The alpha to omega of Greekification

I have a sniff of interest in my next book. Early days yet, certainly far too early to break out the champers, but interesting enough to mention.

'The alpha to omega of Greekification' was written under the fairly uninspired working title of 'A Greek Dairy'. Indeed, the folder it resides in on my desktop is still called that. However, it has metamorphosed from the rather sad little autobiogrpahical exercise it began life at, way back in 1995. My God, over ten years ago...

It is time to publish this too, and to move on.

I look forward to opening the folder called 'Year of the Monkey' and actually writing again. The fresh page, a fresh start, worlds to discover.

Watch this space.

Down Under

On a less serious note, we're off Down Under for Christmas. Job hunting and visiting friends. By January 10, we should know where our little family is going to spend the next four or five years. Quite exciting, that.

Christmas platter

I seem to have become sidetracked into the cruelty of the Christmas feast.

I have been a vegetarian longer than not, preferring though to siply say 'I don't eat meat' than to preach 'the cause'. Maybe I'm wrong, and I ought ot be more overtly crusading about it.

I'm even considering going vegan, thoguh quite how I could live without cheese is beyond me.

I know I shall never eat meat or fish again. Perhaps it is time to commit and go all the way....

Christmas is coming...still...

Christmas is coming,
The geese are getting fat...

Turkeys in their natural state
Turkeys have a zest for living and, treated with respect, they become very friendly. Turkeys have large, dark, almond-shaped eyes and sensitive fine-boned faces. Wild turkeys live in North and Central America. They are striking and handsome, graceful and intelligent. They roost in trees and roam in woodlands, eating vegetation and insects. They live in harems - the mothers being very protective of their young. An adult bird can fly up to 50mph.

Conditions in turkey farms
There are two main systems of turkey rearing:
a. Windowless units. The most common system where as many as 25,000 turkeys are kept in one shed. The birds are crowded together like broiler chickens, on a litter floor. Many develop ulcerated feet and painful burns on their legs and breasts as they spend their short lives standing on litter which often becomes wet, dirty and produces ammonia. Lighting is dim to discourage aggression.
b. Pole barns. These allow daylight and ventilation but conditions are still grossly overcrowded. Stress causes fighting and birds attack each others eyes and toes.

Slaughter age
Turkeys would live up to 10 years in the wild. Farmed turkeys are usually slaughtered between the ages of 12 and 26 weeks, although according to DEFRA some are as young as eight weeks.

Mortality rate
6%- 15% of turkeys die in sheds each year. Many die because they never learn to reach the food and water points (‘starve-outs’). Others die from disease or as a result of growing too quickly.

Aggression
Turkeys peck at each others feathers, toes and eyes when overcrowded. Sometimes their eyeballs are destroyed by the pecking. Cannibalism can be common in intensive farms. Turkeys are often kept in near darkness to discourage cannibalism. In the wild, turkeys would not be aggressive but on factory farms birds are driven to aggression by the conditions in which they are kept.

Mutilation
Debeaking is considered essential to many turkey rearers. 10% of all turkeys are debeaked (DEFRA, Oct 2001) When turkeys are only a few days old, their beaks are partially amputated, a section of the upper beak being cut off with a red-hot blade or with clippers. Potential breeding stock are debeaked again at around 16 weeks, and sometimes at a later stage too. Beak trimming is painful and can result in permanent pain. Research at the AFRC Institute of Animal Physiology and Genetics Research, Edinburgh, indicates that debeaking results in chronic pain similar to ‘phantom limb pain’ in human amputees. Birds have been observed, over a 56 week period, to show signs of behaviour associated with long-term chronic pain and depression, following partial beak amputation.
(“Behavioral Evidence for Persistent Pain Following Partial Beak Amputation in Chickens” - Michael Gentle et al, Applied Animal Behaviour Science, 27 (1990) 149-157).

Toe removal is also performed on male breeding birds which can result in open wounds, blood loss and pain.

Desnooding is practiced to minimalise cannibalism. This is where the long fleshy appendage extending from the front of a turkey’s head over its upper back is removed with an instrument or pulled off.

When farmers want to prevent turkeys from flying, dewinging is carried out where the flight feathers of one wing may be clipped.

Slaughter
22 million turkeys are killed each year in licensed plants with an estimated 10 million being killed at Christmas (based on consumption figures, DEFRA, 23/10/2001).
Including small-scale enterprises which slaughter on premises, 35 million turkeys are killed in the UK every year. (Meat Hygiene Service, 1998)

According to the Meat Hygiene Service (MHS), there are 50 slaughterhouses licensed to kill turkeys. 34 out of 50 plants stunning turkeys use the electric waterbath. Others use gas stunning and very low throughput premises tend to use an electric hand-held stunner.

UK slaughter legislation states that birds may be killed by decapitation or dislocation of the neck. These procedures do not require a license provided that they are carried out on premises forming part of an agricultural holding on which the bird was reared.

