It is a little known fact that the celebratory song sang on the anniversary of an individual member of a species’ orbit round the nearest stellar object shares the same melody anywhere in the galaxy and probably universe.

One particular planet of note is Jabar-el-tezz-E-79-Alphabeeta where the tune is sung through out the 482 continents, what is peculiar (peculiar in this instance as it was awarded ‘most peculiar fact of the year’ 18 consecutive years in a row at the Bejazzle Gamma Delta Annual ‘Interesting Facts About the Universe Awards’ for being the gross mis-understatement [sic] of the year) is the fact that none of the natives of these countries had ever made contact with the other due to the vertical acid seas unique to the planet.

The prize was not awarded a 19th time as an independent adjudicator of  the Universal Guinisss Book of Records noted that at the 18th Annual Awards a representative from each of the 482 countries’ national birthday song institute attended the after-show party at the Bejazzle Gamma Delta bi-centennial awards – united for the first time ever (through innovations developed by the Alkaline Interstellar Corporation).

All 482 representatives joined together in an impromptu rendition of ‘Harp-EEE-Beerth-Deayi-tewyoo’, at which time an accident involving a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, a bit too much Beerth-Deayi Cake and a hat led several representatives to experience temporal existential crises inextricably causing a local temporal event returning all the guest to their native lands precisely 482 years (years being relative in this context) prior to the date they left.

Guinness Book representative Nor-EEs MaRg+Wirrrrtah hypothesized that the origin of the anniversary melody coincidence was the after-show party sing-song. Though this does not explain why or how the tune has been observed on one spectrum or another on every single inhabited planet in the galaxy.

In addition, the melody has also been heard on uninhabited worlds such as Blarg-Tar-979 where it is generated by light refracting off the crystalline rock falls and Shamshal-Tello 4 and by the winds blowing through the 482 mile Glelty-Flarl canyon.

The significance of the number 482 is something that Intergalactic Orbital Anniversary Anthropologists do their best to avoid thinking about.

Apologies to Douglas Adams

This is a follow-up to a post I wrote 3 years ago entitled 7 Revelations of Being Caffeine Free.

Apparently it takes only 100mg per day of caffeine per day to become addicted (that’s about 1 cup of coffee or 3 bars of chocolate). Unfortunately I returned to the slippery black slope about 5 weeks ago in order to overcome a productive slump and hit some ridiculous self-imposed deadlines.

It took me 2 weeks and 3-4 cups a day to realise I was once again totally hooked and further 2 weeks to realise that I could not beat coffee on the head by gradually weaning myself off. The ceremony of preparation, sensory stimulation and buzz were all too alluring to stop gradually. And I knew I was postponing the pain whilst stealing from the future and developing a bad habit.

I love the taste of good coffee but the effects are poisonously tempting. It helps me write, lets my brain work on overdrive hosing words on to the page but the ideas I produce are not lateral, it is creativity on stabilizers. Ideas are two dimensional. Cogent and sharp but linear.

Coffee is wonderfully evil because like the bookmakers wife, lady luck, it flirts with you then when you’re addicted it fucks you in the ass – you have to dose up, drink more to get the same effects. Then. Oh god. Then you’re truly shafted.

Make no mistake. Coffee is a drug, albeit one that is well disguised and integrated with culture, economics and the industrial machine. If you dispute any of these facts you’re deluded, that’s the drug messing with your sense of reason.

If you need a coffee at the start of the day before you can face the world, you’re an addict, a drug dependant junkie. If you queue up at Starbucks for an overpriced fix of black hot water you’re a junkie, same as the Heroin addict queueing up for his fix of Methadone. Junkie queueing for junk!

Caffeine is a bitter, white crystalline xanthine alkaloid that is a psychoactive stimulant drug. Look this shit up.

