Post by Taylorholic78 on Jul 25, 2005 13:46:31 GMT -5
* from www.trusttheprocess.com
Throughout the course of 1998 John (the artist formerly known as Nigel) expressed many thoughts, opinions, ideas and insights (or just the ramblings of a madman to some!) through a feature on this website called The Nigel Page. We thought we would bring them all back for those who might have missed them.
February 1998
What to say? Nigel, after having set himself up as some kind of arbiter of taste and morality, always having a point of view, something to say, and here he is, Thursday in February, (is it raining where you are?) gloomy, not like LA, not why I came here at all....The rain around here is quite unlike any rain I have seen- it is so violent and the water builds up so quickly.... I think that the drains are not built to expect such extreme conditions...(When at a loss for something to say, the English will always make reference to the weather...) but I still have my pretty coloured Christmas lights, which give my room a degree of extra gaiety, I do so hate taking them down, I get used to the pretty coloured glow and usually leave them up until spring. These guys are going to stay here all year! Why experience something that is so obviously a good thing just for one month a year? Instant, constant gratification all of fhe time....that is what I say! ....Of course I do not really believe that, I surely do appreciate the need for disciplines in life. Without them, nothing is possible. And yet, at the same time, practice can be a drag... Getting life right is all about getting the balance right. Disciplines and sensual pleasures, hot and cold, fish and meat, rock and funk... I have always liked a lot of different sounds, styles and looks. Beliefs in anything, of a one minded absolutist kind, I find ridiculous. There is always more than one way of looking at something, especially something as abstract as how did we get here?... which is why I am not really one for religion. Ours is the true way, the one way, the right way and further: All those other ways? They are wrong.
I was raised Catholic. Went to Catholic school from age five to eleven, went to mass every Sunday and at holidays (Holy-Days) At first I figured everyone felt the same as me, believed the same as me. Later I learnt that there were others. These I soon came to think of as non-believers . These were the people that would be going to hell without any possible chance of escape.... but just being catholic and going to mass on sundays did not automatically mean one would get a go to heaven free card, oh no... there was a trick to it; Throughout life certain decisions will be made that will affect my going to heaven status. If I do not play my cards right, it could be hell for me, too.
The concept of last rites always seemed fucked up to me. For example: Man lives badly for fifty years. Rapes, kills, steals... buys Hootie & The Blowfishs' second album.... Gets sick and is admitted to hospital, where a catholic priest is brought to visit him. Man makes broad admission of all his wrongdoings. Priest in the spirit of forgiveness that characterizes Jesus and His followers, absolves man of his sins. Man passes away before priest has left the parking lot, i.e. before he has chance to commit more badness, so he hops right aboard that ethereal expressway to cleanwatersville, that is Heaven Central.
Example 2: Lady lives long clean life. Pays taxes, gives generously to charity and poor passerby. Drives an electric car. Takes holy communion every chance she can. One day she is having a bad morning. Curling tongues are not working, no milk in the fridge. On the way to work she blasphemes, several times, at traffic. (You know the stuff, we all do it... "Jesus! You idiot,why don't you look where you're going, you jerk! Oh my God! I cannot believe this....") etceteras and so forth. Unfortunately as she approaches a traffic junction her car is travelling way too fast, the road is wet, and instead of stopping, the car glides into the back of a huge trailer-truck, which smashes through her windscreen and lobs her head clean off, at a mild twenty-five m.p.h. Now, what of this lighthouse to humanity? This staunch supporter of the ways and means of Jesus and the catholic church? Well... according to my reckoning, she is on her way to purgatory, which is a kind of waiting room or transit camp, between hell and heaven, thanks to her recent crime against (one of) the ten commandments. When, and only when friends and relatives have offered up enough prayers to pay off the blaspheming debt, will she be released into the arms of St. Peter with her access all areas pass for the pearly gates. Now what if she has no friends or living relatives? No one living to account for her plight? Well, the future is grim, I would say. She could get stuck in that holding bay for ooh... heaven knows how long... Now I may not have understood things as they really are within the rules of the Catholic faith, and if there is someone out there who can put me right, I will be happy to hear about it. But no matter: At the age of ten this is what I believed, and pretty fucking chancy it seemed to me, I must say.
However, nonetheless, and back to my point. I was a believer, and still had a tricky road ahead of me. As for the others? Heathens. Low-lifes and losers, no other words for 'em! This is quite typical of organized religions; Baptists, Protestants, Judaic... you name it. If you are one of them, then you hold the key to the magical kingdom and Jesus' heart. But if you aren't... then salvation will not be accorded to you when the time comes.... naught but misery and slavery await thee!....