Decapitation is not widely practiced but neck dislocation is the most widely used method of slaughter on small-scale enterprises. Scientists Gregory and Wotton expressed concern about the effectiveness of neck dislocation in poultry. They tried crushing and stretching the necks of poultry (method 2 works in a similar manner to manual neck dislocation) and concluded that, “neither method consistently produced concussion and it is uncertain whether they cause instantaneous unconsciousness.”
(N. G. Gregory, S. B. Wotton, 1990. Comparison of neck dislocation and percussion of the head on visual evoked responses in the chicken’s brain. The Veterinary Record 126, 570-572).

Researcher Roger McCamley says that, “There is certainly a potential for welfare problems to arise when small scale seasonal producers kill large birds by neck dislocation. Usually, no training will have been sought or received and because of the small number and infrequency of slaughtering, little expertise in slaughter will be obtained.”
R. McCamley, 1992. The welfare aspects of poultry slaughter on farms. The Meat Hygienist, December edition, 5-11.

If turkeys are not killed on the farm at which they are reared, they are transported live to a processing plant. Turkeys are caught from the rearing sheds and stuffed into crates for transportation to the slaughterhouse. Rough handling often causes severe bruising and injury. At the slaughterhouse the birds are hung upside down with their feet in shackles for up to six minutes before they are stunned (DEFRA, 2001). Birds are in great distress at this time, especially those with diseased hip joints or legs.

The shackled turkeys move to an electrically-charged water bath through which their heads and necks pass. The electric shock is meant to stun the birds. Turkeys tend to arch their necks at slaughter and may not be stunned before they reach the neck cutter. Each year, conservative estimates suggest that around 30-40,000 will enter the scalding tank alive. Around 43% of birds will receive painful electric shocks before being stunned because their wings touch the electrically-charged waterbath.

From http://www.viva.org.uk/campaigns/turkeys/index.htm

Enjoy your Christmas dinner.

Christmas is coming...

Christmas is a little early this year...

Bookshops

Fahasa, the state-owned bookshop chain here in Vietnam, has agreed in principal to stock 50 copies of my book for a 3 month period on a sale or return basis.

Whilst I'd prefer them to buy outright, I mustn't grumble. It's a definite move in the right direction.

Sales

I have actually sold 34 copies of my book! I'm fairly impressed. Surely my mum can't have bought that many?

Not yet retirement potential, but one lives in hope...

Hurrah

My books have arrived in Vietnam. All is well with the world. It took a month, so I hope that some local customs official at least enjoyed the read. All set now to set up signings and dedications and then like. And I have a copy to donate to my school library...

Where is 'Is'?

'Is' has materialised as a very real physical book. But not here in Vietnam, back in the UK. So I still have yet to hold one and for it to seem real. We have been putting off a celebration of my heady voyage into authorship, waiting for the opening of the first book. I have actually sold and dispatched copies in the UK, in France and in Holland; it's very weird and even more frustrating.

It is now also an e-book, which I sell from my website as well as its being listed on a number of e-book sites. I listed it myself on eBay, which was a total washout. I'm considering the eBay route for the actual book, maybe along with some second-hand books to drum up interest and pick up on key word searches. At times, though, I do find myself asking, "Can I be bothered?" Frankly, I'd rather be writing...

www.scottlangston.org

George on vegetarianism...

We pray on Sundays that we may have light

To guide our footsteps on the path we tread

We are sick of war, we don’t want to fight

And yet we gorge ourselves upon the dead.

George Bernard Shaw

I'm playing with the idea of making the central character of my next book something of a philosophical Vegetarian. Currently though, she's French..so that's not going to work. I'll weave it in somehow...

ebook

The ebook has arrived... Not sure how I feel about ebooks, but I am assured that the market is there. We'll see.

I'm not convinced that the mere fact of reading a book is equal to the experience of holding it, turning the pages, owning it...Perhaps I'm wrong and the orders will fly in?

Quote time again...

"The time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look on the murder of men."

Leonardo da Vinci, artist and scientist

Trick or treat?

Halloween. Not really something I've been bothered about especially. It's more of an American thing than a British thing, though I hearit's picking up 'back home' too. Last night we took our kids to a local restaurant, only for our daughter to be accosted by kids dressed as skeletons and scary old men. And she's three.

Nightmares all night. Thanks.

Lack of sleep makes me grumpy.

Where is 'is'?

I arranged for ten copies of "IS" to be sent to me here in Vietnam by the publisher, Adlibbed Ltd. Three weeks' later, still no sign of them. Frustrating isn't the word. The book is selling: I have orders to fill in the UK and France, as well as copies sold here in Vietnam - and yet I have yet to hold a physical copy in my hands.

I have heard (unsubstantiated) reports of books ordered online not making it through Vietnamese customs and ending up
(a) on sale in Fahasa (the State-owned foreign language bookshop in Vietnam) and
(b) photocopied and for sale in the backpacker district.

It would be incredibly annoying to discover that I couldn't get my book through customs!!!

Learning the lingo...

Vietnamese is an easy language. Just ask any Vietnamese, and that's what they’ll tell you. And they honestly believe it. Perhaps, somewhat naively yet endearingly, they figure that as they speak it and didn't find the process particularly difficult, then foreigners (often erroneously regarded as especially clever by virtue of being, well, foreigners) ought to find it a breeze.

