The one that’s come up in particular is sexuality, after a long and rather roving conversation with a friend on the subject. Western society is obsessed with sex, or at least the part that we get to see in the media on a regular basis. This obsession with sex is alleged to be an enlightened view, a liberation from teh sexually repressive attitudes of yore but it’s still an obsession with sex. Everything is seen through the lens of sexual intercourse, or is tinted by the believe that every single human activity is ultimately about sex. This isn’t surprising, when you realise how sexually obsessed the people creating and sustaining this belief are.

The reason I’m bringing this up is because of how damaging it is to relationships. Most obvious is the idea that every relationship is about sex, which makes it hard for men and women to be mere friends. I know from experience of the “behind the scenes” life of media types that the general perception in the media is that when a man seeks any sort of relationship with a woman, it’s because he’s ultimately or primarily after sex. One could spend hours blaming this or that mode of political thought (especially the whole Freudian interpretation of relationships that permeates the collective mind of the media class) but that might be counter-productive – and, to be honest, I don’t have any papers or books to reference on the subject, which makes it a little hard to produce a coherent and well-founded argument.

As I said, the concept of relationships-as-sex is damaging to the individual in obvious ways, but also less obvious ways. The same misunderstanding of the motivations for human behaviour influence the understanding of sexuality as well. This will take a little while to explain, and on top it necessitates putting out a little bit of information that I’ve tended to keep secret up until now because of the misunderstandings that surround it:I am bisexual.

It might not surprise some people who know me but I’m damn sure it’d surprise others to learn this. But what do I mean by bisexual? The popular (and, as far as I’m concerned, wrong) understanding of the term incorporates a wide gamut of definitions and behaviours but, as far as I’m concerned, bisexuality means that a person wants to experience a sexual relationship with both men and women.

Now, being a Christian I wouldn’t want to engage in promiscuous sexual behaviour. Being married, I have vows to maintain, and because I love my wife completely, I can’t really countenance having an intimate relationship with anyone else. Absent those conditions I’d have a slight interest in sex with men, but then absent those conditions I wouldn’t be me.

By this definition bisexuality is fairly simple. It’s about sex. The problem is, relationships more often than not aren’t about sex but about closeness and intimacy. Not “intimacy” in the modern understanding, which is again coloured by the assumption that it necessarily requires a sexual component, but intimacy in an older, more defined meaning of the term that would have been familiar to the writers of pre- and early-post-renaissance romances. The crude term often used is “platonic” or idealised love but that doesn’t really cover it; the word “platonic” is thrown around as often as the word “love” these days, without any real understanding of it’s meaning. Intimacy as I’m trying to define it is the sort of knowledge of the inner soul, the intimacy of life-long companions who know each other’s needs and desires and motivations so implicitly that they often don’t have to speak to communicate. The intimacy of Frodo and Sam from the lord of the rings is often given as an example, but in more general terms the intimate closeness of any partnership that has survived adversity, either of events or simply time.

The post-modern, sex-obsessed world of the media considers such intimacy to be obviously homosexual in nature, because for all their talk about enlightenment they can’t see past their genitals. At one level it’s fun to joke about a gay relationship between Frodo and Sam but, at the same time, it reduces something that is very powerful down to the base and carnal. The idea that two men can be affectionate towards each other without there being some level of homosexuality underpinning the affection has distorted society’s view of relationships to an enormous degree, to the point where you have a lot of people who have accepted the false label of homosexuality or bisexuality for what are perfectly natural, non-sexual behaviours, or who suppress any sort of intimate behaviour, towards both men and women, out of fear of being perceived as “gay”, or less masculine.

It is actually possible to find the male form attractive without being sexually interested in it, and it’s possible for men to be affectionate with other men at a very intimate level without ever having any sort of sexual involvement. The problem is that society, as arbitrated by the media, assigns these behaviours to a sexual foundation rather than one of innocent intimacy.