Some lessons learned from this episode :

1. Deadlines are man made. If you can’t make them, reset them. Negotiate.

2. Taking stimulants is like having a credit card on your life. You pay it back with interest.

3. If you feel like you need a kick, take a nap. Drink water, look at your nutrition or perhaps get a full blood count done. You may be deficient in something.

4. Listen to your body. Sleep when you’re tired. Take naps.

5. When you choose food or drink don’t just look to feed your mouth or brain. Feed your body.

6. Chemicals are no substitute to pacing, sleep, exercise and healthy food.

7. Coffee will fuck you up in the end. Caffeine is naturally occurring in plants as an insecticide. Its a poison. Your bodies’ reactions are as if it was being mildly poisoned.

The bad shit will gradually overtake your mind and body like Spiderman’s Alien Costume.

Tribute Written on Iniesta’s Shirt in World Cup Final: “Dani Jarque siempre con nosotros” (Dani Jarque always with us)

Winning for its own sake is not enough to win the greatest prize in football. Everybody is playing to win so simply wanting to win is not enough. 2010’s World Cup winners seemed a little bit hungrier than everyone else – throwing themselves behind the ball and around the pitch with gusto until the final whistle. They consistently found that extra energy to quel their opponents until they finally lifted the coveted prize.

Spain’s secret weapon was having one extra player amongst their team – one more player than every other team is allowed. One their inspired manager placed on the field but who was invisible to everyone else, invisible that is until  Andres Iniesta, removed his shirt in celebration at scoring the winning goal to reveal a dedication to his invisible team mate, Dani Jarque. The 26 year-old Spanish captain who died of a sudden heart attack last year before ever getting the chance to play in a match to represent his country.

Dani Jarque, although not physically present at the World Cup matches had surpassed the power of his physical form of an individual player to become a potent idea to inspire his friends who wanted to honour his memory. Don’t be surprised to discover that each of the Spanish players secretly wore vests with the same dedication.

“We wanted to feel his strength. We wanted to pay tribute to him in the world of football and this was the best opportunity to do so.”
Andres Iniesta

These were the magic words which united a team with powerful drive to win for a greater purpose.

If you want to win find something greater than winning as your reason to do it. You will smash your goals and surpass your imaginary opponents. Winning will also mean so much more than holding a trophy above your head.

Eton has produced so many Prime Ministers because they teach a different curriculum to state schools. State schools’ purpose is not intellectual development but socialization in obedience and subordination.

Eton’s curriculum includes: literacy (public speaking and writing), study of law, literature, philosophy, theology, history, understanding the workings of government, independent work, physical sports, access to leaders, responsibility, personal code of standards, morality, an appreciation of music, design, literature, drama, art, observation and recording, ability to deal with challenges, a habit of caution in reasoning to conclusions and the constant development and testing of judgement.

These are not the skills required to fill the majority of jobs, such as shop assistants and nurses.

With the current state of affairs after the 2010 Election in the UK and the subsequent Hung Parliament which left no political party with a clear majority,  one party, although with a few number of seats required to win than the other two major parties they were still in a very strong position as they wielded the seats/votes to tip things over the point required if they teamed up with either of the top two parties to be declared a winner and thus becoming the Government.

It was the Liberal Democrats that were being wooed by The Conservative Party and the Labour Party.  All with differing ideologies and agendas but the goal of taking leadership.

The news channels offered days of vacant ‘watch this space’ padding, commentary and speculation about what was being said behind closed doors. Nobody seemed to have a clue.  Things sounded a little something like this:

Stuff is happening, we know its happing, people are saying things; these things concern you but we don’t know exactly the things they are talking about are. We can say though, that we are certain they are saying things and stuff is happening. That is all you need to know.

So with all the great footage of people walking in and out of buildings for meetings and the brief statesments reporting that discussions were “going well” what were the strategies being implemented by the parties to get the very best deal for themselves?

