Thinking

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It feels uncomfortable to post pretty photos when children are detained in solitary confinement (regardless of your politics, can we agree that solitary confinement is torture? And that, if anyone is to be tortured–which I don’t think should happen, but if you are ok with it maybe you can also agree that–it should not be children?) and people are working for no money to make gadgets we sure like but maybe don’t need, not the way we (all) need things like food & water, shelter, and love. And people in Japan are still suffering from the effects of the tsunami and earthquake almost a year ago. And US politics seems more and more insane from the outside, not to mention that some people think it’s ok to make this much money when other people on earth make this much. Or less. Or work in indentured positions. Or are outright enslaved. And still there are people who think that we shouldn’t have to take care of the people around us (by ensuring that they–and we–have access to education, infrastructure, and healthcare). And that’s the tip of the iceberg.

Which is why I haven’t been around a ton. I have a hard time reconciling my inner and private life (which is complex, contradictory) with an online life that at its best is often still flat and dimensionless. That I am making poems/objects/pictures/books and also I am worrying about the lives of the people around me, the ones I know and the ones I don’t. (Thanks, Juliana Spahr.)

STITCH

But I have been working on things, and I will try to be present here more often. I just want to find a way to be here that acknowledges all the things I am thinking about, and just posting photos of nice stuff doesn’t really do that for me. On the other hand, making things is part of the way I am in-the-world and it’s part of (and formational of) my ethics. I just don’t want to contribute to a blithe ignorance of the privilege I (we) have to live like this.

brugge

gent

We were in Belgium and then the US and then Belgium again (this time joined by friends for New Year’s). I got pneumonia the day we walked off the plane in Minneapolis. Wow. So that was what that was. The first time I’ve ever felt like I would really never get better. Made me appreciate antibiotics; another first. Then back to Nottingham and the semester started almost immediately. I’m teaching three different places for a little while. It’s exhausting though I like the time on the train and I like the walk through Leicester (one of the places). And I like the teaching. But the two weeks I was meant to slow down didn’t happen so I feel like I’m on a roll without brakes, just scrambling to catch up or keep up with this thing that’s much bigger than I am and that is running faster and faster.

I think one reason it’s running faster (or feels like that) is that about two weeks ago we found out I will, with about 90% certainty, have to leave the UK in July. My visa will expire, and due to some administrative snafus at the university, I won’t be able to reapply. This wasn’t the plan–I even submitted my thesis early to make sure I’d be in time for getting a new visa. But. No. That’s not what’s happening (apparently). Okay. Happy New Year. So we are making new plans. Plans for another time zone. It will, as always, be fine. Just trying to wrap my mind around the (90%) fact of leaving this (difficult and often disagreeable) place which, nonetheless, has somehow become home.

in het regen

on ferry

light

linden

de blinde reiziger

The final one is a bookshop in Gent that also sells artists’ books, prints, some very ‘serious’ ephemera…I love it. It is owned and solely staffed, as far as I have made out, by a man in his 70s. Extremely crabby. Smokes in the back room. Does not like you to touch too many things. Or look too closely at the prints. Or, God forbid, breathe on anything. The last day we were in Gent it was pouring rain all day and I was walking with some friends and took them there, but only to look in the window, since I can’t imagine the looks and tttttt-tttt-tt! noises we would get for dripping on his floor.

It is kind of my ideal future shop, too.

I am making a project for 2012. It will have one piece every week. I will be able to show you soon (even though I don’t have the web-space set up, I have been doing the project. Pneumonia [! yes.] got in the way of my end-of-year plans). So far the year has been full of bad news. My friends says it is like a box of chocolate: you eat all the bad ones, then you know only good ones are left. I hope so. Anyway I have lots of plans, and two fingers to the bad news. I will make my own luck and I will be brave.

Happy new year!

#N30

cobblers

chestnuts

When the royal wedding took place in April and the whole country was shut down for a day no one said it would ruin the economy, despite the fact that taxpayers in the UK subsidised it. So why does a public-sector strike for one day bring up predictions of scuttling the economy? Strikers today are in public services (teachers, firefighters, nurses, construction workers), and all in areas which the current UK government has threatened with ‘austerity measures’. Basically, this means that these workers would get less money when they retire–and have to work to an older age, and pay in more each year, to get it. This is how the UK government wants to save money. Not by asking the financial sector to clean up its act, or asking people who make, say, over £60000/yr (the City is London’s financial district) to take a pay cut. By asking people who make these figures to lessen their pension. How fair is that? To me it is not right that a nurse might–at her peak–make less than half of what a banker does. But beyond my personal valuation of a nurse’s work over a banker’s, it doesn’t seem right to me that someone–anyone–should have to give up their post-retirement security (or have to work longer or pay more than other people to get it). I am sure there are people who would argue their own willingness to work til they are 70, or to work 80-hour weeks, or whatever it is. And someone else has already answered them better than I could. But I don’t want those things. I don’t want them for anyone else, either. I would like to live in a world where people can work until a reasonable age–maybe 60?– and then retire, and be taken care of. I don’t think that’s impossible. There doesn’t seem to be a shortage of money. There does seem to be a lack of equitable ways to share it. So that’s why I’m in solidarity with the strikers here today. This isn’t only about the actual effects of these potential cuts. It’s also about the kind of society those cuts symbolise. I don’t want to live in that society.

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