And on paper, at first glance, Vietnamese does look easy. There's a Latin alphabet, thanks to a Portuguese crusading zealot, who worked out that the best way to convert the ‘savages’ to Christianity was to do away with the Chinese-based script and invent a recognisable system for writing the language. Hence modern Vietnamese was born. Courtesy of a benevolent church…hmm. That’s another article altogether.

In Vietnamese, there are no agreements of gender, there being no gender. There is no plural form, plural being implied through context or use of number words. Verbs have no conjugation, one form suits all purposes. (That’s a Godsend after the hours I spent pouring over tables of Greek verbs.) Past tense is rendered by the use of one word (da) and future by the use of another (se). Sound simple?

The problem arises when you try to say a word. There it is, on paper, formed with only four letters. How hard can it be to say? Yet when you confidently launch into your word, you are greeted with blank expressions. You try again. Nothing. Okay, at this point you expect a little help from your interlocutor. Nothing doing. Frustration mounts. If you are lucky you can get your Vietnamese counterpart to say the word for you. You listen hard. You repeat what you heard. Nope. He still doesn’t recognise the word you’re trying to use. He’s not being obtuse, although it’s easy to think so. There is a very real reason for the confusion, and the problem lies with us.

Vietnamese is a tonal language. That is to say, the tone of a word changes its meaning. Aha, you say. Just like in English. We use tone to alter meaning, to imply disbelief, to question, to invoke sarcasm, to confirm, to preach, to antagonise, to indicate boredom – the list is endless.

NO. Not like in English. In Vietnamese, the tone changes the meaning of the word. Completely. Like from ‘baby rice seedling’ to ‘but’ to ‘mother’. Same word, very slight difference in the tone of the word, equals whole new word. There are six different tones in Vietnamese. One descending regularly, one descending suddenly, one flat, one rising steadily (as in asking a question in English – happy?) and two both falling and then rising. Often these differences are all but imperceptible to the uninitiated Western ear; in fact, to this Western ear, they are still largely imperceptible. Compound this with an obvious corollary: you cannot use tone to express feelings or questions. If you raise the tone questioningly, you completely alter the meaning of the word you just used and you get, yes, a blank stare. It should also be noted, though, that most Vietnamese, seeing a foreigner, will rarely assume that you are attempting Vietnamese. They therefore try to decode any English or French sounds they might know from the words you utter. Or they smile politely, and wait for you to go away.

The Vietnamese are not being difficult when they don’t understand you – the language just doesn’t lend itself to the syntax guess-work and context clues available in English. If you louse up the tones, you are speaking Gobbledygook.

Vietnamese is also a language in which it is relatively easy to give offence. You might think you’ve been offended by the shouting of ‘You!’ in the street as vendors vie for your attention, but actually ‘You!’ is a direct translation of a polite form of address in Vietnamese. The personal pronoun is an area of grave importance in Vietnamese. You address others and refer to yourself differently depending upon to whom you are talking, their gender and your relative ages. Other issues including respect for family members and rank in officialdom also play a role. I have been ‘em’, ‘anh’, ‘ban’ and ‘ong’ as far as I am aware – quite possibly other terms have applied. And getting it wrong can give immense offence.

Not that I wish to discourage you. I have studied the language, given it a go, as they say. When I first arrived here, I enlisted in a University course, three times per week, two hours each session. A demanding schedule. I stuck it out for six months. Then I gave up from sheer frustration and exhaustion. Feeling guilty after two years, I arranged private lessons at home for a while – again throwing in the towel after six months. I now get by, barely. However, the little I have picked up has opened doors and revealed another country, beyond the clamour for the tourist dollar. The effort you make now will reap rewards, that much is certain. Ever friendly and obliging, it is rare that attempts at the language do not evoke smiles and good-natured laughter from the Vietnamese. And offers to help you in what is, after all, an easy language.

I do know a fair number of foreigners who speak the language well – or, at least, well enough. There is a secret to it. A sure-fire route to success in Vietnamese as in any foreign language. It takes determination, and has pit-falls of its own. And it’s not for everyone. What do they have in common, all of the Vietnamese-speaking foreigners I know? A Vietnamese partner. A romantic interest. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. Maybe it’s an option for you? For my part, I don’t think my wife would approve, so for now I’ll stick to my taxi directions and daily pleasantries…

Time for a quote...

If we cut up beasts simply because they cannot prevent us and because we are backing our own side in the struggle for existence, it is only logical to cut up imbeciles, criminals, enemies or capitalists for the same reasons.

C.S. Lewis

Where am I going?

Somewhere else. My wife and I are both Librans, which doesn't make for firm and decisive decision-making in our home. But we have decided that we are moving on. Our 6th year in Vietnam will be our last.

We are looking at Oman, Qatar, Tunisia, Morocco, Malaysia and Thailand as possible next-stops on this roller-coaster ride of ours. Which probably means we’ll end up in Mongolia or China.

This is both exciting and scary. It means, amongst other things, that I need to finish ‘The Year of the Monkey’ while I’m still here in Vietnam. So far I’ve written a novel set in Greece and one set England. Maybe the next will be set in northern Africa?

We are looking at Oman, Qatar, Tunisia, Marrocco, Malaysia and Thailand as possible next-stops on this roller-coaster ride of ours.

Where am I from?

