Monthly Archives: March 2013

Tweet Tweet

While browsing the Telegraph’s website earlier today I came across the following article, by Celia Walden which resonated with me, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/twitter/9831941/My-husbands-cheating-on-me-with-three-million-people.html. Walden argues that Twitter is about forsaking the present moment in order to brag about it later. For example the author points to the craze which is, apparently prevalent in America where people tweet pictures of their meals rather than sitting down and simply enjoying them! As I’ve remarked before technology is wonderful. It has, however lead some to be enslaved by the technology rather than allowing it to act as their servant.

I’m off now to make a cup of hot chocolate. Please watch out for the photograph of the steaming mug on Twitter. If you are lucky I may even include a full length video of yours truly drinking it. I’m sure you can hardly wait …!

 

Kevin

Sabrina (Part 1)

Have you ever desired something so intensely that the lack of it positively hurt? Tony’s waking thoughts where filled with Sabrina. Her long black hair and emerald green eyes dominated his consciousness. At times Tony fancied that he could smell Sabrina’s delicate scent, a wonderful cocktail of wild flowers comingled with the apple shower gel with which she soaped her lithe young body. The lack of Sabrina’s presence only served to entensify his desire for the girl. He longed to lose himself in Sabrina’s beauty, to bury his nose in the girl’s long black hair. He would drink in her scent his hands softly exploring Sabrina’s face. There lips would meet and then …

He pictured the two of them strolling hand in hand through the woods in springtime. The birds are singing and flowers line the woodland path. They enter a secluded glade shielded from the footpath by high oaks. Without speaking they fall as one to the woodland floor, Their love making being accompanied by the singing of many birds.

On other occasions Tony pictured Sabrina as a beautiful woodland nymph. At a little under five feet in height and being of slim build she was the living personification of the nymphs who populated the myths of which he was so fond. Tony saw Sabrina walking ahead of him in the depths of the forest. He quickens his pace, however the girl without ever appearing to pick up speed remains forever just out of reach.

“Sabrina” he calls.

“Catch me if you can” floats back to him on the spring breeze.

“Sabrina wait for me” he shouts but his voice is lost among the calling of the birds and the babbling of the woodland brook.

But what if he did possess the girl? What then?

“The rose is a thing of beauty much desired by man but, once picked it’s fragrance soon fades leaving only withered petals”.

Should he ask her out for a date? Where she to say no the intricate fantasies which Tony had woven for himself would vanish like snow in springtime. No more moments of delight with Sabrina flitting through the woods , just a big fat “no” to sap his confidence. Tony guessed that he could maintain the fantasy for some considerable time yet. He had a vivid imagination and his occasional encounters with Sabrina only served to heighten the intensity of his fantasising. Where Sabrina to say yes what then? Would growing familiarity start to breed contempt? He thought of his friend Jack. Some six months earlier Jack had, helped by the dutch courage provided by several brandies taken the plunge and asked Lucy, the barmaid in his local pub out for dinner. Their relationship had blossomed like the summer flowers but come winter it had fizzled out and died.

“Mate Lucy and I should have stayed friends. We had great laughs together, she was one of the lads but now she can hardly stand the sight of me” Jack had said sadly, slurring his words as he and Tony sat drinking cider in Jack’s house.

“I can’t go into the Fiddle (Jack’s local) anymore as Lucy can hardly bring herself to be civil and everyones either sniggering behind their hands or feeling sorry for me. I don’t know what’s worse” Jack said.

Maybe it was better to continue to worship his Venus from afar Tony thought. He took a sharp intake of breath. What if Sabrina chose to date someone other than Tony Juniper? Tony’s stomach turned over at the very thought. So far as he knew Sabrina was unattached. Certainly she wore no ring to indicate that she was in a relationship although the lack of a ring was not an infallible sign that a girl was available as Tony well knew.

“I’ll ask her out” Tony said to Smudge his black and white cat. The cat seemed decidedly uninterested not even deigning to acknowledge Tony’s announcement by so much as a sswish of his tail.