Negotiate From A Position of Strength
If you have something that the other party wants you will have leverage in negotiations, its likely you’ll get what you ask for however if there are two parties that want what you have on offer you may as well be 10 feet tall and bullet proof. With two parties after you the game notches up a gear as you play them against each other to get yourself the best deal. In the case of the Lib Dems, they announced publicly that they would start negotiations with The Conservative Party as they had publicly stated prior to the election that they would attempt to do a deal with party with the most votes. This did not close the door on negotiations with The Labour Party it simply gave the Lib Dems more leverage, which brings us to the next tip:

The Door Is Never Closed
Even when an offer is rejected it does not mean it can be un-rejected.  Lets say for example, Nick Clegg (leader of the Liberal Democrats) wants Gordon Brown to stand-down as Prime Minister as a condition of beginning talks about double-teaming the electorate from the Governments benches in the House of Commons. Gordon says no. He’s happy to negotiate but he ain’t standing down, that’s not negotiable. Provided Nick has the leverage. Gordon can hold his ground and Nick can afford to call Gordon’s bluff. Rejecting an offer does not mean negotiations have ended. The door never being closed is another way of saying nothing is off the table. Which brings us nicely to our next tip.

Under The Table
All negotiation should be made in good faith, that is to say, you should never lie to get what you want. While negotiations are taking place there are other layers of communication that take place off-the-record. Now if you are a journalist you know that in real-life there is no such thing as off-the-record however in negotiation things do happen under the table. Like, for example the little informal chat whilst standing at the urinal between Peter Mandelson and Paddy Ashdown. Its an opportunity to sound the other party out without the intense pressure that adversarial negotiation can bring about. Its quite common for a Judge in Court to send litigants out to the corridor to bang their heads together to do a deal. Court is an example of a failure to negotiate and should always be considered as a last option to reach a solution. Solutions not arguments.

Sleep On It
Negotiations take time. Some people are impatient. Patience is a virtue. Some amateur house buyers often can’t bare the hours waiting for a response from the vendor and out negotiate themselves before they even get a yes or no. Be patient.

Exercising Deadlines
Deadlines can be used for leverage eg “Gordon must announce he’s standing down by 6pm (in time for the evening news) otherwise we do a deal with The Conservatives”, imposed deadlines can force the other parties hand.

Give Less, Win More
This is a basic tenet of negotiation. Invariably you have to let something give, that is the nature of the beast, how much you give depends on what your bottom line is ie the most you are prepared to concede. The less you concede the more you have over and above your bottom line.

Face
If the other party make’s a concession, allow them the grace to save face publicly and spin their concession in the way that best suits them. It does nobody any good to embarrass your negotiating partner.

When You Get Agreement, Shut The Hell Up
Under stress some people yammer on and unpick the agreement they’ve achieved, this is commonly known as putting your ‘foot in mouth’. You could say something that you regret. Shut up, they’ve agreed. You’ve got what you want. Zip it!

Of course, the best deal is when both parties feel that they can walk away from a deal happy that the agreement was fair. If you’ve ever bought an Egyptian Rug and haggled the price to something you think is ridiculously low, as you walk down the street with the rug rolled-up on your shoulder with a grin on your face, listen carefully. You will hear the cackling salesman, turn around and you will see him rubbing his hands together with glee.

Derek Sivers recently gave a talk at the SxSW music conference called Successful SxSW: the Tao of the Conference. He fielded the question to his contacts ‘what advice would you give people attending’ and asked people to submit short videos with their advice and presented 20 of these at the conference. In all there were 60 videos submitted which he presents on his site.

Whilst a Tao is often referred to as ‘the nameless’, because neither it nor its principles can ever be adequately expressed in words. The Tao that Derek is pointing to is woven amongst the useful networking tips and strategies.

Instead of seeing people as contacts and leads that you want to exploit you should see people as the treasure; each person you meet will literally change your life, even a small change of course now can take your life in a whole new direction.

I ‘won’ a chance to strand  on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square, London for 1 hour from 3am on Monday 12 October as part of Antony Gormley’s One & Other.