Where am I from? What do you want you hear? Do you want to know where I was born? Or where I grew up? Or where I consider home to be? Or what I look like? Or what is says on my passport? Or what it said on my parents’ passports? Or where they were born?

I ask kids this question and there is a short delay while they look me up and down and try to work out what it is I want to hear. It’s no longer a simple question. In this community, living and growing up in the same house no longer happens. Nor does living and growing up in the same town, country or even continent. These kids are on the move.

One five-year old replied, parrot fashion with a bored ‘here-we-go-again’ look on his face, ‘I was born in Thailand but I live in Vietnam. My brother was born in England, but he lives here too. My mummy is American and my daddy is English. I’m English too, but I’ve never been there.’

So where am I from? Originally – the word I always use now – I’m from Britain. Born in the West Midlands but raised in Cornwall and educated in the North. I’ve lived ‘abroad’ (from the UK that is, which is probably already ‘abroad’ for you as you read this) for the last nine years and plan to continue doing so. My wife and daughter are both French, but my daughter hasn’t been there yet. Where am I from? From the middle-classes, from white-male culture, from a public (that means private) school, from a broken home.

You decide.

I contact...

Eye-contact.

Inviting.

Shockingly direct.

Forbidden fruit.

Where a nervous smile would do

A look held too long, too frank

Too honest,

Penetrating my soul.

A glance around,

Still unobserved.

Head turning,

Drawn irresistibly back

To the invitation.

Eyes burning into me,

Pleading now,

No longer with a smile

No longer mischievous

But needy, demanding.

The look held

Momentarily

Until reason wins through

Calculating the odds

And nervous smile replaces

Confident gaze.

I won’t do this now.

Eye-contact broken.

School Reports

I came across a list of Report comments made apparently in real reports, by real (if facetious and over-worked) teachers. Some are excellent.

-Since our last conference, X has reached rock bottom, yet has continued to dig.

-This student ought not to be allowed to breed.

-Unfortunately, X has delusions of adequacy.

-He certainly takes along time to make his pointless.

-Having set low personal standards, he consistently fails to meet them.

-Works well under constant supervision if cornered like a rat in a trap.

But, tied first place for my absolute favourite:

‘X has a photographic memory, but the lens cap appears to be glued on’

and

‘He doesn’t have ulcers, but he’s a carrier’.

It reminded me of some the high (low?) points of my own teaching experiences. I recall the bother I got myself into by telling a mother laughingly that her son wouldn’t be the next Lynford Christie. She got very uppity about it, throwing words like ‘unprofessional’ around in the Principal’s hearing. Her son didn’t have the coordination necessary to become a golf caddy on the Crazy Golf course at Butlin’s (no offence if you’re reading this, and that is your chosen profession. I’m sure it can be very rewarding, and probably requires far more in the way of physical acumen than I am aware). You’re not allowed to be honest though, particularly in the private sector, where parents get referred to as ‘customers’ and the curriculum as the ‘product’. Perhaps I’d better stop there, as I feel a rant coming on.

Spam

I am somewhat at a loss to understand spam.

I used to receive enormous amounts of mail regarding penis enlargement and erectile disfunction. Then there was a spate of 'not-to-be-missed investment opportunities' and now we have moved on to various cures for obesity. My question is a simple one - does anyone actually open these mails? Who are 'they' targetting, and is it seriously worth their while?

The one or two which I have seen in the preview pane are clearly computer-generated translations or chimpanzee-at-a-typewriter productions. Yes, I know, statistically and probability-wise, one of these monkeys will eventually write the complete works of Shakespeare, but in the meantime, could I possibly be spared their efforts?

I guess a more serious question would be directed to those technically more savvy than myself: how can I avoid using the 'mailto:' code which these robots clearly love so much and yet still have functioning email/contact me links on my website?

Answers here please!

www.scottlangston.org

Smile!

Such an innocent thing, a smile. So why the fuss? Well, it's not really a fuss, but it is something worth mentioning. For Europeans, a smile is fairly self-explanatory. We smile when happy, when moved and sometimes in sympathy. Not terribly complicated, though some may argue that I'm simplifying. Bear with me. (Call it artistic license.) There are nuances. In my experience the French smile is perhaps more seductive, or coquettish, whilst the Greek smile is either annoyingly superior or one of the most genuine expressions of emotion possible. Moving farther a field, I'd be compelled to say, and I apologise profusely in advance, that the American smile has been robbed of any sincerity it may once have had by the rampant commercialism with which it is inextricably bound. Massive generalisation? Yes, of course. (I have actually met some very sincere Americans whose smile is also sincere - the exceptions which prove the rule?)When you first visit Vietnam, you will notice that the Vietnamese smile - an extraordinary amount of the time. It is virtually a trademark of the country. Whilst it is universal, however, it is perhaps not universally understood. There is something specific, something incredibly difficult to pinpoint, about the Vietnamese smile. And if you wade into a conversation with Western assumptions about what a smile means, then you're in for a big surprise. (I'm not claiming to be an expert here, by the way - these are just my own observations, rules I have devised as a result of my own blunderings.)

