rammifications of rebellion and bad behaviour at a time in life where those two things are supposedly crucial.

I'm not gonna change that. I like it. I apologise for the victim tone, the adolescent whinging and the strong possibility that I misunderstood Lady B's post.

Wristbands, Support Bands and wanton threats of MOR Voodoo activity.

2006-02-22T19:42:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that the gloriously botoxed Scrubs actor John McGinley is wearing a yellow and blue wristband in the latest series of the hospital sitcom. Who is he supporting? Down Syndrome, according to this webpage . It would be cynical of me to think the webmasters concerned were cashing in on the not-overly-charitable 'wristband trend' among British kids. [Incidentally, does anyone remember Shag Bands? Disarmingly similar, I thought.]

I can only say that from what I can make out, I am green, Sam is green times at least two and if you are as bored as me you can find your condition on the list. Together we truly can make a rainbow. At the moment I make a green blob.

In other news, I'm tired. If Beautiful South support Robbie pissing Williams I will make a Paul Heaton voodoo and burn it. Not all of it, but let's just say that falsetto won't be giving you no trouble no more if you get my drift.

I got 99 problems but an inability to fully control motor function, particularly muscle control and coordination ain't one.

2006-02-19T14:34:00.000-08:00

Just while it was in my head, I thought I'd ask if anyone really had room to consider their impairment (and i mean its very existence, not the pain or fatigue that might come with) when they asked themselves 'What could be better about my life'

Not inspired by an Ouch thread. Oh no.

They say that the thing about life is sometimes you have to do

2006-02-15T11:36:00.000-08:00

They say that the thing about life is sometimes you have to do things you don't like. Rubbish, that's what the state of Eternal Denial is for. As if taking responsibility for your actions wasn't bad enough, there's added crappiness in the fact that when you do, the result is so small proportionate to the energy expended in anxiety. So small that you feel worse than you did to begin with.

This is me writing to my personal tutor. the tutor i have down as a referee for the council job. Y'know and i'm now telling him i want to go back to uni as well.

Confused? not as confused as me.

Dear Dr Baron,

I emailed you last week, because groupwise crashed I wasn’t sure if it got to you. I’m sorry if this is a repeat email.

I thought I should contact you because I haven’t spoken to anyone from the university since I suspended my course in September. I would like to try and go back to Nottingham this year, I still have to do my Exploring Historiography essay.

I was talking to different people and I can’t remember which member of staff I spoke to about my outstanding work. I think you are my personal tutor for this year though which is why I am emailing you so I can try and organise and see if I can still go back.

Thankyou,

Nicola Dormer

Why did it take me all of a week to sit down and write that.

Valentine's Day W@***r*

2006-02-14T10:51:00.000-08:00

So, I'm on the phone to Sam yesterday. Sam that Spawn of Googlespack, Non-Twin and...errr, Lewis Toria's Bloke are all convinced will one day wheel down the aisle with yours truly. Because we're both Disablededed and it looks so CUTE!

Let me make one thing absolutely clear, this is a half baked notion born out of a patronising stereotype. And he looks like he should be my brother.

That said, I would be lying if I said the conversation that ensued did not cause something approaching...fuzziness. Fuzziness. Then rage.

Sam: So what are you doing for Valentine's Day?

Stage one: Embarrassment

Nic: MMMidunnno

Stage two: Hurried confimation of availability.

Nothing.

Stage three: Agressive defense mechanism.

Why the fuck would i be doing anything?

[Pause]

Sam: I'm watching Crystal Palace.

Knobhead.

*Courtesy of Beautiful South's Valentine's Day W@*k.

Curtis Eller's American Circus: Taking Up Serpants Again [2004]

2006-02-06T13:16:00.000-08:00

I was drawn to this CD by Curtis Eller's jawdropping set at the Half Moon in Putney last Friday. Jawdropping not least because I thought he was going to fall offstage on top of me at one point. For all the high kicks, foot stomping and errr...yodelling , the New Yorker's performance had 'not as good on record' stamped all over it. A fair enough assumption, if I say so myself, when so much of his appeal lies in the fact he jumps, like, really REALLY high. And plays banjo.

The banjo on his latest album is neither layered a la Sufjan Stevens or coupled with the acoustic Stripes-like guitar favoured by Langhorne Slim. It sounds weedy in places and the female backing singers used to counter it are all a bit Jools Holland Boogie Woogie for this Turtle's liking. Taking Up Serpents' riff could be lifted straight out of Seven Swans, yet there's nothing godly about Eller's worldview. For one thing he's stuck in 1935. That makes him a rarity amoung the Americana Folkies. 'Slim makes all the right noises, but is essentially an uptight child of the Noughties ; Iron & Wine, hell, Iron & Wine's last EP includes the line 'We were born to fuck each other'. Only Curtis thinks to embrace the era he owes so much to. When he sings 'Come back to the movies Buster Keaton' you suspect he means it. That is why this record deserves a second look. Eller and his Circus aren't just playing to revivalism, they really care.

Courts, journos, Luncheon Vouchers and Nina Myskow

2006-01-17T11:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged for a while. For some people this statement or variations thereof is followed by 'Sorry'. I'm not sorry, readers. I am a downtrodden (ex) employee of The Man and I will not apologise if, during my toils, I could not find the time to lift my weary hand to the keyboard. No lie, for the best part of a fortnight you'd be lucky if I said anything more profound than 'Just to let you know we can't give change on Luncheon Vouchers'. Incidentally, what the hell is Luncheon.