On 12 October in 1797 a famous Mackem nailed the Union Flag to the broken mast of the HMS Venerable. At the time Britain was at war with France, Holland and Spain. 212 years ago British and Dutch navies met in battle off the coast of Norway, near Camperdown, close to Bergen.

During the fierce fighting, HMS Venerable was badly damaged and the main mast was broken. Jack Crawford climbed the broken mast and nailed the flag to it, whilst under heavy fire. The Union Flag was the command flag of Admiral of the Fleet. In a time without electronic communication systems this flag was a very important identifier, and a proud symbol of British power. The loss of the flag could be a great blow to morale and could affect a battle. The phrases to “nail your colours to the mast” and “show your true colours” refer back to the original use and meaning of these flags.

After the battle there was a victory procession in London. Jack’s action was said to have helped win the battle. In 1890 a bronze statue commemorating Jacks deed was erected in Mowbray Park, Sunderland and unveiled by the Earl of Camperdown, the grandson of Admiral Duncan.

I applied to be involved in Gormley’s latest art attack as I thought it would be a good excuse to stand on the plinth and see things in the square from a new perspective. Its a silly thing to do and I love a bit of nonsense now and again. Since being selected the One & Other team have asked me what am I going to do on the plinth? Like I am supposed to attempt some sort of performance for the Sky Arts Endemolesque reality show.

Friends have suggested things, which in there own right would be quite fun to do anywhere – a Punch and Judy show, Nude Karaoke or something else to get a reaction.

Plinths in Trafalgar Square are reserved for monuments of monarchs or military heroes. Places where dead heroes disappear in to the landscape of myth, legend and bird shit. People like Jack Crawford.

So i’m nailing my colours to the mast: I’ve decided to boycott my slot at One & Other. The fourth plinth should not be hi-jacked. It denigrates the value of the real plinthers.

Real ‘plinthers’ make their actions on the ground (or in the air) and the lone and level sands stretch far away.

As the plane levels off at 7000 feet it feels like we’re slowing down. They open the transparent roller door and a guy in a blue suit turns his head to the right, looks at me but through me then he’s gone. If you blink you missed him. The girl with the purple malformed helmet for the built-in camera holds the bar above her head and peers out for a few seconds. The whiteness and windy exterior silhouettes her as she looks down and leans forward slightly, is she jumping after him? No. She pulls the shutter closed, my ears equalize and I can hear more.

“How was he?” My instructor yells.
She shakes her head.
“He spun out of control”, she smiles. I sense my instructor shake his head knowingly. She sits down.

I ask a couple of questions above the rumble. Everyone is nervous but acting cool. I hold my hand up in front of my face – it’s shaking. I breath deeply, aware of the physical sensations and press my other hand against the shaking palm. Looking round I see my instructor has his eyes closed meditating on his fate. I can sense his breathing is shallow and more rapid than mine. We are all bunched together sitting between the other mans thighs. The plane climbs higher above the clouds and the green squares of land fade behind them. Snaking in spirals. The flying dragon is waiting for us to ride it down.

Plane slows again. Things are in motion. There is not even time to think forwards or backwards. ‘Now’ is all there is. My heart thumping, drawing atttention to itself. I remind it that this is what it desires. Trepidation is not fear, just not knowing. I literally have to sit on the instructors lap. and he buckles us together. My flying cap is fixed on. Minor details, it is too tight. He notices and asks me then adjusts it. Details. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”, yes. “Okay, we’ll make your goggles a little tighter than normal.”

He shuffles forward. Others are also shuffling towards the open door and instantly vaporizing in to the whiteness. We are at the door, its quick. Good. Arms crossed, hands on shoulders. Knees back. Feet back more. Look left. Smile for the camera. Flash. The moment. The moment.