With a 'simple' smile, the Vietnamese can show happiness, contentment, agreement, acceptance, anticipation, desire, and tolerance. The same smile, however, can show irritation, lack of comprehension, disagreement, discomfort, embarrassment, confusion, anger and the feeling of having been insulted. When you add to the equation the lack of English (theirs) and the lack of Vietnamese (yours) and subsequent over-reliance on body language, confusion abounds. A broad smile accompanied by a vague 'yes' could be saying, 'I have no idea what you want,' or 'Yes, I understand,' or 'Yes, I'm listening', or indeed, 'I can't help you and I'm not interested anyway - I'm smiling at you to be polite and I hope you'll go away soon'.

(It's worth also noting that the Vietnamese will rarely admit that they have not understood you: this is often associated with a loss of face. They will more likely keep nodding, smiling and saying 'yes' in the hope that (a) they understand something soon, or that (b) you give up and go away.)

Examples abound. If discovered in a little white lie, one of the many told for face-saving purposes, a Vietnamese will smile at you. You may anticipate downcast eyes, embarrassed silence or even a mumbled apology. Forget it. You are not dealing with like cultures here – not even close. The smile is the Vietnamese version of embarrassment. You have to unlearn your preconceived responses. This applies particularly to the workplace. From chastising underlings who have failed to perform to your expectations to receiving horrifically unrealistic work schedules and deadlines from superiors, you will have to contend with what appears to be - at face value – a wholly inappropriate smile.

It is generally true to say that it is not acceptable to display anger in Vietnam. It shows a loss of face and is embarrassing. (It happens, though, even between Vietnamese; don’t believe the guidebook which tells you otherwise!) It is helpful to know this. If you get ticked off by the bargaining, by the hassle from beggars or by the unique approach to driving in Vietnam, you may find yourself becoming short-tempered and displaying this. The Vietnamese will usually respond with a smile. IMPORTANT: This does not mean he is happy, or that he is laughing at you! It would be inappropriate to resort to physical violence at this point, irrespective of your gut reactions. What the smile actually means is that (a) he, too, is annoyed or, more likely, (b) he is embarrassed for you as you are losing face by showing that you are angry.

Similarly, nervousness is indicated by, you guessed it… a smile. Often the more nervous, the broader the smile. This is intensely irritating on the roads. Imagine the scene. You have just been cut up by an apparently suicidal young motorcyclist who is clearly blind, or deranged, or both. He does a violent wobble and manages somehow to stay upright, whilst you curse profanely. Attention, because the next part is important. He will then smile at you. He's smiling because he nervous and is effectively apologising, not because he's insane. Back home, this would result in instant fisticuffs. You are not back home. Accepting this is an art which admittedly takes a while to master.

Another possible source of confusion is that the Vietnamese rely more often on non-verbal communication than Westerners might. Where a Westerner might say, "Thank-you," the Vietnamese may well just smile. This is considered appropriate. In fact, over use of ‘thank you’ is considered a Western weakness, insincerity even. One should not expect a 'thank-you' for small services rendered; the smile again indicates thanks. If you receive a compliment, to voice your thanks can imply a lack of modesty - a smile suffices.

So, a hard and fast rule to help you overcome this confusion? I'll let you know if I find one...In the meantime, it's a question of familiarisation. After almost six years, I'm getting there. Kind of. But it's slow progress.

www.scottlangston.org

Barnes and Noble

You must excuse my harping on about it - but "IS" is now available also at Barnes and Noble.

That must count as almost famous...

A Saturday in October

It is a glorious Saturday morning. Not yet too hot, despite a postcard-blue sky. My children both woke in good spirits and we shared breakfast – mum, dad, Munchkin and Babou. A perfect start to the weekend.

And what am I doing now, barely an hour later? I am sitting in an air-conditioned classroom supervising some very bored-looking high school students as they sit a mock exam. Why am I doing this? Not sure – it must have seemed like a good idea at the time. To think – I could be at the pool with the kids, or enjoying a prolonged Highlands Coffee breakfast, or a million other things.

On the plus side, I have just collected some very professional-looking business cards advertising my novel and I’ve just posted order forms in the pigeon holes of all the teachers at school. Even a measly ten-percent take up would be great! It does seem that shipping copies of “IS” to Vietnam will be prohibitively expensive – so I need to find a willing courier…It would cost upwards of 125 Canadian dollars to post 50 copies out here – that’s going to make the book an expensive proposition. I guess people can still order directly from Amazon…

Amazon again

Amazon are having a glitch with their image links....but at least "IS" can now be bought from anywhere in the world...

Have you ordered yours?

Now available through Amazon!

"IS" is now available through Amazon.com. A snip at 9.99 (British Pounds) or $17.99.

Go on - give a struggling author a break!

Or you can buy directly from my own site if you live in the UK!

Waiting...

I am on tenterhooks, sitting here waiting for the first actual physical copies of my book to arrive. I have received orders through my website, which is great, but still don' t have the link for Amazon. Whilst my actual cut on Amazon sales will be significantly less, it's not about the profit! And it'll open up the way for orders from the US, Cananda and Australia. My own website sales will concentrate only in the UK, since hassles with postage and (especially in Vietnam) customs make it not worth my while to try to arrange from here.


I'm having this business card made up to send/give out. I wonder how much you can actually influence sales through marketing a product such as a book. This is new territory for me.
Scott

Rain, rain, go away...