“Be like that then” Tony said lifting the cat off his knee.

Smudge rubbed himself against his owner’s legs craving attention but Tony’s thoughts where elsewhere. He was remembering the first time that he had set eyes on Sabrina.

“£30.37 please sir”.

Tony raised his eyes from the belt which had just conveyed his shopping to the cash register and came face to face with his goddess. A pair of green eyes gazed expectantly back at him

£30.37 please” the girl repeated glancing over Tony’s right shoulder at the growing queue behind him.

“Sorry” Tony said fumbling for his debit card while, at the same time trying to read the girl’s name badge. By craning his neck he managed to decipher the name. Sabrina the badge said.

“Sir can I help” Sabrina said annoyance fighting with mirth to gain the upper hand on her face.

“No I’ve found it. Sorry to keep you waiting Tony said extracting his card, inserting it into the card reader and punching in his PIN.

“Have a nice day” Sabrina said as Tony took his shopping and headed for the exit.

Tony knew that she said that to all the customers. It was, almost certainly company policy for the supermarket’s staff to offer this formulaic farewell. None the less Tony left the store with a huge grin on his face.

Ever since the day when he had first encountered Sabrina Tony had increased his twice weekly visits to the supermarket. He now visited at every possible opportunity. He would run out of milk and rather than popping into his local corner shop Tony would visit the supermarket in the hope of seeing Sabrina.

“Just the one item?” the girl said raising her eyebrows at the sight of Tony’s single pint of milk.

“Yes” he replied disconsolately. This girl wasn’t Sabrina. Tony had scanned the checkouts searching for her however following searching looks from the security guard he thought it prudent to go to the nearest till and pay for his milk.

Incidents such as this became increasingly common. On occasions Tony would strike lucky and find himself being served by Sabrina, however in most instances he paid for his single item at a checkout staffed by someone other than his Sabrina.

“His Sabrina”, of course the girl wasn’t his but try as he might Tony could not shake off the view that he and Sabrina where meant to be together. Like a moth to the flame Tony was drawn with ever increasing frequency to the store.

Does the devil still ride out?

On 23 March I wrote “The Collector” (http://www.freeproxy-us.appspot.com/newauthoronline.com/2013/03/23/the-collector/) which tells the story of an encounter between Brian and a satanic presence. Ever since reading “The Devil Rides Out” by Denis Wheatley I have had a passing interest in the supernatural. Wheatley as with many other Christians believes that the devil or Satan is a being or force capable of manifesting itself to those who worship Satan. In “The Devil Rides Out” there is a struggle between the forces of good (the right hand path) and those of evil (the left hand path) resulting in the triumph of the former and the destruction of the Satanist coven.

One might think that Satanists believe in a horned god who bestows power and prestige on his followers. There are certainly Satanists who hold that Satan is an actual force or being to be worshiped in return for wealth and power. However there are also so-called atheist Satanists who hold that Satan does not exist. To such people Satan is a symbolic figure representing the struggle of humans to be free from constraints, to live their lives as they choose. The main organisation promoting this view is the Church of Satan which was founded in the mid 1960’s. Yesterday evening I spent a couple of hours watching a documentary on the Church of Satan (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlQTLovsKaI).

The adherents of the Church of Satan believe in sexual freedom between consenting adults an idea with which many non-followers of the organisation would agree. Of concern is the organisations belief in a form of social Darwinism in which “the strong” have the right to laud it over “the weak”. As one believer expresses it in the documentary the “bum” on the street is of less importance than the CEO of a major company and society should be organised to promote inequality. Of course most people accept that to varying degrees inequality is inevitable and that a certain amount may be desirable  in a free  society. However this view is tempered by a belief in the moral obligation of people to assist the less fortunate via welfare programmes and/or personal charity. So far as I can ascertain there is no such belief among the adherents of the Church of Satan. Their rituals place emphasis on “tooth and claw” for, as animals we are part of the process of natural selection in which the weak will either perish or become subservient to the strong. Most religions emphasise compassion, not so the Church of Satan.