When I left Catholic school at eleven and moved on to my local grammar school I made a discovery. I was a minority. There were others, people who were not Catholic, and they were not all stupid, they did not all seem like losers... I remember explaining to one of the older boys on the school bus which school I had been to before, "Our Lady Of The Wayside" I said, "in Shirley...." "Oh.... you're an RC are you?" said he with what I caught to be a single sneer in his voice "um, yes, I suppose so" I answered.
But what was a RC? The way he said it I heard it as arsey.... An arsey. What the heck was an arsey? Well at eleven I had a dim concept of what it could mean, and I did not like it. Later on, terms like Arse Bandit and Fudge Packer, seemed to suggest a similar meaning, but how could that be? Could my schooling affect my sexual orientation? Right then at age eleven I got to worrying.... That big boy seemed plenty sure of himself, "Oh well, if you went to Our Lady Of The Wayside you must be an arsey..."
Naive? Perhaps, but I was not about to ask anyone for clarification either, more fool me. Which reminds me of a joke I once heard a six form girl tell:
"Two nuns in a bath, one says to the other -"where's the soap? " Other nun says,"Yes, doesn't it...." For the life of me I could not understand that joke. For years. Not that that stopped me from telling it, often!
Sixth form girls always sat on the back seat of the coach (Note to our U.S. readers: For school coach please read school bus). The back seat of the coach always seemed the place to be. On the back seat of the coach I learnt of Marc Bolan's tragic death....- crashed into a tree, and David Bowie's retirement from the stage... or was it just Ziggy retiring? Time would tell...
The School bus, I think you will all agree, is a crucial societal environment. Spending an hour or more each morning and afternoon with other people's kids... no teachers, no parents... it is bound to be that certain social skills become developed there, or else! The Chat-Up line, for example; excuses to sit next to girls... The copying of homework or, slightly better, last minute revision. Every day, from age five to seventeen I spent a good part of two hours on the school bus. I had the pleasure of travelling through some of England's finest countryside, rain or shine, snow or heat wave, year after year, and barely took notice. I was too interested keeping my hand on Julie's knee before she noticed...
I hope all this doesn't sound overtly macho. I know there are those of you out there who felt, and now feel, differently in your psychological sexual orientation. Perhaps you do not relate to what I am saying. Well, please understand I can only tell my story one way, and that is from my perspective. I could try telling it from someone else's, like my mother's, and it surely would make for an interesting writing assignment, but take it from me, no one else is going to have quite as deep an insight into my stuff as I am. OK? Good.
Throughout the course of 1998 John (the artist formerly known as Nigel) expressed many thoughts, opinions, ideas and insights (or just the ramblings of a madman to some!) through a feature on this website called The Nigel Page. We thought we would bring them all back for those who might have missed them.
February 1998
Nigel gets self-conscious...
What to say? Nigel, after having set himself up as some kind of arbiter of taste and morality, always having a point of view, something to say, and here he is, Thursday in February, (is it raining where you are?) gloomy, not like LA, not why I came here at all....The rain around here is quite unlike any rain I have seen- it is so violent and the water builds up so quickly.... I think that the drains are not built to expect such extreme conditions...(When at a loss for something to say, the English will always make reference to the weather...) but I still have my pretty coloured Christmas lights, which give my room a degree of extra gaiety, I do so hate taking them down, I get used to the pretty coloured glow and usually leave them up until spring. These guys are going to stay here all year! Why experience something that is so obviously a good thing just for one month a year? Instant, constant gratification all of fhe time....that is what I say! ....Of course I do not really believe that, I surely do appreciate the need for disciplines in life. Without them, nothing is possible. And yet, at the same time, practice can be a drag... Getting life right is all about getting the balance right. Disciplines and sensual pleasures, hot and cold, fish and meat, rock and funk... I have always liked a lot of different sounds, styles and looks. Beliefs in anything, of a one minded absolutist kind, I find ridiculous. There is always more than one way of looking at something, especially something as abstract as how did we get here?... which is why I am not really one for religion. Ours is the true way, the one way, the right way and further: All those other ways? They are wrong.
I was raised Catholic. Went to Catholic school from age five to eleven, went to mass every Sunday and at holidays (Holy-Days) At first I figured everyone felt the same as me, believed the same as me. Later I learnt that there were others. These I soon came to think of as non-believers . These were the people that would be going to hell without any possible chance of escape.... but just being catholic and going to mass on sundays did not automatically mean one would get a go to heaven free card, oh no... there was a trick to it; Throughout life certain decisions will be made that will affect my going to heaven status. If I do not play my cards right, it could be hell for me, too.