Do I write often about the weather? Hmm…It’s the English in me. When you wake up in England, you ponder the sky, no matter the season. Do I need an umbrella, a raincoat, a jumper, shorts, a swimming costume, hiking boots or flip-flops? You can never be sure. And the gods will usually throw something unexpected at you. You can often leave in the morning thrice wrapped in scarf and gloves, to be sweltering in shirtsleeves my midday.

So, given my predilection for weather as a topic, no surprise that last night's Vietnamese downpour is a comment-worthy event. It started to rain last night around 9pm in the sort of torrential downpour which usually lasts an hour or so. It’s still going, volume and intensity unabated, and it’s now 7.29am. The accompanying window-frame-shaking thunder was spectacular, as I imagine the lightning would have been had I been bothered to stir myself from what passed for sleep to go and see. So it’s dark and wet and miserable, but at least still 30 degrees. I half expected to see rooftops and general flood scene this morning, but things seem to be as per…

The rainy season is due to end mid-November -ish. (It's not an exact science...)

www.scottlangston.org

Orders arriving

I have received 14 orders for the book - and they're not all from my Mum!

You can order yours here.

OK, it's not yet retirement material, but one never knows...

Deep Thoughts - A Song

Deep thoughts

Look, I’m getting older, I’m growing wise

I’m stepping out and taking risks

No need to apologise, to eulogise.

I try, yes I try

Thought I was mature

Confident, even demure.

This comes as a surprise, is all I can surmise…

Chorus:

Oh, I want to have deep thoughts

Profound and neat thoughts

Wide awake, three a.m. thoughts.

Yes I want to be replete with thoughts

Have the come and seek my thoughts

And ask me to speak my thoughts.

Yeah why can’t I have deep thoughts?

Look, I fall apart when she’s not here

My brain runs in circles

When she’s not near, what’s the big idea?

I try, yes I try

I fantasise

But I’m paralysed.

I can’t seem to find a way out of here. Ave Maria...

Chorus

Look, I’m window-watching and procrastinating

I’m doing nothing

Only waiting, life on hold, anticipating.

I try, yes I try,

But I just can’t rationalise

I can only self-despise.

I want so much more but I’m hesitating, reiterating…

Chorus impro to fade

Copyright: Scott Langston March 2005

I'd love some easy guitar chords and a melody for this. Any takers?

Mastery and Love

To recognise me, you must first know me again. Re-cognise. First, you must believe there is a God to know. Second, you have to be open to new ideas about me. Third, and this is the biggie, you need to be ready to embrace a God who embraces you, without condition.

Ask yourself every day, ‘Is this Who I Am?’. Every decision you make is not a decision about what to do, but a decision about Who You Are. The other five word magic question is, ‘What would Love do now?’

If you require a certain result to be happy, you have an addiction. If you simply desire a certain result, you have a preference. If you have no preference, you have Acceptance. And you have achieved Mastery.

Suffering has nothing to do with events, but your reactions to them. What’s happening is merely what’s happening. How you feel about it – how you choose to feel about it – is another matter. Can you simply accept what ‘Is’?

Bits pinched from Neale Donald Walsch…

There is only what there is

There is only now

There is only your life

Your happiness

Your desires

Your existence

The rest is background scenery.

Whilst it can be very nice,

Interesting even,

It’s not you.

It’s not Who You Are.

It’s Who You Were

Perhaps,

Or Who You Could Be

Maybe

But right now,

Today

Who You Are is Who You Choose To Be.

Who do you choose to be?

Heaven

Heaven. To sit, undisturbed, in front of a blank page. The infinite possibilities of this blankness, a creation waiting for life to breathed in. Time, once again, for me, for the spaces in my head, for neurons to fire where they will, synapses to have their say. I’ve been away, I’ve been ill and I’ve been working. Now I’m free of all that and can gaze happily at space, time and emptiness, mentally rolling over on the grass and kicking my legs with glee.

The Senses

I can see: my keyboard, a little grubby, I note. Dust and stuff between the keys. It needs cleaning. A hastily scribble telephone number on a scrap of white paper – belonging to? No idea. There’s a red-and-white airways envelope from Tahiti, where a friend is doing a six month residential course in air traffic control. The postcard it contained is up above the computer screen: Moorea, looking temptingly idyllic. My mouse is flashing red – AGAIN – informing me that it wants more batteries. I must get hold of a charger and rechargeables. There’s a coffee mat with a sepia illustration of Bolingey, Cornwall which was a gift from my dad last time we visited. A half-empty cylindrical case of blank CDs, a rubber (eraser, if that made you smile) a permanent marker, a diary and a wad of A4 paper make up the ensemble that is my desktop. Oh and photographs, of my daughter, my son, my wife and I.

