Friday, 5 March 2010

I've been listening to/watching this song all day:

Saturday, 6 June 2009

Another post.

Oh my goodness it's six o'clock already! Which means in only an hour I'm to be at the Assembly Rooms to meet friends to see Microcomedy (FREE!) and I still haven't managed to make myself a sandwich ('lunch'). Sitting on my bed, hungry. Was going to spend a few hours reading Midnight's Children. Will do that, actually. Tea, sandwich, Midnight's Kids. Right.

Tuesday, 2 June 2009

Blogs blogs blogs. People write them and they have lovely flashy features and mine is still kind of unformed. And incoherent.
I'm reading Midnight's Children for the first time properly and am loving it. I always find it quite strange that Westerners have taken it to their heart so much because it is just so Indian; every thought is so Indian. 'I have probably said enough, too, about my interest in creating a literary idiolect that allowed the rhythms and thought patterns of Indian languages to blend with the idiosyncracies of 'Hinglish' and 'Bambaiyya', the polyglot street-slang of Bombay.'

My little multicoloured attic room is looking slightly more pleasing now that I've cleared more of the floor. The blind (is that what it's called?) is down on the window keeping the room relatively cool, and I like this, it feels summery and elegant, because I'm thinking of havelis and tents and cool things like that. Joe next door hasn't yet caught on. Summer equals sunshine and he sits with his shirt off sweating and surprised by the heat.

Empty unplanned spaces scare me, but they shouldn't. I'm just worried I might end up doing nothing for a summer. That is a legitimate and awful worry. And when I have no plans my parents can jump in and push and prod me in numerous directions, usually boring and THAT's horrible. BUT now a couple of months will be spent in Rajasthan doing fieldwork for my dissertation, to do with the forms that performing arts take in Hadoti, which is the region I live in. How cool! I'll be recording songs that may never have been recorded before. The awesome thing is that the Rajasthani government has just adopted a Vikas aur Viraasat (Development and Heritage) programme about 'strengthening culture in the villages' and what I'm doing could actually help with that - I feel so *current*! Hadoti arts are far less studied than stuff out in western Rajasthan, which is a desert and so much more exotic. But Hadoti's beautiful too.

I need to reply to Glori's Fbook message ('gay theatre???')Haha :)
I did a (truly awesome) play at a festival in Dublin just before exams and that was an amazing and unusual experience in many respects. I won't talk about that much now but we had bowler hats, lots and lots of props in a red suitcase, red umbrellas, now this just becomes a list; the Grafton hotel, green shamrock crocodile socks, Front Lounge, 'I'm not wondergirl, not wonderwoman', EUROVISION!, revision on beautiful sofas, the Outhouse Theatre, huge free pots of tea, lovely lovely people, Gala performance, extracts from brilliant plays, goody bags!!, sausage stotties, rain, a play featuring two naked women shuffling around and making weird weird mechanical noises which we went along to (it was the only play at our theatre between our two performances) like naughty children and SOMEONE decided we should all move to the front row and I tell you, I thought I was going to die from trying to restrain so much laughter. Or laugh out loud which would have been really really rude and inappropriate.

Honestly. I would act it out to you if I could. They had completely blank faces and were wearing nothing but shoes - one walking boots and one flip-flops and - wait, Callum and Ben will try to describe it to you.

I hope that works.

Anjali xx

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

I can't believe this is one of the top recommended articles. What a rubbish, useless article.

I every story has already been told.
Maybe innovation is in the way in which you tell them.
I've spent hours reading an article the sum total of which can be said in one sentence. I'm so mad at myself.

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

The use of music as torture. Man alive. They played prisoners in Guantanamo Bay Barney the dinosaur's annoying little 'I love you, you love me' thing. All of me revolts against that, in particular. Just the most cruel, cruel sadistic thing. Also Christina Aguilera's 'Let's Get Dirty' - imagine the humiliation for Muslim prisoners.
* yes, haha, news - torturers in Gunatanamo Bay are cruel and sadistic. *Obviously*.

The reason I picked up on this is that after a certain time - early evening, in Durham bus station, they were playing the most awful music ever - Christmas songs sung by (it seemed)mickey mouse. Just the most annoying and bizarre and inhumanly cutesy voice, and we reckon the idea was to stop young people from thinking the bus station is a nice place to hang out. So [*mucho indignation!*] I object to the sneaky underhandedness of it, I object to the demonisation of people just because they wear lots of eyeliner and don't sit on the seats - and who are they doing it for? Their 'valued customers'? Because the people taking buses aren't going to thank you either, pal. I object to making the bus station a terribly bleak and cheerless place at Christmas, of all times! Oh, don't give me that 'it's happy Christmas music' - it's not and you know it. It's also sad that there isn't really anywhere for kids to hang out in Durham. There isn't even much of a disused playground. There's all this stuff catering to students - and the under-10s are all locked up at home, presumably - but where do the teenagers go? And how much should we be worrying about teenagers anyway?

Cue launching into 'kids these days' speech.

Kids these days are watched too much. Way too much. When I was working at the After School Club in my gap year, that was the main thing, I think, that I took away from it. We needed one adult per 6 kids or something, and our job was to watch them, sort out scrapes, make sure they didn't do anything dangerous. We provided the activities, and they played by the rules. Of course I loved the opportunity to observe/participate in the world these kids created. Loved it like anything. But by golly, how much of it was any of my business? When I was a kid, I barely remember adults even existing. Especially at Hebron. Imagine if all the time we were playing we were being watched. How awful, how wrong. Imagine if whenever someone swore a teacher leapt out from behind a bush. You can't and shouldn't protect kids from everything. Friendships form and break up, fights happen, and adults should only be brought in as a last resort. Obviously, if you're there are as an adult and you see an argument break out, you're going to step in. So just don't be there. Stop spoiling everything.

Kids should keep each other entertained. 'Keeping kids off the streets'? I long - always - for a world where kids play together on the pavements. It's part of my love for 'street culture' - life being lived in public places, as a visible community. Britain is so rubbish at this, but there are all those old photos of kids playing hopscotch. Urban India is pretty rubbish. House to car to shop to car to house - oh its awful, there are no public spaces, Delhi doesn't have a city centre. Endless 'colonies' with strangers living next door to each other. Dundlod was beautiful - kids ran around the streets and were in and out of each others houses, as was everyone, all the time. Could it be because there were no cars? Because there is nothing in the house you are afraid might get stolen? Because 'the house' simply does not have all the meanings it has for the more affluent?