When I say “I am bisexual” I mean that I find both men and women sexually attractive. I have a rather high sex drive and, if not for my faith, would have very little taste or discernment when it came to sexual partners. This has absolutely no bearing on whether or not I love them and find intimacy with them appealing because, despite the contemporary reductionist belief that all human activity stems from the desire to mate (a belief that was hammered home constantly by the media establishment types when I was at university), sex does not equate to intimacy and sexuality is not love. It is possible to know someone intimately without sex ever coming (so to speak) into the equation. It is possible to love someone so deeply that you would sacrifice everything for them, without every being sexually attracted to them. Our impoverished linguistic understanding of “love” cannot really describe the concept without taking up several paragraphs (in fact C.S Lewis had to take up an entire book – well worth the read, incidentally), and even then the definition is cognitively tainted by the subconscious filtration of love through the concept of sexuality as the primary metaphysical urge. To the post-modern mind, the mind that currently dominates our culture, everything is motivated by sex. The concept that two people can love each other innocently, that love and sexuality are actually separate and sometimes contradictory drives, is alien to a psyche so dominated by an obsession with the sensual that it can no longer understand the spiritual. Even those who claim to be seeking a spiritual understanding tend to let slip that they’re seeking a spiritual experience, falling back to their sensual or “soulish” interaction with the world. But that’s another rant for another day.

Tasca di Pollo con Anacardi

… or, chicken in a pocket with cashews.

Now I’m not so good at precise measurements and tend to go for things in handfuls and pinches rather than kilos and grams, or even pounds and ounces, so the recipe that follows will reflect this. I also like to cook bulk on a budget. Handy, since I have big hands.

That said, on to the ingredients. You can find most of these in Aldi or your local equivalent.

One bag of frozen chopped chicken breast
One or two cloves of garlic
Salad vegetables
Dried or fresh chopped coriander leaf (optional but adds a nice fresh hint)
Lemon juice
Pita bread or a similar bread pocket
Cashew nuts
Ginger

First prepare a salad. Salads are simple, you can buy a bag of Mediterranean salad from Aldi for 99 pence, and then top it up with other veg as you need it for a similar price again, or you can buy all the bits yourself and make it that way. Either way it’s fast and easy, not to mention useful to have around for sandwich filler. I used mushrooms, spring onions, tomatoes, some left-over walnuts and baby sweet corns. Half a bag plus veg can last you several days without any problem, and if it’s going a little bit limp by the end then it makes a perfect backfill for burgers, giving you that authentic McDonalds texture.

Next take a bag of frozen chopped chicken breast, one large clove of garlic, chopped finely (not crushed!), and half a red pepper that I found getting ready to go soft in the back of the fridge, also chopped finely. Glaze the garlic in olive oil in a large pan (preferably not non-stick – it’s probably my imagination but teflon always seems to add a funny flavour) and then start frying the chicken on a low to medium heat straight from frozen, as this will give it a nice browning and infuse the garlic flavour. Toss in the cashews and some ginger and continue turning for a while until everything is well coated in the oil, then leave to soak heat on a low setting.

Whilst the chicken is infusing, pop the pita thing under the grill to start warming and toasting it. Depending on your bread choice the time for this can vary.

When the chicken is starting to brown a little, throw in a couple of shakes of the coriander and the chopped pepper and turn up the heat for a final blast, turning vigorously. Towards the end add in a little lemon juice and if you’re feeling adventurous a splash of white wine. Continue to turn until the coriander is well spread and everything looks satisfactory.

Remove the bread from the oven when it’s toasted to preference.

Now fill the pocket with chicken and salad and add pepper or whatever else takes your fancy. Two pockets will probably fill you up, and from a single bag of the chopped chicken you get enough to make at least six. Once cooled the chicken also makes a decent sandwich filler or can be mixed with the salad and some feta.

A person, especially one not trained to consider what one sees with at least a bit of dispassionate skepticism, can simply absorb ideas passively by watching films or television.

More true than you even realise. When I was doing my undergrad, part of the course on media analysis included information on how the brain reacts to television and film compared to other forms of media. Television and film specifically create a very passive state in the viewer. The combination of the hypnotic effect of a fast strobe light and the generally passive state the viewer must enter to take part in the piece work together to produce an incredibly suggestible state of mind, one where ideas are much more easily absorbed by the viewer than in any other situation. It’s akin to hypnotic suggestion. Film in particular is immensely powerful in this regard, as the scale and overwhelming force of a film in a cinema strip away any natural defences against the ideas being presented to you.

