Looking Down: Houses Of Worship and The Poor

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Why do houses of worship stand imperiously – almost mocking – overlooking the slums of cities? The photo above was taken in Casablanca; however, could just as easily have been taken in any city. It’s an almost universal issue with the world. The house of worship could be a Christian Cathedral, Islamic Mosque, Judaist Synagogue or Buddhist temple but the situation would be the same. They tower over the poor like a boot on the throat. The colossal Cathedral in my home town in Killarney was constructed during the Great Irish Famine in 1845, while millions in the country starved.

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The Modern Ruins of An Amusement Park

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Bumper cars flipped and rusting staring out from cracked plastic eyes as the undying casted smile takes on an eerie cynicism. The grass grows high and luscious around disused amusement rides as if declaring that nature will once again engulf what man has left behind. A high wired prison-fence encloses the forgotten joy, trapping it out of reach. It’s almost like a museum of joy and happiness untouched and left to decay with cancerous rust.

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Ignorant Hypocrisy – It’s Simply Mind Boggling

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Hypocrisy is an inevitable gutter that we all at time step into; however, ignorant hypocrisy is something far less palatable. I was recently present at – as oppose to engaged in – a conversation with two middle-aged English men, who were fixing my car. They were in some ways stereotypical of the ‘expats’ I described in my last post. However, they can be characterised as oblivious to learn about (not feeling superior to) the Spanish society they live in.

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Ponderings On The Term Expat

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I recently came across an opinion piece in The Guardian on the term ‘expat’ that really piqued my interest. It asserted that the term was an inherently racist one that elevated European migrants to the status of ‘expat’ above their migrant peers from other parts of the world. For me, the term has an altogether different – less flattering – meaning based on the people who I have encountered use it and those that I have seen it used to describe.

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Holi: A Festival of Rainbows & Love

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A time when we shake of the decorum and expectations of adulthood and re-enact what was once a simple weekend activity. The blissful simplicity of youth is reborn and we renounce expectation. Some Gulal power paint, cheap water guns and the desire to create a rainbow of anarchic revelry is all one really needs for the Holi festival. Its origins and sentiment are perhaps as beautiful as the vibrant crowd it produces.

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The Irrational Praise of Opera

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Why is it that some forms of entertainment are weighed down with pretension whereas others are devoid of such esteem? I recently went to see a production of the opera Aida and it was a noteworthy performance. The stage was beautifully crafted, the performances, at times, were magnificent and the orchestra impeccable. In short, I was captivated by the performance. However – as often occurs at such events – I was bewildered at the crowd’s almost senseless applause at any opportunity.

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It’s been a while since I’ve posted and this period can only really be described as a creative hiatus. It would be wrong to call it writer’s block because the problem extended far beyond words on a page. It was more of a shutting down of creative thought. It’s curious that periods like effect more than just my writing and creativity. It – at risk of melodrama – corrodes the very sinews of the soul and chips away at my sense of purpose.

Writing and creating are towards the heart of my sense of being, if they are interrupted I feel lost.

Last year, I wrote an article about creating an artwork from chaos. I went to Tenerife’s Carnaval. It’s an event whose Christian origins are, thankfully, lost in a sea of beer, urine and colourful costumes, storming with the beats of Spanish salsa sounds. I arrived – as before – with a blank canvas, paint and colouring markers intent of creating another piece with the help of the masses.

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March 7, 2015 · 9:00 am

The Theatre of Tenerife South

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The buildings stand painted in motley – fair, auburn and white – as the curtain in rises on the Tenerife playset. Large hard-black railings protect them from ‘undesirable’ as the balconies exude pretention towards an apathetic cobalt ocean. The sun – our spotlight – disregards the seasons of the outside world and gleams relentlessly on our would-be players in their affordable ivory towers.

But, we don’t need to look far for the props to show and backstage looms at the edge of every corner. A cockroach scuttles under a buzzered gate and we follow him backstage and peer upwards at the prop houses.

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Technology – The Opiate of the Masses?

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John Lennon lamented that we are kept ‘doped with religion and sex and TV,’ forty-plus years ago. However – it seems like the evolution of everything – our opiate of choice has been strengthened and  purified.  Are we now doped by technology instead?

I am fully aware of the irony of such a statement – given my use of it as a medium of expression. However, it’s difficult to deny the role that it plays in the lives of many. There is innumerable, often scaremongering, but more-often-then-not accurate research into the dangers that the internet poses to the youth of our society. Issues such as bullying, sexual, verbal abuse and so forth have been dealt with extensively elsewhere so I shall overlook them here.

The area that I’m interested in exploring here is how technological advancements have repeatedly evolved past our abilities to comprehend them or develop as a species to keep up, as it were.

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Coins From an Unfulfilled Life

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You cross off another day of life on your calendar thumb-tacked to your grey office cubicle. What’s left? Forty seven days until that next sun holiday? No, those days are gone. You’re nearly there now. Forty down – years that is – and just five more days until you finally get there.

Your retirement home in Tenerife. A nice little villa by the sea. It’s ok, your spine has long since adapted to that office chair and that hip won’t pain in the winter months there. What winter? You’ll be in the sun.

The final soulless hours evaporate and you’re there.

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