According to the Church of Satan there is no hell. They may well be right in this view. However the doctrines of the Church with it’s emphasis on the Satanic elites could result in the creation of hell on earth.

Take a Break

On 16 March I published Sting In The Tail (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/16/sting-in-the-tail/). The story attracted positive feedback with 12 bloggers liking it. I was delighted with the likes (who wouldn’t be?!), however on re-reading Sting In The Tail I noticed the following errors all of which have now been corrected:

  1. The main actor, Matthew (a fraudster) never reveals his real name to his potential victims. He tells Laura a blind lady he meets in a hotel bar that his name is James. Unfortunately on looking through the story as it appeared on my blog I found that Laura addresses Matthew by his real name rather than his fake name (James). Oops and double oops!
  2. On looking through Sting In The Tail as published on my blog I discovered that Matthew and Laura drink whine. While a guide dog does make an appearance in the story it neither whines nor wines, hence I have corrected the published version to reflect the fact that Matthew and Laura drink wine rather than whine!

How did these ttypos find their way into the published version of Sting In The Tail? Writing Sting In The Tail took some 4 to 5 hours. Having finished I was extremely tired. Instead of making a cup of coffee or going for a walk and returning to re-read my manuscript at a later point I instead read through the story straight away. I corrected a few minor typographical errors and as everything else seemed fine went ahead and published it on my blog! My resolution so far as future writing is concerned is to not publish in haste and repent at leisure. Rather I will save my manuscript, go and do something wholly unrelated to writing and return bright eyed and bushy tailed, at a later time to re-read my stories prior to publishing them. One can never wholly avoid mistakes when writing as even proof readers may miss errors, however it is always best to come at one’s work with a clear mind rather than a brain befuddled by tiredness.

 

The sun light on the walls

Does the fact that I am blind impact on my writing? This question pops into my head occasionally and it is one which I have been meaning to address for some time. First let me describe my level of vision. Sitting in my spare room (where most of my writing takes place) I can see my computer screen. The screen appears blank to me although I know that words are gradually populating it’s surface as Jaws (my screen reading software) announces each time I type a letter). IF I raise my eyes I see the outline of a poster with writing at the foot of the picture. I wouldn’t know what the poster is except for the fact that friends tell me that it shows rather a nice representation of a dolphin. To my right and left are book cases full of braille books. I can see the outline of the books but nothing else. The sun is shining, it’s light on my wall and the quilt make me feel happy. There is something about the gentle rays of the sun which I love and I’m grateful that I have sufficient vision to appreciate the sun.

The fact that I am registered blind does, I believe mean that senses other than sight feature more prominently in my writing than would perhaps be the case where I fully sighted. For example when describing Sam’s visit to Woolton Woods in my book “Samantha” the sound of Sam’s feet crunching through the leaves features prominently due to me loving the noise made when walking on newly fallen leaves. The crunch of freshly fallen leaves coupled with the gorgeous scents which rise from them make for a heady cocktail of sensory delight. Passing through Woolton village Sam is delighted by the fading splendour of the flowers in the hanging baskets which festoon the cottages. I can’t see those baskets but I know through having passed often through the village and having had the baskets described to me what a wonderful display they make. This is not the same as seeing objects oneself, however I do, I hope still manage to impart Sam’s pleasure as she looks on the fading blooms.

For me what is fascinating  about people is what makes them tick. Why individuals are as they are and act in the manner they do is a subject of endless interest. I am more interested in a person’s personality than in how they look which does, very possibly arise from the fact that I can not see people very clearly. Where a friend to pass me today in the street I would see a passing shape. Only when my friend speaks to me do I know that it is John, Brian or Jeff the identification being made by the distinctive sound of my friend’s voices. Living in a sighted world I do, of course fully appreciate the fact that most people are interested in the physical appearance of persons both in real life and fiction. Looks self evidently play a significant role in explaining what initially attracts one sighted individual to another. Talking to my sighted friends I know that physical factors are what first draws them to a person of the opposite sex. All this is not to say that looks are the be all and end all of attraction. Once most people fall into conversation with a person to whom they are physically attracted factors other than appearance come into play, for example does he/she make me laugh and does he/she have similar interests to mine.

