In this issue: cuddly Rorschach nears completion, a new smoothie, a rationalisation of some filthy late nights, why socialism isn't for me, the joys of possession and a mythology for Hampstead Campus.

• 2 apples (green ones)
• 1 reasonable box of blackberries
• about 2 cups of grape juice to help it blend
• 1 or 2 ice cubes
• no compromises

What I worry might happen if my plushie is left alone with my plastic figure of the universe's most committed bleeding-heart liberal. And now I promise to shut up about Watchmen for a few paragraphs.




All this I discovered at some godawful hour. The problem with all our weird timetables is that really, you have to pounce on oppertunities to spend time with people, because you've no idea when you'll get a chance. Seriously, I could be dead for several weeks before any Denzins of the Dude noticed anything out of the ordinary. Everyone else would just presume, as I do when I don't see them for a bit, that I just keep missing them.

This tends to lead to some quite weird hours, and the problem of the incompatable timetables is exacerbated by them. The "light side of the kitchen" are fond of clubbing, which means they are frequently seen having breakfast when any sane Victorian would be eating their tea. Angelicus has this theory man can survive on five hours of sleep a night, and is apparently getting good results from the tests he's been doing on this. Vapilla sometimes seems to become almost nocturnal. And everyone can be found on occasion, making cereal or toast in the small hours of the morning. It's having a 24 hour Sainsburies that does it, and a 24 hour bus route down the road.

It's my friends fault, really, firstly for keeping different hours to me (I'm not claiming mine aren't equally inconvenient), and secondly for having interesting things to say. If only they were boring! So Day 1 ended with me and Angelicus talking religion, gay rights and the Fireman Sam theme tune until something like 3. It was late enough that attempting to talk about what happened to Oscar Wilde made me embarrassingly teary and choked up. It's no secret that it's a subject I feel intensely strongly about, but all the same I normally manage to express it more eloquently. Though i do enjoy the lateness in a way, because the inaccurate dawn chorus actually happens at that time, so when I fall into bed I'm carried away by birdsong. It's gorgeous - pity living those hours makes life quite tricky, because it's truly lovely. And Day 2 wasn't much better, with Sustenus and Vapilla discussing I can't remember what. I say Day 1 and 2 because I've lost track of the days - Monday, surely, I read Watchmen then had an early night (or did I go for a snack after that...?), but if Angelicus was Tuesday then that makes S+V Wednesday. Which is an odd temporal conundrum, because that means it's still in my future. Couldn't we loop in an extra 24 hours sometime in the first half of the week?



It is Wednesday today...isn't it?

In other news, the alarmingly radical group who spearheaded the Gaza protest are running for the Student Union. I never thought I'd vote for the darn thing, but I am purely to ensure they don't get in. Now the Gaza protest scared me, mostly because of its politics. They claimed several times it was merely a humanitarian thing, but everyone knew it wasn't true. Take the Jewish society who really objected to the anti-Israel subject matter. Their manifesto states that they will involve the Student Union further in campaigning for rights, not only for students but for everyone, and rides on the back of the protest. The Kings Student Union does not have a duty to be involved in politics/campaigning; quite the reverse, it should be apolitical to better represent the whole of the student body.

I can't put my finger on what I don't like about Socialism, but I suspect it's the same reason you don't find many out-people hanging around the Church. Why would you want to spend time with a group which (and I'm generalising now) cannot stand you or anything you represent? I've spend my entire life in a tax haven, which makes its money from tourism and rich crooks on the dodge. My mum's a merchant banker. I went to a private school. You can appreciate why I find
the concept of socialism a little hard to take, because when they're talking about smashing the system and crushing the advantaged, well...that's me, the place I live and the people I know. Even if the basic ideas are solid and just, you can see why I don't feel represented by the Socialist Workers party. It's also the word "revolution" - meant to be stirring and dramatic, and I respond with the appropriate alarm. There is no such thing as a bloodless revolution. And I thought Marx thought communism would evolve naturally, not be enforced by idealists?





Besides, I like my stuff. I'm not exactly materialistic, but I am sentimental. Tyler Durden might say "You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet", and while it's true to an extent, Tyler Durden is also a dangerous nutcase and I'm not sure we should take anything he says too seriously. And neither does my friend Harvey.