The moment. Cold thin air ploughs through my face. My arms are crossed, hands on my shoulders. Legs arching back like the videos. Two hands slap my shoulders. Look fowards forwards the camera. Smile. Its cold. There is a man 10 feet away waving at me and smiling at a hundred miles an hour – hands flapping happy dancer. The freefall is counterpointed by the clouds. We are falling through clouds. Grab two for Ella and Rosa. The plane gone.

We were always falling.

The earth appears again. Hello you. We spin counter clockwise. My instructor is gaming. He gets paid to do this! My 50 seconds at 55 meters per second is over now. The camera guy zips out of sight. The shoot is open and we slow. Fast. But we’re still falling. Only that’s under control. I feel elongated. Going over a hill and down. The rippling flapping of the £10,000 parachute comforts me. The wind snake hisses through the silk in awe. I can fill my lungs more easily, more full than ever before.

“Well done” my instructor says, “how was that”.
“Just brilliant” I say. We can talk. I equalise my ears, they crunch-pop like I used to do as a kid.

The Earth growing in my eyes. Looming like Google Earth on super-steroids. I say as much.

“I love Google Earth” he says.
“My favourite video game” I say.

He twists the shute, we arch around in a spiral, I can see straight down. The air is very cold, like the ocean. But thin. It is Air. Stupid. I look up and marvel at the technology and fleetingly, DaVinci’s genius. The view is crystal. The horizon connects all around, 360 degrees. I can see behind my head.

“How did you like that spin?” he says, rascal.
“Not really.” My organs aware of their freedom for the first time. Its falling but more.
“Again?”
“No thank you”, I say.

I can see other people falling. Small.
“Where’s our guy?” the camera man.
“Down there”.
I look down. Maybe 2000 feet, racing ahead.
“He’ll be on the ground to film us landing”, he says.

Up higher we rehearse the landing. As you do. Knees up, palms behind calfs. “Good”.

The air is very cold still but not as difficult to take Oxygen from. My lungs and face and spaces in my head fill like never before. Inflating with effort, they yearn for more oxygen. No worries. I’m enjoying this moment. Everything else is not there. My mind is only filling with the total moment. A field of microscopic cows. The green patchwork quilt growing. I wave. My instructor is manouvering us left and right. More spins.

“Where are we aiming for?” I say.
“See that patch of lightened grass over there?”. A secret message is scorched in to the earth with weed killer for us by some other rapscallion.

“How high are we now?”
“About 600 feet.” Its nearly over but it is enough.

Knees up. All procedure now. Danger time but i’m safe.
Down down down.
Gently.
“Okay, put your feet down Dan”.
Terra Firma.
I take my weight fully, its over.

Everything has changed.

Or is it just me.

photo credit: Afroswede

When I was 4 years old I used to tie a pink towel around my neck like a cape, put the Superman theme tune LP on my Dad’s dusty old record player and fling myself off the top bunk-bed in my bedroom just at the moment John Williams’ orchestra spoke the word ‘Superman’ with their instruments. For a few moments I was flying and it felt incredible then I would crash down and twist an ankle, or bump my head or knock the wind out of my chest with a thud. Once my knee somehow struck my chin and I bit my lip causing it to bleed. Always making that record skip. I’d hurt for a a minute or two then climb back up to that top bunk and jump again. And again. Eventually I perfected my landing but for some reason could never work out a way to stay in the air.

This coming Monday I plan to jump from a much greater height, 12,000 feet or thereabouts. The idea of a parachute jump is something that used to fill me with terror possibly up to a year ago until I faced much greater fears, now the fear of jumping is replaced with excitement. I’m ready for it.

A martial artist is trained to fall. If he/she doesn’t a hit the ground totally and tries to keep off the floor taking all of the impact on one point it will hurt a lot more than it needs to. Like Tom Watson said in his cardiac resuscitating statement for this once weary entrepreneur, you have to fail if you want to succeed.