The concept of last rites always seemed fucked up to me. For example: Man lives badly for fifty years. Rapes, kills, steals... buys Hootie & The Blowfishs' second album.... Gets sick and is admitted to hospital, where a catholic priest is brought to visit him. Man makes broad admission of all his wrongdoings. Priest in the spirit of forgiveness that characterizes Jesus and His followers, absolves man of his sins. Man passes away before priest has left the parking lot, i.e. before he has chance to commit more badness, so he hops right aboard that ethereal expressway to cleanwatersville, that is Heaven Central.
Example 2: Lady lives long clean life. Pays taxes, gives generously to charity and poor passerby. Drives an electric car. Takes holy communion every chance she can. One day she is having a bad morning. Curling tongues are not working, no milk in the fridge. On the way to work she blasphemes, several times, at traffic. (You know the stuff, we all do it... "Jesus! You idiot,why don't you look where you're going, you jerk! Oh my God! I cannot believe this....") etceteras and so forth. Unfortunately as she approaches a traffic junction her car is travelling way too fast, the road is wet, and instead of stopping, the car glides into the back of a huge trailer-truck, which smashes through her windscreen and lobs her head clean off, at a mild twenty-five m.p.h. Now, what of this lighthouse to humanity? This staunch supporter of the ways and means of Jesus and the catholic church? Well... according to my reckoning, she is on her way to purgatory, which is a kind of waiting room or transit camp, between hell and heaven, thanks to her recent crime against (one of) the ten commandments. When, and only when friends and relatives have offered up enough prayers to pay off the blaspheming debt, will she be released into the arms of St. Peter with her access all areas pass for the pearly gates. Now what if she has no friends or living relatives? No one living to account for her plight? Well, the future is grim, I would say. She could get stuck in that holding bay for ooh... heaven knows how long... Now I may not have understood things as they really are within the rules of the Catholic faith, and if there is someone out there who can put me right, I will be happy to hear about it. But no matter: At the age of ten this is what I believed, and pretty fucking chancy it seemed to me, I must say.
However, nonetheless, and back to my point. I was a believer, and still had a tricky road ahead of me. As for the others? Heathens. Low-lifes and losers, no other words for 'em! This is quite typical of organized religions; Baptists, Protestants, Judaic... you name it. If you are one of them, then you hold the key to the magical kingdom and Jesus' heart. But if you aren't... then salvation will not be accorded to you when the time comes.... naught but misery and slavery await thee!....
When I left Catholic school at eleven and moved on to my local grammar school I made a discovery. I was a minority. There were others, people who were not Catholic, and they were not all stupid, they did not all seem like losers... I remember explaining to one of the older boys on the school bus which school I had been to before, "Our Lady Of The Wayside" I said, "in Shirley...." "Oh.... you're an RC are you?" said he with what I caught to be a single sneer in his voice "um, yes, I suppose so" I answered.
But what was a RC? The way he said it I heard it as arsey.... An arsey. What the heck was an arsey? Well at eleven I had a dim concept of what it could mean, and I did not like it. Later on, terms like Arse Bandit and Fudge Packer, seemed to suggest a similar meaning, but how could that be? Could my schooling affect my sexual orientation? Right then at age eleven I got to worrying.... That big boy seemed plenty sure of himself, "Oh well, if you went to Our Lady Of The Wayside you must be an arsey..."
Naive? Perhaps, but I was not about to ask anyone for clarification either, more fool me. Which reminds me of a joke I once heard a six form girl tell:
"Two nuns in a bath, one says to the other -"where's the soap? " Other nun says,"Yes, doesn't it...." For the life of me I could not understand that joke. For years. Not that that stopped me from telling it, often!
Sixth form girls always sat on the back seat of the coach (Note to our U.S. readers: For school coach please read school bus). The back seat of the coach always seemed the place to be. On the back seat of the coach I learnt of Marc Bolan's tragic death....- crashed into a tree, and David Bowie's retirement from the stage... or was it just Ziggy retiring? Time would tell...
The School bus, I think you will all agree, is a crucial societal environment. Spending an hour or more each morning and afternoon with other people's kids... no teachers, no parents... it is bound to be that certain social skills become developed there, or else! The Chat-Up line, for example; excuses to sit next to girls... The copying of homework or, slightly better, last minute revision. Every day, from age five to seventeen I spent a good part of two hours on the school bus. I had the pleasure of travelling through some of England's finest countryside, rain or shine, snow or heat wave, year after year, and barely took notice. I was too interested keeping my hand on Julie's knee before she noticed...
I hope all this doesn't sound overtly macho. I know there are those of you out there who felt, and now feel, differently in your psychological sexual orientation. Perhaps you do not relate to what I am saying. Well, please understand I can only tell my story one way, and that is from my perspective. I could try telling it from someone else's, like my mother's, and it surely would make for an interesting writing assignment, but take it from me, no one else is going to have quite as deep an insight into my stuff as I am. OK? Good.