Returning to the issue of writing, as a blind writer I find that I sometimes have to remind myself to describe the physical appearance of the people who populate my stories something which I suspect does not happen with writers who are fully sighted. As pointed out above, I am well aware that I live in a sighted world and physical attributes do play an important role in life as in story telling. In certain instances physical attraction is central to my stories. For instance the fact that Becky (a young graduate who enters the world of escorting in order to pay off her debts in “The First Time” is slim and blonde) plays an important role as many customers of sex workers like slim blonde ladies. Consequently it is important that Becky’s appearance is described as “The First Time” would lack authenticity where the central actor’s physical attributes to be overlooked. Having said that the primary point of “The First Time” is to explore the psychological effects of prostitution on Becky. I am more interested in how Becky’s engagement in sex work impacts on her emotionally so once Becky’s description is provided the story concentrates on Becky’s emotional state which is, in my opinion as it should be.

In conclusion my writing is no doubt influenced by the fact of my blindness. I do not believe that this is to the detriment of my craft I do however need to keep in my mind the fact that I live in a sighted world in which vision plays a pivotal role and ensure that where appropriate the visual aspect is reflected in my story telling.

Is the Game Up for Sweden’s Prostitutes?

A recent article in The Independent suggests that Sweden’s criminalisation of the purchasers of sexual services while leaving sex workers free to ply their trade has resulted in a dramatic decrease in prostitution. The Swedish approach is predicated on the view that prostitution constitutes the abuse of prostitutes by men who hold the levers of power. No woman would voluntarily choose to sell their body, consequently buyers of sexual services are exploiting vunnerable women and must be punished by fines or imprisonment for doing so.

A number of comments in response to the article question the view that prostitution is necessarily exploitative and (rightly in my opinion) point to the bias of the piece’s concentration on the opinions of the Swedish police force. Little if any room is given to voices questioning the effectiveness or equity of the Swedish Law on Prostitution.

For the article please visit http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/features/why-the-games-up-for-swedens-sex-trade-8548854.html

There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so

Are certain pleasures in life intrinsically more valuable than others? Is the person who derives pleasure from watching Coronation Street (a British soap opera) but finds nothing which speaks to him in Shakespeare correct when he voices his opinion that soaps possess greater value for him than the Bard’s work due to Coronation Street arousing feelings of enjoyment not aroused by Shakespeare?

Yesterday evening, on the way home from the office I popped into my favourite pub for a pint or two. While there I fell into conversation with an acquaintance. Our discussion ranged far and wide. At one point during our conversation my acquaintance voiced the opinion that a child’s drawing may possess more value than works of art hanging in art galleries and on the walls of rich collectors. Let us leave aside whether the child in question is a budding artist with great talent and assume instead that his picture is a mere scrawl or a mediocre drawing. In such an instance the picture may (and often is) greatly treasured by the child’s parents as being a product of their son or daughter’s artistic efforts. Those unacquainted with the girl or boy in question may not give his creation a second glance but to the loving parents it possesses sentimental importance (they may keep the drawing for years taking it out of a drawer to look at from time to time).

The love of a parent for their children is a precious and beautiful thing, however we can not allow a parents biased view of their child’s talents to determine what constitutes great art. We would not, for example permit the parents of one child to judge the creations of children unrelated to them if the competition included pictures produced by the judge’s own children! The judge might be able to put aside his natural desire to favour his child but even so we would, quite rightly determine that it was inappropriate for him to sit in judgement in a competition featuring pictures produced by his offspring.