The martial artist tries by every way not to be thrown to the floor but when it happens it doesn’t hurt in the sense that it doesn’t matter. Avoiding failure when possible but fully accepting it when it happens. When you fail, you learn. Like the martial artist you shouldn’t shrink back from disaster but get back up straight away (or as soon as possible) and continue the fight. Falling seven times, and getting up eight.

I still have that Superman record and it has a deep scratch right on the landing note.

Sometimes I think words are barriers to fully enjoying stuff. As humans some of us feel the need to compartmentalise stuff, its clean and makes the confusion and complexity of reality easier to comprehend – that’s a bat, that’s a dog, it’s an apple, the peach tastes sweet. They don’t convey the experience. Things become symbols and code which eventually become meaningless shapes that when connected in a particular pattern can be decrypted via lightwaves that bounce off our retinas transforming to electrons that stimulate a chemical reaction inside our heads. Words are the magic ’spells’ that orchestrate our perception but the simplification of reality to simple shapes and sounds can prevent us from really seeing what’s out there. Some people see beyond these barriers. My mate Adam did.

By ‘limitation’ I mean that a word creates a defined barrier around something, that something starts and something stops. The label compromises the thing, if we want to truly observe ‘it’. Take the word ‘Sun’. The accepted definition is of that big hot yellow ball in the sky that spits out light and heat. But where does the sun start and where does it stop? Is it at the edge of the fire? the edge of the the heat? the edge of the light? If its the light then there is no boundary – this definition is too huge to fully comprehend but I think its the right one. We are inside the sun right now.

Where do people stop? Is it where their body exists in space? Do we occupy finite space or is the edge of us where the light that reflects off our physical form stops? I think we are endless. The ideas we impart, the noises we make, the impressions we make on cmos chips that are converted to binary strings embedded on to magnetic discs, the memories that we conspire in creating, the genetic code in our offspring and the love we create and share.

Adam Theokritoff, a true friend of mine died suddenly at the weekend and I am deeply sad for myself, his family and everyone who loved him that we will not be able to conspire in creating beautiful new memories with him – there were so many left to be created. There is a part of me that feels hollow but I choose to fill it with the joy that I got from being in his radiant bold generous fearless hysterically funny and inspiring company.

The characteristics that impress us of people we admire and love imprint on us and are woven in to our own patterns of behaviour thinking and character. The things he touched, created, and crafted impeccably, the memories created, the battles fought, and the love he generously shared are all things that radiated from Adam – those things still exist. He had an indelible character and made an impression on everyone that knew him.

People that think that the light goes out choose to live in the shade. Love is as endless as the light of the sun burning through space in to infinity.

Every evening they swim to the top right corner of their tank awaiting a few flakes of fish food and without fail we provide them. Twinkles has hardly grown since we bought her home from the local ‘Pets at Home’ depot, she swims about back and forth avoiding Rory and looks forward to the evenings and the flakes. Rory forages, sucks the cluches of food that have escaped the filter and spits them back out again. He swims at the gush of water sprayed out of the filter but every evening he is there at the top of the tank awaiting the delivery of tidbits. He’s a fat fish.

When you get your payslip this month take a moment to think about what is going on outside of your fish-tank.

I don't have thousands of favourites on Flickr. My conditions for starring pictures is not that I simply 'like it'. The images have to inspire me, they have to be good enough that I would spend money to see them.

I don't do this
This particular image I found so powerful and inspiring that I didn't just want it in my favourites, I wanted it on the wall in my home.

The bold brushstrokes look like they were created with the passion and energy of a samurai, spontaneous, confident, potent. Bam bam bam. I love it, it's inspiring. So I bought it from fellow flickr'er Snerdinski, a versatile artist from Boston. I promised him that I'd send him a picture of it framed but I think it deserves another outing on Flickr to be appreciated again. So here it is.

*sorry for the delay John, I've been a little out of sorts for a couple of months and the frame sat in the shop for far too long before I had the energy to bring it home to put on the wall.