I can feel: the pain in my back, my shoulders, my neck. Omnipresence. It is occupying more and more of me. As I concentrate, I can sense also a mild tingling in my fingertips, and of course the pressure as each key is hit. A trickle of sweat begins its journey down my back. As the fan reaches the edge of its arc, a brief respite of cool air reaches the left side of my head and body. And then there’s the pain in my back, my shoulders, my neck…

I can hear: the determined gurgling of my son downstairs as he attempts, for what might be the hundredth time this morning, to reach my guitar. The chatter in the street from the four guys squatting outside the house opposite, drinking iced coffee and playing Chinese chess. A delivery bike arrives and reloads. The strains of Bach, oddly enough, coming from somewhere way behind the house. And now a taxi, struggling to squeeze passed the bikes parked outside and resorting to his horn. Padlocks being unlocked and a metal grating opening. And someone spitting loudly. A Vivaldi Concerto as Windows Media Player accompanies my writing. The soft falling of rain, the tail end of a deluge.

I can taste: the memory of the carrot and ginger juice I made myself ten minutes ago. And a metallic dryness, probably from medication which does I know not what to me besides alleviating pain.

I can smell: hmm, my weak suit. Not much really. It raining, but I’m aware of it through the noise, not the smell. Now I think of the rain, I imagine I can smell it. Maybe.

The 'Is' and the traditional view of 'God'

I received an email asking more about the idea in my book of the 'Is'. It was from a self-confessed 'highly religious person' who was concerned that some of my ideas might be blasphemous. So here is my response:

“Frankly, I would not be happy if my wife did not passionately pursue God with all her heart. Its important to me and important to the God I serve.”

I found your email interesting, but this stuck out as I read. God, as espoused by the Christian Church, is all-powerful and all-forgiving. At the same time he (note the gender, I’ll get back to that) is vengeful and wrathful and has many requirements of his followers.

I have to ask, 'Why?' An omnipotent creator has no need of anything – he is all that there is and all that there will be. Why does he require certain behaviour from you in order for him to be happy? That implies that he is unhappy if you do not do a certain thing. Which further implies that you have control over how God feels. Which casts doubt over the all-powerful creator image.

I cannot believe in a God who requires something of me. Who threatens me, even, in order to have me conform to his wishes. If he is all-powerful and all-forgiving, why the threat of Hell and Damnation? If he is all-powerful, why does he require my service?

I’ll tell you why, or at least why I think so. The Bible was written over a very long period of time by men. Men who were, at their very best, a product of their times. Hence the gender thing. They had some wonderful thoughts, some of which were probably inspired by the Divine. That is open to all of us to connect with, to use, and offer back to. The powers that were, of the day, amounted to the Church, ruled by wealthy men with a position in society to protect and a vested interest in the status quo. When the Old Testament was put together, more was left out than was put in. Similarly with the New Testament. The Church ruled that the people were not ready for many of the writings and that some of the writings were reactionary. And the Church, being a body of men, required service from the population and loyalty from it. Censorship, then. Of God’s word. By man.

In creating, for that’s what they were doing, an image of God, the creators of the Bible fell upon images of their own society. A wrathful father, meting out punishment, often harshly, to wrongdoers. Demanding obedience to his authority. Testing loyalty and rewarding the faithful. It was normal, given their experience, that they would thus do. They couldn’t imagine a God loving unconditionally, needing nothing from them, a pure and intense love that merely existed, no matter what. And so they didn’t write about him. Except every now and then, in phrases such as ‘God is Love’, which is truer than they knew.

If God has a set of rules which he requires us to live by, for example only marrying within our belief, then he is lacking something that only we can, by our kowtowing, give him. Such a requirement stemmed from the basic human impulse to conform and not to marry outside of race at that time. The powers that were felt threatened by what they did not know, wanted to keep their races pure and dispose people against mating with those of other races. The Bible was an effective tool in that propaganda.

The Church still clings to its perceived role, despite loss of power in a political sense. Look at the arguments surrounding The Dead Sea Scrolls, for example, and you will again see a Church desperate to maintain the status quo, afraid of change and afraid of the unknown.

Times have changed though. Parents used to use the Bible to scare children into not masturbating. Can you give your faith and trust and love to a God who would torture adolescents so? The Bible has been used to witch-hunt divorced people, again offering damnation as their lot. Divorced people are some of the most hurting and desperate people on the face of the Earth; they deserve our love and support, not our condemnation. The Bible has been used to sanctify wars fought for financial gain and for personal glory. Can you give your love and trust and faith to a God who condones this?

God doesn’t condone this. God has no preference, no requirements, no agenda. God simply ‘Is’. We cannot get to know God, have a relationship with It, if we begin with superimposing imperfect human characteristics upon It. I cannot imagine God angry. Why would It be?

Incidentally, some of the people I know with the highest moral standards are not Religious people. These are people I would trust my life with. Some of the clergy I have known, and known well, I wouldn’t lend my bicycle to.

The cover

Here it is...it's finally resembling a real book. I must admit, I'm feeling excited!

Six weeks and counting...

Yes! The final proofread is finished, this image is being prepared for the front cover, the blurb is finished...I am six weeks away from being published.

Next, I have to contact local Cornish newspapers and bookshops to see if I can arrange for reviews and booksignings in July 2007 when I shall be in Cornwall. I plan to sell the novel from my own site, as well as through ebay, where I've signed up to a couple of book club forums (Chick lit and Mad about books) and a couple of Cornwall forums (Cornwall and Cornwall Friends) in the hope that it will generate some interest outside of family and friends! I shall also set up a competition on my website to offer free copies of the book to worthy causes if they can come up with interesting and original reasons as to why they should get a free copy... I'll add a registration section to the 'is' page and offer a 40% discount to the first 20 people who register after publication - so watch this space - or sign up to the RSS feed if you know howe to do that!