I mean, did I ever tell you about Planet of Fire? It's one of my favourite episodes of Doctor Who, and it's also the one with which I have perhaps the most intense relationship (if you can call it that). I planned far in advance that I was going to order this episode, because it featured Turlough and I'd taken a liking to him. The problem was, I started expecting it to arrive before I'd ordered it. Kinda like seeing the post and thinking "hmmm, there's something I have to remember about the post - oh wait, haven't ordered it yet". I was a bit of a mess after ordering it. The problem started when it arrived, and I'd got into the habit of waiting for it so hard that even now when I flick through the post at home, I frequently expect it to show up.



So even discounting the contents of the episode, which are explosive enough on their own, it's a very special tape; and I'm overjoyed that I'll be able to get it signed by both Nicola Bryant and Mark Strickson in the next few months if they don't pull out of the various signings.





Yessir, I love my possessions. It'll explain why my room is such a tip, because everything turns into a souveneer. Even my sheets and lecture notes - the doodles and musings in the margin will tell you which week, sometimes the day exactly it was used, because it'll reflect my interests at the time. And that goes for many things: the value of my jewellry isn't rooted in it's worth, but in who gave it to me, or when I got it for myself. Sentimental, supersticious almost - I do tend to wear jewellry to recall a certain time over any other reason.



So I didn't feel too bad about impulse-buying Watchmen with a birthday book token on Monday, just as I happened to pass a Waterstones at which it was on offer. I'm so sorely tempted to go and see it again at the cinema, which is daft because we'll get it on DVD ultimately. And in 4 hour edition at that. So I decided the comic was a better investment - I've wanted it for a very, very long time now, and I've been putting it off the way I always put off things I want. Possession is a beautiful thing. It's mine, actually mine. I'm starting to wonder whether possession might be an important aspect of love for real people, in the same way it is for objects. It would explain jealousy to begin with. I can only define my reaction to having my copy of Watchmen as an intense and crazy crush, and I carried it around for the rest of the day beaming. Even Sustenus got the distinction - I bumped into him halfway down the Strand, and his first comment was "is that your copy", with the emphasis on the your. To be honest, I was just overjoyed someone else got the distinction.

I'm also happy to announce hitting my fourtieth copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. I was reading my new edition up the road on the bus, and it is still the second most beautiful thing in creation.





Finally, I'm coming up with a mythos for the Hampstead Penates. The word "penates" is Latin, and represents the household gods. It's nothing out of the ordinary. Lord Cameron and Lady Chapman are at the head of the pyramid, obviously father and mother archetypes. They preside over the other penates, he representing order, justice and severity, she representing whatever it is mother goddesses do. It's harder to define somehow - nurturing, I suppose. Both represent order in their own way, in the way Hera sanctifies the institution of marriage. I see Lord Cameron in red, having a nice sandy beard.





They are the parents to Rosalind Frankin, who's a maiden archetype, all youth and beauty. Maynard and the Dude are rival brothers, and represent her suitors, though it's Maynard who is her obvious opposite as the "young man", all fire and action and passion, in the same way she's passive and quietly powerful. You'd want to invoke Maynard for war, or more proverbially, sport. The Dude himself is more of a trickster archetype - I think of him somewhat like Clint Eastwood's "Man with no Name". Silent, sulky, and intensely cool. I've been asked whether the Dude can be black, to which the answer is yes, certainly if I ever develop them enough to be able to do a full portrait. Though right now, I can only see him as a shadow under a brown hat, in the same way Cameron is only a beard and Maynard only a bad temper. Rosalind and Chapman need work, because I can't see them at all, which is probably a symptom of only having a vague image of their role in the structre.



The final two Penates (you'll note that Hampstead Campus conveniently has 7 buildings, which is perfect for mythology building) are Chesney (f) and Ellison (m), the twins. They represent intellect, academia, and artistic pursuits. I'm not sure which of the two is the artist and which the thinker, and as I haven't had any clear ideas it's posible the roles are interchangeable. I can only see her as golden light, and him as pale blue-silver light.

More details as I figure them out. You heard it here first, folks.