Let us broaden the debate and return to the person who obtains greater pleasure from watching soap operas than he derives from Shakespeare. We may disagree with the lover of soap operas and contend (as I do) that Shakespeare is more valuable in that his works portray humanity in all it’s rich diversity, however we can not argue against the fact that for the given individual Coronation Street possesses more value than the works of the bard. However while accepting that the lover of soap operas holds the subjective opinion that Coronation Street is more valuable than Shakespeare we can, by standing back and taking the broader perspective vigorously defend the concept of great art and literature.

Shakespeare’s plays have remained popular since they where first performed in Elizabethan times. The issues addressed by Shakespeare remain as relevant today as when the plays where first written. For example take Macbeth’s musings on ambition

“I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,
And falls on th’other.”

Many a despot has been driven and continues to be propelled by “vaulting ambition”. Wonderful writing which can not be compared to the happenings in Coranation Street. Again Hamlet’s “To be or not to be, that is the question” soliloquy is arguably one of the greatest meditations on the subject of suicide ever written:

To be, or not “to be, that is the question:

Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer

The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,

Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep

No more; and by a sleep, to say we end

The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks

That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,

To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There’s the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,

The Oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s Contumely,

The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn

No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,

Than fly to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,

And thus the Native hue of Resolution

Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,

And enterprises of great pitch and moment,

With this regard their Currents turn awry,

And lose the name of Action.”

Doubtless in future centuries historians will study soap operas to understand popular culture and some will continue to find such soaps entertaining, however it will be Shakespeare and Dickens who retain their positions centre stage not soap operas or mindless “reality” shows in which the boyfriend of a girl who has slept with his (the boy’s father) shouts insults at his partner for the entertainment of the studio audience and the viewer. We no longer have the spectacle of hapless victims being thrown to the lions. It has been replaced by ill educated people who want their paltry 5 minutes of fame strutting and threating their hour upon the stage and, once over to be heard from no more. This is entertainment of a sort but it is not great art or literature, perish the thought.

 

By the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes

As a child I attended several boarding schools for blind children. During this time I shared a number of  dormatories with boys most of who’s names I can still remember! The first dormitory I can recollect had wooden floors with only small mats by each bed onto which we boys could step when dressing or undressing. Despite the huge old radiators my memory is of shivering with cold while dressing in the frosty winter mornings. Oh happy days!

Being boys we regailed one another with all kinds of stories after the lights had been switched off and we should have been in the land of dreams. Among these where stories of ghosts and ghouls. I well remember some clever soul (I think it may have been me but I can’t be sure at this distance in time) regailing his fellow dorm dwellers with a story of a boy who returned from the toilet only to find that the school had been boarded up and that he was trapped inside the building with all kinds of ghosts and ghouls. All this story telling was fine until one of us wanted to leave the room to use the toilet only to find ourselves scared half to death to go alone. What ghastly creatures lurked in the passage outside our dormitory god only knew!

I believe that my interest in ghost stories stems from my early school days. Even now I can feel cold shivers run down my spine when I read or hear a ghost story.

I am an agnostic and keep an open mind as to whether anything beyond the purely material world exists. However, irrespective of whether god or something god-like exists I continue to find ghost stories a great source of enjoyment.

Thus far I have written one ghost story, There are More Things in Heaven and Earth (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/17/there-are-more-things-in-heaven-and-earth/). In the story Michael,a devout atheist (now theirs a contradiction in terms if ever there was one) decides to sleep in the chamber of an old house in which a Victorian serving maid hanged herself. The result is tragic with Michael being found dead the following day.

The story suggests that Michael saw something unspeakable which brought on a massive heart attack. However the sceptic will no doubt argue that people can work themselves up to such a state of fear and/or excitement that they bring about their own demise. The imagination is an extremely powerful thing and I can recollect lying in bed at school listening to creaking floor boards and cooling pipes and being at least half convinced that unearthly forces where abroad.

I’m off to bed now to dream what I hope will be dreams lacking in ghosts and ghouls!

 

Kevin

Exploitation?