Meanwhile, normal life continues...

The digging continued on. And they neglected to leave us an escape route. On returning home last night, I was greeted by a pile of earth and rubble and a two-foot deep trench in front of the gate. And not a soul in sight. Great. They resumed at 6 this morning, feigning not to understand my complaints, discarding cigarette boxes and butts in their wake. Another indication that I have indeed been here too long…I am not too fazed by this. I have discovered that we are being connected to the main water supply. Until now, we have been siphoning off water from a neighbouring house and been charged extortionately for the privilege. Do I expect this transfer to be smooth and trouble-free? Forsooth, I do not.

Seven nights now with little sleep. It’s getting beyond a joke. Munch has been ill, but is recovering. However, she’s now used to her nocturnal hugs and drinks and attention in general. I’m dead on my feet. And of course there’s another little Gremlin not quite up to doing his nights…

Where to next? The eternal, ubiquitous, almost rhetorical question. Turkey, Malaysia, Morocco, Singapore, Thailand, Laos? Or stay put? I have no idea. Too tired to care just now. A job fair looms in Australia...tha doume...

I haven’t picked up the guitar in weeks. Haven’t written a word. Can’t deal with proof-reading…

Things seem to be grinding to a halt.

Hosting hiccoughs

My webhosts are messing me around about payments since I live in Vietnam and my credit card is registered in the UK. I was initially impressed at their vigilance, but frankly now I'm cheesed off. I'm thinking about transfering and hosting elsewhere.

I also just discovered that my brother has set up a new webhosting and web design comany. How's that for fortuitous? www.iconicwebdesign.co.uk

Hope my website doesn't disappear for too long...

Sleep deprived

It is quite amazing how a two-and-a-half year old with a 40 degree fever and frequent bouts of projectile vomiting can keep one from doing what one would otherwise quite like to be doing. :(

Proofreading

..and more proofreading. Until I go blind. I KNOW what is supposed to be there, and so, following the universal law of creation, that is what I see. It's not necessarily what actually is there though, just the illusion of perfection I choose. I press-ganged colleagues at school to proof-read 10 page sections...I couldn't believe the typos and basic grammatical errors they picked up. So, another two hours of corrections. I now have to re-submit to PABD and then re-check their final PDf proof.

I shall go mad if I have to read this bloody thing again.

'is' by Scott Langston

Two years ago

I have discovered a new haunt. Always a joy. A sort of olde worlde French colonial café - La fenêtre du soleil - smack in the centre of town but hidden on the second floor behind a forbidding stairwell. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d never stumble across it. Which explains why I haven’t; before now, that is. I’ve stepped out for the morning – a brief English lesson followed by some private time for me. Full time childcare is tiring, to put it mildly, and I’ve finally accepted that I need to get way now and then, even just of a coffee, for an hour, for my sanity. And what have I done whilst I’ve been sitting here? Reviewed and organized photos from this summer, oo-ed and aw-ed metaphorically at my baby girl, and then wondered what she’s doing at home now…So much for my time away.

I’m in a familiar/not familiar place. Time on my hands, but not when I want it. Constantly tired. Dare I postulate, depressed? Not quite, but down, certainly. I need to slap myself, to wake up from this. Writers’ block. My novel has progressed not one word in two months. I have opportunities for good research, which I simply can’t be bothered to follow up on. I know all the tricks of the trade for defeating this block, but again cannot find the energy to care enough to try. Maybe I just need to do something else for a few months and be busy, to occupy my mind elsewhere, to let my sub-conscious mind do the work for a while. Or do what I tell kids to do in creative writing classes – work on two completely different projects at the same time, switching between he two –or three or four, for that matter- when boredom, frustration or self-doubt invade. I have ideas and designs for some children’s stories which have been lurking for a while. One would think that I’d be inspired for my daughter’s sake in that regard – maybe when she’s better able to react to stories I will find a voice. This is actually one of the points of this diary – a place to just write when it doesn’t flow anywhere else. I missed this over the last few weeks – technical glitches galore in the IT world. Reformatting and reinstalling robbing me of time for very much else. The result? A ‘clean’ PC and a clean laptop, both running the same operating system and networked. The question is: am I actually going to utilise this for creative purposes, or will I simply spend my time watching green and blue progress lines giving me the illusion of progress? My laptop, at least, is diversion free, not an mp3 or a game in sight. Nothing to tempt me from my task – save those summer photos!

is - the novel

SLOW!

I just figured out that maybe I was doing the right thing after all and it's just an incredibly slow process for the blog to get sent to the server...

I'll try again when I have time. For now, this kind of looks pretty enough here.

Scott

Spent over an hour playing with ftp passwords and paths and URL addresses. I have written my own website, admittedly using a template, and published it. No idea why I am incapable of sending this blog to said website.

Frankly more than a little naffed off with it.

Starting somewhere

'is'

It's finally being published. It'll be on this site soon. And Amazon. About time. I need to move on.