But of course there is a serious message behind this post. You can make any noise you want. You can achieve anything you want, the only person standing in your way is you.

This is the view I saw as I opened my back door yesterday evening. Awesome. In the old fashioned sense of the word is all around us every moment of every day. You just need to open your eyes. We take it for granted but the occasional smack round the face with a big slice of awe keeps the door ajar.

Only in quiet waters things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world.
Hans Margolius

They are the bestest of friends and I am their dad!

Rosa is 3!

We had a little party for her at the weekend. The theme was Fairies and Pirates. We assumed she was going to be a fairy. On the day she decided she was going to be dressed as a Pirate for the first 30 minutes then changed in to a fairy followed by a further 3 more outfit changes that Ella helped her with.

I keep telling the girls that I just can’t remember what these little blue flowers are called, so they keep bringing them to me…

Rosa’s turn.

See Ella here.

My collaboration with Quentin Blake(’s book entitled Drawing for the Artisically Undiscovered!)

Parkinson’s Law states that “work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.” I have a new understanding to this belief (let’s call it Morelle’s Interpretation) simply goes “stuff expands as much as it can”.

I discovered this when confronted my the shambolic state of my garden shed. Overflowing with tools, pots, children’s toys…stuff. It was unworkable, unsightly, unmanageable and irritating. The shed sits to the side of the house not doing very much but if you ever wanted a light bulb, screwdriver or lawn mower you’d have to clamber over half filled paint pots, bang your knee on the edge of a rusty old bar-b-que and probably hit your head on a mop bucket daringly hanging from a nail. Its just something small like a screw driver, did it require a big tidy up? The mess in the shed was an irritation. Small things make a big difference.

Our loft was creaking with more stuff. Old schoolbooks, baby toys we won’t be needing again. Remnants of fabric. Records that haven’t been played for 5 years (I sold my turntables 2 years ago!) and more, and more and more….stuff accumulated from 30 years of my life and inherited from my own parents loft.

Just a few bits and bobs from our loft

Our loft was full because that’s how much space we had to fill. A friend recently said to me ‘if it goes in the loft, it means you don’t need it’ I had to pause and think. Its true, if you don’t use it you don’t need it. Someone else can use it. The only value would be sentimental. Mental attachment to inanimate objects.

To the lounge. Probably over 700 compact discs gathering dust, unplayed. We use iTunes. Even my 6 year old Ella knows how to search for music using iTunes. We don’t need the CD’s and the space they take up unbalanced the room in a way we never realised until they were gone. What were they on display anyway?

The dining room. We had a nice old upright piano that our neighbours gave us for ‘free’ when they moved. It was good to begin with, we got some value from it but the cost was a low level amount of irritation – the piano had to accommodate the only space our bookcase the bookcase was meant to be. Any sound noise including traffic sounds would resonate and that monster was brewing decades of dust inside. So the bookcase went in to my bedroom.

The book cases and some other stuff…

I think a bedroom should be a place to relax. Under the bed we had a table, an ironing board and some other unused junk. Stuff that we ‘might’ have used one day. First off, the ironing board is a work tool, I think work tools should be banished from a place of rest. Stuff that we might use is the problem. You hear yourself saying ‘I could use this one day – keep it’. Before you know it your house is crammed with junk you might use one day, if, when that day comes about you actually remember where you put it! Your head is filled with remembering you’ve got this junk some place. A bookcase along one wall. An Ottoman at the end of the bed – that I would always walk in to in the dark. Low-level irritants.

Removing hooks on the back of doors was surprisingly a major breakthrough overcoming clutter. Those little buggers attract much more that they were intended for. ‘In the wardrobe! You can’t expect me to put my dressing gown in the wardrobe!’ said my wife Susannah. Moments later she was in hysterics after realising what she had said. The hooks are gone and funnily enough the stuff has gone with them.

We moved in to our house 4 years ago with the contents from a 1 bedroomflat. Our stuff expanded to fill the space available.