C.S. Lewis would have described this as the difference between contemplation and enjoyment of a particular thing, which he outlined in Medition in a Toolshed, where he compared Contemplation and Enjoyment by refernece to a beam of light shining through a crack in the door. Contemplation is looking at the beam of light from the outside, in the dark of the shed, seeing the motes of dust twinkling in it and being able to see that it’s a beam of light, where it falls, what angle it’s at. Enjoyment is akin to looking along the beam, so that you no longer see the beam of light but are immersed totally in it; along the beam you see sky, clouds, the top of a tree. You no longer contemplatively see the beam of light, you are “enjoying” it.

Looking at a film from outside, reading the plot and examining the ideas contained produces an contemplative effect that isn’t nearly as potent as the “enjoyment” effect caused by actually watching the film. When you contemplate a film you examine it’s characteristics in a different way to when you are enjoying it. This state of enjoyment is where film and television become so powerful and consequently so easily used for manipulation. In the enjoyment of the film you are totally immersed in it to the point where your own self, your id, almost becomes lost and quiescent. “You” nearly cease to exist, your role is so passive and so enjoined. In that state, the message presented to you is absorbed as easily as a sponge soaking up water.

Perhaps with the exception of staged theatre, no other media has this effect. Not even computer games. Anything that requires an active participation consequently requires a contemplation, and contemplation requires personality and individuality. And whilst both contemplation and enjoyment – looking at the beam and along it – are necessary modes of thought one must be aware that each requires the other to be whole. To be totally looking along the beam one must necessarily give up looking at the beam – one must give up more logical and rational assessment to become lost in the experience.

Most people in the industry don’t even realise this. They just instinctively know that television and film are very powerful tools for spreading a message.

If I were to watch this film it’d be on my computer with the lights on, a cup of tea, and perhaps with some music. That would prevent me from losing myself in the spectacle and allow me to rationally examine its message and undertones. I’d be able to enjoy the impressive special effects without losing myself in the message. I certainly wouldn’t watch it in a cinema.

Every time I visit Sweden it always strikes me how contradictory the place is, and I have a suspicion that it’s all seated in some sort of bizarre national psychological problem stemming from the fast pace of societal change at the turn of the century. Most countries went from an agrarian society to an industrial society, and then onto a service-based economy over the course of perhaps four or five generations. Sweden went straight from agrarian to service-based in under two, if I have my history correct. Such a rapid change has to have some sort of traumatic effect on the society as a whole.

It shows up in odd ways. Odd contrasts of liberality and conservatism within the same thought. When I came here for my wedding, Christina’s parents had no qualms about the thought that we’d be sharing a bed before the big day. But, then and now, when they made the bed, her mother gave us two separate blankets. One each. I’m not sure whether to assume this is just chris’s mother, or women in general from her part of Sweden but it struck me how odd the whole thing was. It was like a metaphorical attempt to push the beds together – with the equal implication that they would, in this metaphor, be separate most of the time. It’s a rather peculiar puritanism that assumes a married couple will sleep in separate beds except when they’re making the beast with two backs, yet that the act of marriage is merely incidental to the fact of their pushing the beds together in the first place.

I have no markers for how common this attitude is. Perhaps it’s just that I got a more conservative family to stay with – after all, they have three children in a nation where most people apparently only have one or two at most.

Most peculiar.

That I mentioned Sweden’s rapid social change at the beginning also seems to tie into something I just read on Charles Crawford’s blogoir, of enforced social equality and romanticising primitivism. It’s interesting. I’m going to spend a little while checking things out and then see if I can make something of it in regards to Sweden’s behaviour toward herself.

But this is good! In a few months we’ll have the apartments built and sold and we’ll be squillionaires. Or, at least, in a position to potentially become that since it’ll let us pay off the mortgage on the family residences. In the current economic climate, outright ownership of property is absolutely essential because the banks are starting to get twitchy about their incomes.

So. Yes, we’re off on the journey. Next year it’ll be property development overseas. Paraguay here we come!

Simply: I overstepped the bounds of decent conversation and became, if not offensive, then at least insulting. I made assumptions that I should not have made and I slipped into the very traps that I have criticised others for slipping into in the past. I don’t know if you’ll accept it or not, El, but you’re a sound bloke and you’ve made me stop for a moment and think about what I’m saying. That has to be worth something, right?

Acairasthenephobia, Ah-kai-ras-then-eh-phobia, n, a fear of falling ill out of hours (Gr negative prefix A; cairo (or kairós) – right time; asthenes – ill; and phobia, qv).