ANNNYWAAY

Today I am enthused. Yes, enthused. I saw Nina Myskow on the telly.

To explain.

About a year ago, Fatwack, T.B.S.O.F'S resident Lovable Scouser said "Turtle, you really are the Nina Myskow of this site" and that he meant it 'affectionately'. Fair do's. Except I had no flaming idea who this Myskow person was. All I got was a load of Laugh Out Loud symbols and winky faces from the forum and a grunt of faint agreement from my mum. Now I know what she looks like. OK, as it happens, a nondescript Woman Of A Certain Age.

I'm working on two job application forms at once, three if you count the one for the school where Mary Ann Leneghan went before the bastard drug dealers killed her, says Googlespack, on an ego trip. I realise my casual swearing probably diminishes the impact of the word bastard. If you agree I'd look at the word again until it regains all its lowdown filthy scumbag...words don't actually do this thing justice. Talking of justice, the men accused of killing Mary Ann are on trail at the moment, we know this because the journos outside Court keep eyeing my mum to see if she's 'involved in proceedings'. She's not, but that didn't stop the admin girl she was walking with touching up her makeup for the cameras. Classy.

As if my asides could get any more trivial, the spaces outside the court are Disabled spaces, and form the bulk of disabled parking in the town centre. Except its not so long as the BBC news vans take it up.

Now thats what I call stream of consciousness.

Bombing of the press

2005-12-18T11:29:00.000-08:00

I've been looking at journalism stuff again. Every time I do the adrenaline kicks in, I feel vaugely sick and I can't focus on what album to put on next let alone a work experience application. I should really decrease my caffiene intake.

I gave the BBC radio Berkshire placement form a shot last week, what transpired was burbling something about the importance of local radio for communities, particularly in an area so frequently overshadowed by London if you live under the wrong frequency. I know. Sweet FA about why I, Nicola, want in on their glamourous world of IDR traffic reports, Prudential land buying scandal, Fleetwood Mac, our MPs who are variously being shat on by the tories or are Tories and, here's hoping, Pret Sandwiches. Whaddya mean no? They gave me them when I worked for Yell when they were starting up their site. For a week. When I was 15. They said I could write better than some of their staff. If their personnel are outshone by a monbrowed pubescent I can only assume they are succombing to IDR petrol fumes. Hell, I should so put that on my CV. "Some IT type in Ben Sherman told me I was good 6 years ago. Possibly high".

JIMMARGH! (sorry)

2005-12-17T13:39:00.000-08:00

I'm going to try very hard not to turn this into an "Appalled From South Oxfordshire" job
I don't like Jimmy Carr's Disabled jokes.
I laughed repeatedly at his misogynistic ones
I'm thinking, why is this? I have crutches AND breasts! Look! No I mean...no, fuck off, I'll email Ouch about you so I will!

Jimmy Carr Live, shown on C4 last night and filmed (I think) at UCL Bloomsbury (on whose steps the author nearly met an untimely death at a Divine Comedy gig) was...well, Jimmy Carr Live. Here is a man who not only thrives on being a slimey smartarse prick; he has somehow compelled 2000 people to watch him being a slimey smartarse prick. And that's before we even consider the ticket fee.

Carr delivers the kind of deadpan one-liners that so descimate the PC brigade that you a. can't not laugh at; b. you feel obliged to laugh at lest you inadvertantly join the PC brigade. That Carr relies on this doesn't reflect well on his talent, I guess. Like, laughing out of fear of mediocrity. Like I said in the great Should Beautiful South Release A Covers Album thread of 2004:

"I would sit on the fence, but I can't bloody climb it"

If there was anything that licensed a comedian to make crip gags, Carr then surely doesn't have it. As for the difference between his sexism and his Disablism, it's a tricky one and this is where the remnants of my argument look set to vapourise.

In the 'women' gags that form the bulk of his set, Carr repeatedly refers to his * gulp* girlfriend, he does the usual banter with female audience members. Again, with the 'gay' jokes he has some kind of dialogue, at least acknowledgement that 'the gays are listening'.

Don't talk about taboos, because him and countless others check em like a fucking shopping list, the problem with his and the worst Disabled material is that it makes no attempt to ... * shit I need a word *...errr humanise (?)...its subjects.

I increasingly do not believe Disability humour is solely the realm of Disabled people. In referrencing the culture and the politics, I think they are better qualified, but there is definetley a place for the non-Disabled understand of well...crips. Comedy included. For a start some of the funniest and most observant jokes have come from Normies like Ricky Gervais, and some of the most pisspoor cliched bullshit has come from my 'own kind'.

The difference doesn't actually lie in whether you walk straight, think straight or pee in the right place, the difference is whether you see Disabled people in any kind of productive and respectful way. As humans, innit.

To Carr, and to crucially his crowd, The Crips Are The Other. They are the joke, they are not commentary, they are not irony and they sure as hell aren't sat in the audience. Or sat in bed drinking Diet Coke and intermittently listening to The KKK Took My Baby Away*

Except they are. And therein lies the shite.

[*The Ramones song, you understand]