It… well, it didn’t exactly turn out as originally planned. It has far too many words (words! They get everywhere), it couldn’t decide what genre it wanted to be, and the happy ending I was planning never arrived – but it’s actually done and dusted.

Part of the conditions of entry are that submissions have to be posted on a blog, so here it is: ladies and gentlemen, A Cleaner World!

A Cleaner World [PDF]

The libretto is for a Perambulator, a Steward and a Chorus of nine, on a London back street. The Perambulator – frankly, an insufferable hipster – strolls on, stage left. Two members of the Chorus march on stage right, in well-ironed municipal uniforms, pushing litter carts with brooms attached; at this stage, other members of the Chorus can be heard but not seen.

PERAMBULATOR
I happened on two street sweepers
Commanding yellow carts down Cannon Street,
Whose conversation caught my ears.

CHORUS
Something in the silence
that makes us sing
Something in the darkness
that makes us bring
Light to the lamp-post,
Speed to the trains
That run through the city
Like sliced open veins.

PERAMBULATOR
Ah! The poetry of the proletariat!
Like a potent wine leading me astray,
To where the real action’s at.

The full Chorus arrives on stage from every direction, while the Perambulator stays at front stage left. The Chorus form up into a 3×3 grid facing stage right, with the Steward in front of them. The Steward is a martial type in an impossibly smart municipal uniform with fancy decorations on it.

STEWARD
Our history is the history
Of the dream of the city;

CHORUS
We keep the streets safe

STEWARD
A city built from dreams,
A city stitched in seams.

CHORUS
We keep the streets clean

STEWARD
Which continually split
From the fullness of it!

CHORUS
We keep the streets safe

STEWARD
And continually spill
Not for good – only ill.

CHORUS
We keep the streets clean

STEWARD
NO MORE!

The Chorus falls conspicuously silent. The Perambulator realises he may have made a mistake, and starts looking for a quick exit. When one of the Chorus notices him, he stops in his tracks.

STEWARD
These dreams deface our city,
And now we must run them down.

The Perambulator takes a single step forward, and the entire Chorus turns to face him.

STEWARD
Bring them to heel without pity,
Bury them on unhallowed ground.

The Perambulator takes another step, and the Chorus takes a fully synchronised step towards him.

PERAMBULATOR
Please don’t pay any mind to me.
I’m on my way to a squat party.

The Perambulator takes a third step, and the Chorus surges forward smoothly as one unit. The Chorus moves around the Perambulator, who staggers towards the centre of the stage disoriented, while the Chorus encircles him.

STEWARD
Tonight there shall be no party,
Squats have no place in this town.

Once he gets his balance back, the Perambulator tries to reason with the Chorus, while they sing over him.

PERAMBULATOR
A city without dreams
Is hollow at its core!

CHORUS
Filled with contented people
Who never want for more.

PERAMBULATOR
But what will we desire
Once you strangle ambition?

CHORUS
Endless tidy monuments
To our own sacred mission.

PERAMBULATOR
Then there’ll be nothing left
For people to believe!

CHORUS
Believe in what you want
As long as you behave.

PERAMBULATOR
How will you know if my
Behaviour makes your grade?

CHORUS
Little cameras spying
On every promenade.

PERAMBULATOR
What –
What if Iain Sinclair wants to
Stroll around outdoors?

CHORUS
Permission will not be granted.

STEWARD
Except on officially-licensed tours.

The Perambulator pulls himself together for one last attempt at pompous oratory.

PERAMBULATOR
I want to keep hold of my dreams, my past and future mixed and matched;
The dragons of my childhood, the seductions of my teenage years,
Made up of misplaced hands, the little triumphs of my little life.

Even nightmares have their place; disaster and regret must be given their due.
The turn of a shoulder by a hurtful lover, the crackling disappointment
Of dreams gone to ruin, the loneliness of the long distance.

CHORUS
There is no time for disaster,
There is no room for regret
We’ll sweep those up the faster
Into the cart called Forget.

STEWARD
Except for those seductions;
Best keep them to yourself.

The Chorus begins to close the circle on the Perambulator, taking a step with every line.

CHORUS
Numb to the night,
Blind to the sight
Of the work being done;
Of the changes to come.
The dreams of the street
Belong to us now;
The fall of your feet –

Several newspapers are blown onto the far corner of the stage, and the desperate Perambulator points over to them.

PERAMBULATOR
Look! It’s terrible what people discard!
Windblown copies of the Evening Standard!