Since she’s in Sweden right now I gratefully accept the award in her behalf, and will tell her about it just as soon as I’ve had my name engraved over the top of hers and received the large sums of money that must inevitably come with such a prestigious honour.

Anyway this one, the case it comes in is very attractive. Normally I just ignore the box, but they’ve gone to great lengths to make it look special. It’s all faux leather with stitching and buckles and badges, so very nice to look at by itself. There’s a bit of harking back to the supposed lost age in here I think…

Anyway, to the whisky itself. All glenlivets look the same to me, a rather fetching ruddy gold, but this one seems to be a little darker which I can only assume is down to the sherry casks they’ve used. European oak again. The box mentions cedarwood as an aroma but on top of that I can smell something spicy. Cloves, a little paprika. I can smell the cedar again now. Ahh, and after that there’s a hint of that sulphur but it seems to be hiding behind peardrops, oddly enough, and something that smells a little of aniseed. Veeery nice… just a tiny hint of apple.

Sulphur. Strange how it’s not an overpowering taste even though it’s definitely there. Of course nearly all taste is actually smell so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but that last little sensation in the mouth can make or break a whisky. I’m actually not that impressed with this one. It tastes a little heavier and a little, I guess, a little more bitter. There’s a lot of vanilla in the aftertaste and more of that aniseed. It’s very smooth, rolls down the throat nicely.

It would seem that glenlivet are attempting to hark back to the pre-war days of whisky, when the majority was matured in european sherry oak rather than american oak. I am impressed by the attempt, but I’m not quite so impressed by the result, which is a little heavy and oily for my tastes. I won’t knock them though; it’s a very fine whisky and I shall be attempting to keep a bottle of it in my collection for as long as it’s available.

If you don’t know, Julmust is a drink that they consume in Sweden, in large quantities, over christmas. Not even Coca Cola can compete with t; they don’t even try now. I’m not entirely sure what’s in it, though the ingredients list the “aroma” of hops and barely malt, which makes it a civilised enough drink. I got completely hooked on it a couple of years back when I had some at Easter (they call it Påskmust then, Påsk meaning ‘Easter’ and Must meaning… well I don’t know, but it’s the same drink) and until today I wasn’t able to find any anywhere. Now I have.

The year is looking to end on a high note. If only we could sort out the whole EU constitution thing, everything would be perfect.

No longer drink water exclusively, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach – 1 Timothy 5:23

Alcohol played a large part in the life of the early church and, protestations of certain denominations and other adversarial religions to the contrary, it is something that should be cherished and considered a blessing.

Anyway. Today’s whisky is one called Ardbeg, which rather ostentatiously declares itself to be “the best whisky in the world” or some such rot. I can tell you right now it isn’t, but it is pretty good.

Ardbeg is a Islay, and obviously one. You can smell it the moment you open up the bottle, that distinct oak and burnt earth smell that seems so particular to Islays. The nose is a little smoother than Laphroaig, and a little less characterful in some ways, moreso in others. There’s hints of resin and freshly cut mahogany, which is probably the same thing…

The taste, too, is islay to the core. Again, it is smoother than Laphroaig and Lagavulin, but retains most of the characteristic bite of an Islay. It’s a little uneven on the pallate though; where the other two southern Islays will claw at your tongue and the roof of your mouth before rewarding you with the more generous aftertastes, Ardbeg tends to stick to your tongue and the back of your cheeks, and the aftertastes are a little less bitter than its two cousins, and less rewarding as a result. Otherwise it flows quite nicely down the throat, again with the characteristic cutting bite of an Islay. Definitely not a whisky to be casually approached. Ardbeg will probably best accompany a meal of salmon or trout, or even scampi at a pinch, and is best shared with others in a dimly lit room over a game of some sort, or after (or even during, if you have a flask) a long day of walking.

Overall, again, the drink is a little uneven, but it’s good enough if you want to keep the Islay taste but aren’t willing to stretch to the Lagavulin.

update 2007-08-27

On second tasting it seems my initial judgement was unfair. This drink is still not as good as the lag, but it’s much more rounded and full-bodied than I first gave it credit. The uneveness I tasted was probably exaggerated a little by the presence of some other flavours from another drink. Or maybe even the smell of my computer. Who knows?