Among the arguments advanced by those who believe prostitution should be prohibited is that it constitutes the exploitation of women and men by those who purchase sex. According to this perspective no one would voluntarily choose to sell their body,consequently prostitution is conflated with sex slavery. In some countries this has given rise to a ban on the selling of sexual services (although of course prostitution still persists) while in other nations, for example Sweden the selling of sex remains legal while the purchasers are subject to a fine and/or imprisonment. Underlying the Swedish Law on Prostitution is the view that those who purchase sex have no right to buy the bodies of prostituted persons. The prostitute is the victim so should not be punished while the sex buyer who is fueling the industry must be deterred by criminal sanctions.

As a writer I am interested in the subject of prostitution. My latest book, Samantha (http://www.amazon.com/Samantha-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1364109422&sr=8-2&keywords=samantha+k+morris) tells the story of a young girl forced into the sex industry in Liverpool (a city in the north-west of England). Sam is drugged, compelled to participate in sex acts and then blackmailed into becoming a sex worker. Consequently Sam’s experience fits into the view of prostitution as the exploitation of the prostitute by selfish pimps and sex buyers. Sam’s experience is horrendous and her pimp, Barry richly deserves his grizly end, however Samantha’s experience of prostitution should not be taken as constituting the experiences of all sex workers.

In my story, The First Time (http://www.amazon.com/The-First-Time-ebook/dp/B00AIK0DD6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1364111659&sr=8-2&keywords=the+first+time+kevin+morris) we meet Becky a young graduate with a degree in English literature who enters the world of prostitution, as a professional escort in order to clear a credit card debt. Unlike Sam Becky’s entry into prostitution is a choice (there is no pimp to use and abuse her, only her fellow escort and friend, Julie who tries to discourage Becky from becoming a prostitute). Is Becky exploited by her clients? Becky visits her client’s of her own free will. She doesn’t want to have sex with her first customer, Mike. She wants to return the money and leave. However Becky chooses not to do so due to her need for cash. At no point during her encounter with Mike is Becky threatened in any way, indeed Mike offers her wine and knowing that it is her first time does his best to put Becky at ease.

The First Time does not gloss over the emotional and psychological effects of prostitution. Becky gets drunk in order to cope with her first encounter with a client. After the appointment she is violently ill from a combination of over indulgence in alcohol but, more importantly as a result of her feeling of worthlessness. She feels that she is “not a mere receptacle for men to pour themselves into”, but despite this she is minded to continue as a prostitute until her debts are cleared.

Becky is a free agent who chooses her path in life. One may (and certainly should) have sympathy for Becky however, in the final analysis responsibility for her situation (unlike with Samantha) rests with Becky. Mike does not exploit her. Becky is an adult and makes a conscious decision to enter sex work. Her dire financial position places great pressure on Becky to obtain money fast, however other people in similar positions do not make the same choices as Becky.

In my short story, Rent (http://newauthoronline.com/2013/03/15/rent/) Leah becomes the mistress of a wealthy stockbroker in order to escape from her life of poverty on a rough council estate in East London’s Tower Hamlets. On one level Leah’s rich partner is exploiting her as he knows that she only stays with him due to the financial stability which he can provide. He feeds Leah money as a drug pusher feeds an addict drugs. On the other hand Leah is an adult and relishes the luxurious lifestyle which her relationship with Ian allows her to lead. She exploits Ian as she stays with him not out of love but due to her liking for the expensive gifts he showers on her. Both Leah and Ian are exploiting one another, they are mutually dependent, each gaining something from the connection however unpleasant that may appear to some people.

The issue of prostitution is highly complex. While exploitation does take place this is by no means the whole story. Of course to acknowledge that not all prostitution is, necessarily based on exploitation is not the same as saying that sex work is desirable or the same as any other job.

emotionally cold?

An interesting article in The Daily Mail caught my attention, “Read it and weep! Modern day books contain 14% less emotional content than books published 100 years ago”, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2296585/Read-weep-Modern-day-books-contain-14-emotional-content-books-published-100-years-ago.html