The entire Chorus turns to see where he is pointing, all of them reaching for their brooms. He takes advantage of their distraction, pushing over several carts and breaking through their circle. As they retrieve their carts, he skids to the far side of the stage, half-hidden in the wings. The lights drop out one-by-one on the Chorus, who disperse from the stage in different directions, taking the newspapers with them, while the Perambulator keeps his spotlight. The Chorus’ departing lines are sung low, and are repeated as they leave the stage until they can no longer be heard.

CHORUS
Slippery as seals
With the grease of the night
Back in the barracks
With the morning light.

Eventually only the Steward is left on stage, standing at the furthest point away from the Perambulator, a single spotlight on him as he sweeps the stage vigorously.

PERAMBULATOR
Now my nights are haunted by a hundred carts;
Nobody believes the things I’ve seen.
Waiting for the day the revolution starts:
The new broom of an old, old regime.

The Steward’s sweeping slows as he lifts his head and notices the Perambulator. The Perambulator stares back at the Steward, as he throws his brush onto his cart and wheels it offstage. The Perambulator is left alone on the stage, but after a few seconds his spotlight disappears too.

FIN

Nothing to Share Tracklist (Track/Artist/Album)

Bedtime, the Jazzment, After Soul
Don’t Expect The Sun, Rhubra, Slow Noise
Lovehearts, Moth Equals, Dreamcoat
Broken Dreams, John Whitehorse, Changes EP
Danza Azteca (DJ Contradiction Remix), Nahuatl Sound System, Remixes Nahuales EP
MCMLXXXI Choir (A.B.B.M. Remix), Andy & Zeus
Fading Light, Revolted Child, Away EP
Nighttiger, Blocktreat, Traditionals
Strange Arabic Ritual, Hassan K., 30 Birds
Ciphers, The Mellowtones, Overdue
Paws, Enjoyed, Oscar
Daddy (Pedestrian Remix), Emeli Sande
Dusty (feat Jessica Brown), CHLLNGR, Haven

It was a long walk to nowhere
In the first days of summer.
From beneath the slabs and timbers
Came the sounds of the kitchen:
The clatter of pans, the swish of knives;
Poseidon preparing dinner in the galley.
Overhead, greedy linesmen throw out,
Drop nets, reel in, sit back.

On the boardwalk, everything is new,
Except for everything that’s old;
Rusted and remembered and lashed beneath,
The family secret, kept from sight.
While busy cousins bow and snap
The blue sky, the blue sea,
The perfect backdrop for posterity.
Time without end, steps without end.

Now this is bloody, hard-won history
Cleaned up for the crowds of tourists,
Hungry for dinner, happy for their moment
Toot-toot-tooting along the tiny tracks
In a lifesize toy train made of rainbows.
The immigrant mutter of hands turned bloody
On ropes and beams and sacks and sails
Sinks beneath the gulls and waves today;
It won’t be heard again this summer.

(April 2012)

Tracklist (Track/Artist/Album)

Aniki, Hiroshima, Room88
Breath in the Air, Great Skies, Great Skies
Mr Bear Boney, Bear Bones, Ursa Major
The Pledge, PsyLoFi, Slumbermill
First of All and in Conclusion, Moon Bounce, Darn Your Best Frock
Sumbody, FALCONS, Remixxes Vol.1
Chinatown, Kucka, New Weird Australia: Vox
Vocal snippet: Kid Koala on Panel Borders
Sunnshine, Leonard Dstroy, Inner Exit
Painted Heron, Electric Hambone, Downturn Boogie
Tiny Violin, Shark?, Exploding In Sound presents Wax Unwound
Soul For Sale, Jenova 7, I Heart Noise: Boston Not LA
Ghost is Dub – God is Dust, Ayato versus Ghosts, Stillborn Dub

In the end it’s all just markings on the wall;
That painting sends a message, tells a story.
Those red dots? The seeds they planted.
The three red lines; the tracks they made.
(The blue dot means 20% off marked price.)
Sights are missing, sights are missed,
It’s all just markings on the walls.
The scrawl of marker pen on the cubicle
is the trail left by Friday night migrations,
Trawling night waters in the rain-slick streets
(sadly for cock, not for deep-sea fish).
In daylight the same streets curl back on themselves
Like lizard wriggling through the desert;
Like dolphin skimming across the sea.
I see you in the crowd; but I am just dreaming.