The problem as I see it is that people get seduced by storage. ‘Storage Solutions’ IKEA call them. I say that storage is the problem . Remove the storage and the stuff has to dissipate to another storage receptacle. Preferably a charity shop or a dustbin.

Look at all this shit!

Throwing stuff in the dustbin gives a good sense of closure, the mind can focus on the present and future. I realised I had become the family archivist carrying a tonne of baggage and that was weighing me down.

We overcame the hoarding and scarcity mindsets we’ve inherited from our parents (who lived through rationing) we became like bulldozers. Piano gone, skip filled, 700 CD’s given to Barnardo’s disc drive, friends with children or expecting, or neighbours who are grandparents gratefully accepted our stuff – to them its gold. To us, its just stuff. They wanted to give us other stuff in reciprocation but we politely refused.

I tried this new philosophy of removing the storage on the micro level of my desk. I got rid of the pen tubs and shelving from my desk and the stuff had to find somewhere else to live. Like Parkinson’s Law states I had to distil what was essential and clear away all the useless pap. Ultimately I intend to get rid of my desk and just have a comfortable chair.

Its the small irritants that cause the greatest aggravation, drip drip, like Chinese water torture until its unbearable. Now there is a sense of calmness in our house which is very unusual especially with two young children.

Of course, all our bins are filled to the brim, they always are. Why don’t you check your pockets now? Are they filled with stuff? Will you really use all that stuff today?

Why not spend a couple of days getting rid of your mosquitoes? We shape the world around us, from then on it shapes us.

]]> http://www.danmorelle.com/2008/04/storage-the-problem-not-the-solution/feed/ 0 http://www.danmorelle.com/2008/04/people-of-flickr-introducing-interviewr/ http://www.danmorelle.com/2008/04/people-of-flickr-introducing-interviewr/#comments Tue, 29 Apr 2008 17:34:15 +0000 Dan Morelle http://www.danmorelle.com/blog/?p=34

Flickr is a thriving hub of creativity and inspiration. With this new site I intend to explore flickr and have conversations with some of the brains behind the pictures.

The idea is to introduce a spirit of endlessnessism to the site and get each interviewee to interview their favourite contacts so a big tree of conversations opens up.

Drew Anderson is my first victim. Read the interview here: http://www.interviewr.net/

Here is a photo of my father from way back when. It was taken at the 2 I’s Club on Old Compton Street, Soho in London.

Last week I travelled to London to attend the London Book Fair with the main intention of seeing my friend Drew Anderson’s sketchbook that he’s been laboring over for almost a year. I’ve been watching Drew fill the book on the Buy My Sketchbook website where I’ve also been known to show a few pages off.

Moleskine’s celebrity endorsements are from the greats: Van Gogh, Chatwin, Hemingway, Matisse and Céline all apparently used the books at some time in their life. The attraction to the Moleskine is not that it is the new cool (though it very much is) but that it is well crafted and at the right alchemical proportions for people to catch their creative spirit within.

If you search the internet you will see thousands of artists catching their ideas and creations, scanning and photographing and sharing them with their clustered groups of other users for commentry, feedback, praise, promotion and a little friendly competition.

With their popular exhibit at the London Book Fair Moleskine quite accidently stumbled on a new way of opening up this new form to the masses, each book tethered by a thin wire of indestructible adamantium thread to a central spire and an etched chrome name tag adorned the books so the creator could be identified. Visitors had to wear white cloth gloves to handle the books otherwise a guard from the stand would hit you with 9000 volt a cattle prod.

I loitered around the exhibit for almost an hour pouring over the books and taking the odd photo of a favourite page. Like the effect of a street hawkers mate, what started as a quiet stall magnetised almost 15 people who all relished the awesome work on display.

In addition the the multitude of flickr groups and satellite websites I can see a new path to expose these wonderous books off in full-on human dpi to the world. Moleskine themselves are shining the light in the direction we need to take.