(October 2011)

Tracklist

Колаж, fydhws, Fikcii
To find our Freedom, Peacespeakers, Message from Planet Earth
Soundbwoys Shot (Right in the face mix), Dub One!, Blow Dubs EP
2-02-007-06 (Piece of Shh mix), Ultra Red, Blok70:Translations
Slippershell, Kristen Hersh, Speedbath
Plastic Lullaby, Lux Lisbon, Your Heart Is A Weapon The Size Of Your Fist
Bliss, Slow, Father EP
Little Coloured Lights, Rob Gillbank, Little Green Lights EP
Harpsong, Scarf Face, Let Them Eat Cake
Bebot, Up Until Now, Gresham’s Disco

“THE EDITUR OF THE TIMES PAPER

“Sur, — May we beg and beseech your proteckshion and power. We are Sur, as it may be, livin in a Wilderniss, so far as the rest of London knows anything of us, or as the rich and great people care about. We live in muck and filth. We aint got no priviz, no dust bins, no drains, no water-splies, and no drain or suer in the hole place. The Suer Company, in Greek St., Soho Square, all great, rich and powerfool men, take no notice watsomdever of our complaints. The Stenche of a Gully-hole is disgustin. We all of us suffer, and numbers are ill, and if the Colera comes Lord help us.

“Some gentlemans comed yesterday, and we thought they was comishioners from the Suer Company, but they was complaining of the noosance and stenche our lanes and corts was to them in New Oxforde Strect. They was much surprized to see the seller in No. 12, Carrier St., in our lane, where a child was dyin from fever, and would not believe that Sixty persons sleep in it every night. This here seller you couldent swing a cat in, and the rent is five shillings a week; but theare are greate many sich deare sellars. Sur, we hope you will let us have our complaints put into your hinfluenshall paper, and make these landlords of our houses and these comishioners (the friends we spose of the landlords) make our houses decent for Christions to live in. Preaye Sir com and see us, for we are living like piggs, and it aint faire we shoulde be so ill treted.

“We are your respeckfull servents in Church Lane, Carrier St., and the other corts. Teusday, Juley 3, 1849.”

- a letter to the Times, 5 July 1849 [quoted in Blount, pp. 342-3, via The Victorian Web]

2012

“London Fire Brigade is calling for a spotlight to be shone on the growing problem of the capital’s fire trap “hidden housing.” The Brigade says there is emerging evidence of a growth in ad-hoc “back garden developments” which see sheds and other unsuitable buildings being used as accommodation… Rita Dexter, Deputy Commissioner of the London Fire Brigade, said: “Beds in sheds, garages being used as housing, industrial units being used as sleeping accommodation – these are all potentially lethal fire traps. It’s inevitable that people living in these shoddy developments rely on far riskier ways of heating, cooking and lighting their home. They are also being exploited by unscrupulous landlords who are happy to take their money without any regard for their safety.” In November fire safety inspectors in Brent swooped to close a number of commercial buildings being used as living accommodation by around 150 people after uncovering some of the worst fire safety risks they had ever seen. The Brigade was alerted to the problem following a fire in an office block where firefighters rescued six people. A subsequent inspection of the building revealed a seventeen rooms with over 50 people living in them. Fire safety officers found virtually no fire safety features inside and believe a more fire serious fire could easily have ripped through the entire building and residents would have struggled to escape.”

- London Fire Brigade, News Release 23 January 2012

2175

- Trafalgar Square Shanty, Robert Graves and Didier Madoc, Postcards from the Future

Pre-21st century political history seems to have been defined by an interlocking series of oppositions – what we might call Polar Memes. Left/right was the most obvious of these but not the most durable – the prize for longest-running political meme looks like authoritarian/libertarian, which is so deeply rooted in our philosophy that its demise seems unthinkable. Sometimes it’s necessary to think the unthinkable, though; the time has definitely come to question the Polar Memes.

If you turn over that authoritarian/libertarian meme, it turns out there’s another meme hiding underneath it, possibly the Ur-meme: the tension between the individual and the collective. Although you trace this one right back to ancient Greece (just like pretty much 95% of philosophical concerns), it became really important in the post-Medieval period, reached full flower during the Enlightement, and hasn’t stopped dancing yet. DISCO INTERLUDE.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Yet Polar Memes can die – they just take a loooooooong time. Left/right is no longer common sense – not (just) because of the persistent decline of American political discourse, but because of the convergent politics that Europe excels at, where left- and right-wing parties now hover around the centre of the political buffet like vultures.¹ While the concepts of left- and right-wing might still have some utility, the tension between them has slackened like dad’s belt at Christmas.

In individualist polities (which are generally post-Enlightenment), there’s a palpable fear of the collective: it’s what turned anti-communism from a statement of personal preference into a declaration of Cold War. In communalist polities, meanwhile, there’s a distinct unease about the role of the individual, creating a tension that can resolve in amusing ways (a discussion for another time). Let’s focus on what happens after this particular Polar meme dies off – because dying it is.

The truth is that these Polar memes mask a spectrum of opinions and preferences, and are only presented as dichotomies when somebody is trying to sell you something. Nobody lives a completely individual or completely communal life: people just aren’t built that way. Instead, the two are always jostling up against each other, waxing and waning, life’s rich tapestry, etc, etc. So why do I think this Polar Meme in particular is such a problem?

It’s a problem because politics as it is currently structured relies almost entirely on the individual and the collective as the primary concepts. This doesn’t just put individuals in a difficult position, it’s an accident waiting to happen on a grand scale. Political parties form around blocks of opinions, but those opinion blocks can cut individuals off from their communities, which is why party politics isn’t good for communities or individuals; the alienated individual can derail communal interests through petulance, fraudulence or something else ending in -nce.

The creative tension between individual and communal served us well for a long time, especially while our modern polities were forming, but it may be time to leave them behind as the foundation myths of those polities. Instead we should be looking at the network as a replacement for both of them, although if you asked me right now to describe what that would look like, all I’d be able to do would be to sip my tea and look uncomfortable. All I know is this: the network seems to offer the only way of reconciling the two and forging a new type of polity. See also: Carne Ross.

Click here to view the embedded video.

1. Don’t ask me what US political parties hover around, but it’s definitely not the centre, unless by “centre” you mean “abject fucking stupidity”.

“If someone asked you to describe the psychological aspects of personhood, what would you say? Chances are, you’d describe things like thought, memory, problem-solving, reasoning, maybe emotion. In other words, you probably list the major headings of a cognitive psychology text-book. In cognitive psychology, we seem to take it for granted that these are, objectively, the primary components of “the mind” (even if you reject a mind/body dualism, you probably accept some notion that there are psychological processes similar to the ones listed above)… In fact, this conception of the mind is heavily influenced by a particular (Western) cultural background… To the extent that you agree that the modern conception of “cognition” is strongly related to the Western, English-speaking view of “the mind”, it is worth asking what cognitive psychology would look like if it had developed in Japan or Russia. Would text-books have chapter headings on the ability to connect with other people (kokoro) or feelings or morality (dusa) instead of on decision-making and memory? This possibility highlights the potential arbitrariness of how we’ve carved up the psychological realm – what we take for objective reality is revealed to be shaped by culture and language.”

- Sabrina Golonka, How Universal Is The Mind?

2.

“Three centuries earlier, the new discipline of physics could not proceed until Isaac Newton appropriated words that were ancient and vague—force, mass, motion, and even time – and gave them new meanings. Newton made these terms into quantities, suitable for use in mathematical formulas. Until then, motion (for example) had been just as soft and inclusive a term as information. For Aristotelians, motion covered a far-flung family of phenomena: a peach ripening, a stone falling, a child growing, a body decaying. That was too rich. Most varieties of motion had to be tossed out before Newton’s laws could apply and the Scientific Revolution could succeed. In the nineteenth century, energy began to undergo a similar transformation: natural philosophers adapted a word meaning vigor or intensity. They mathematicized it, giving energy its fundamental place in the physicists’ view of nature.”

- James Gleick, The Information

3.

“In the eighteenth century and since, Newton came to be thought of as the first and greatest of the modern age of scientists, a rationalist, one who taught us to think on the lines of cold and untinctured reason. I do not see him in this light. I do not think that any one who has pored over the contents of that box which he packed up when he finally left Cambridge in 1696 and which, though partly dispersed, have come down to us, can see him like that. Newton was not the first of the age of reason. He was the last of the magicians, the last of the Babylonians and Sumerians, the last great mind which looked out on the visible and intellectual world with the same eyes as those who began to build our intellectual inheritance rather less than 10,000 years ago.”

- John Maynard Keynes, Newton, the Man

Have I said anything I started out to say about being good? God, I don’t know. A stranger is shot in the street, you hardly move to help. But if half an hour before, you spent just ten minutes with the fellow and knew a little about him and his family, you might just jump in front of his killer and try to stop it. Really knowing is good. Not knowing, or refusing to know, is bad, or amoral, at least. You can’t act if you don’t know. Acting without knowing takes you right off the cliff.

— Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes