Subduing Freedom in Omaha, Nebraska

Neil Gaiman Speech: Make Good Art

Neil Gaiman - Inspirational Commencement Speech at the University of the Arts 2012



This speech is now being published as a book.

Get to Know the Writing of Alby Stone

I've known Alby Stone since the early 80s. I went to his wedding. I was introduced to him by Jim Kimmis, with whom I'd had a writing partnership at one time.

Alby is becoming so successful as a writer now that it's become a bit of kudos to know him. At first his books were non-fiction. Since the 80s Alby has been writing on subjects ranging from archaeology to myth, folklore to cosmology. More recently Alby has written fiction, including several novels.

Some of his earlier books are: "A Splendid Pillar - Images of the Axis Mundi in the Grail Romances", "The Bleeding Lance - Myth, Ritual & The Grail Legend", "Wyrd - Fate and Destiny in North European Paganism","Straight Track, Crooked Road - Leys, Spirit paths and Shamanism". Also these:


Ymir’s Flesh: North European Creation Mythologies
Published by Heart of Albion Press.
ISBN 978 1872 883 458. 1997, A5, 240 pages including index, full-page illustrations by David Taylor, paperback.
£12.95.


Explore Shamanism
Published by Explore Books, an imprint of Heart of Albion Press.
ISBN 978 1872 883 687. 2003.
demy 8vo (215 x 138 mm), 184 + x pages, 2 photographs; 17 line drawings, paperback
£9.95.

And now there's the fiction. Some of his newer books are:

The Hand of Fire

Five years after the events recounted in Secret Songs, historian Jim Glass is happy and contented. Then an old mistake is brought to light, an old enemy returns, and an older threat emerges. Meanwhile, Jim finds out much more about himself than he ever expected. Havensea may be sleepy on the surface but something dark and strange is bubbling away underneath it all. But what is it? How can Jim stop it? And what is the price he must pay?
The Hand of Fire is the final book in the Havensea trilogy.
Kindle Edition £3.18
Paperback £7.99

Secret Songs

Jim Glass is going back to Havensea in rather better shape than when he left and is looking forward to a long spell of peace and quiet. But trouble is stirring again and it isn’t long before his life is turned upside down – in more ways than one. The Havensea weirdness gets weirder, the dead refuse to keep quiet, and a new danger emerges to keep him occupied. Then the threat takes a murderous twist and Jim’s world is shattered.
Secret Songs is the second book in the Havensea trilogy.
Kindle Edition £3.18.
Paperback £7.99

The Forgotten Stars

A controversial book and a disastrous affair have made Jim Glass a public laughing-stock and a figure of hate. Now the disgraced historian wants to get away from his past and the ruins of his career. In a secluded community on Havensea, a little-known island in the Thames Estuary, he thinks he has found peace and quiet in which to lick his wounds and make a fresh start. But history just won’t leave him alone – and the island also seems to have plans for him. Pretty soon Jim finds himself in plenty of trouble and up to his neck in ancient mysteries and modern conspiracy, danger and weirdness. He learns that Havensea’s secrets are not only archaeological, and that some deaths are more permanent than others. Jim also finds out a great deal about himself, including just how far he is prepared to go to protect the things he cares about. Once again there’s a woman involved – but this time it’s different and more than Jim’s reputation is on the line.

 The Forgotten Stars is the first book in the Havensea trilogy.

Kindle Edition £3.18.

Paperback £7.99.

More information on his website. Alby also hosts some short fiction there on his site (including some by me).

Alby Stone's website is at:  http://www.vaingloriouslunacy.com/

Translate this page.

Notice there's a language translation button on the right hand side of this page. Just select from the list to see this page translated into Italian, German, French, Russian, Esperanto or whichever you prefer. Leave me a comment to say whether the translation is good or bad.

请注意本页面的右手边有一个语言翻译按钮。从列表中选择翻译成意大利语，德语，法语，俄语，世界语或任何你喜欢看到这个页面。给我留言，说翻译是否是好还是坏。

Hinweis Es ist eine Sprache, Übersetzung-Taste auf der rechten Seite dieser Seite. Gerade aus der Liste auswählen, um diese Seite in Italienisch, Deutsch, Französisch, Russisch, Esperanto oder was immer Sie bevorzugen übersetzt sehen. Lassen Sie mich einen Kommentar zu sagen, ob die Übersetzung gut oder schlecht ist.

Remarquez, il ya un bouton de traduction de langue sur le côté droit de cette page. Il suffit de sélectionner dans la liste pour voir cette page traduite en italien, allemand, français, russe, espéranto ou celui que vous préférez. Laissez-moi un commentaire pour dire si la traduction est bonne ou mauvaise.

שים לב יש כפתור תרגום בשפה בצד ימין של דף זה. רק לבחור מהרשימה כדי 
לראות את הדף הזה המתורגם לאיטלקיה, גרמנית, צרפתית, רוסית, אספרנטו
או מה שתרצה. תעזוב אותי בתגובה לומר אם התרגום הוא טוב או רע.

Si noti c'è un pulsante traduzione sul lato destro di questa pagina. Basta selezionare dalla lista per vedere questa pagina tradotta in italiano, tedesco, francese, russo, Esperanto o se si preferisce. Lasciatemi un commento per dire se la traduzione è buona o cattiva.

Обратите внимание, есть кнопка перевода с одного языка на правой стороне этой страницы. Просто выберите из списка, чтобы увидеть эту страницу переведены на итальянский, немецкий, французский, русский, эсперанто или как вам будет угодно. Оставьте мне комментарий говорить о том, что перевод хороший или плохой.

Tenga en cuenta que hay un botón de traducción de idiomas en la parte derecha de esta página. Sólo tienes que seleccionar de la lista para ver esta página traducida al italiano, alemán, francés, ruso Esperanto, o lo que usted prefiera. Déjame un comentario para decir si la traducción es buena o mala.

Rimarku ke estas lingvo traduko butonon sur la dekstra flanko de ĉi tiu paĝo. Nur elekti el la listo por vidi ĉi tiun paĝon tradukita al la itala, germana, franca, rusa, Esperanto aŭ ajn vi preferas. Lasu min komenton diri ĉu la traduko estas bona aŭ malbona.

सूचना इस पृष्ठ के दाहिने हाथ की ओर एक भाषा अनुवाद बटन है. इतालवी, जर्मन, फ्रेंच, रूसी एस्पेरान्तो, या जो भी आप चाहें में अनुवाद करने के लिए इस पेज को देखने के लिए सूची से चयन. मुझे एक टिप्पणी छोड़ दो कहना है कि अनुवाद अच्छा है या बुरा है.

تلاحظ هناك زر الترجمة على الجانب الأيمن من هذه الصفحة. ما عليك سوى اختيار من القائمة
لرؤية هذه الصفحة ترجمت إلى الإيطالية والألمانية والفرنسية والاسبرانتو أو الروسية أو أيهما 
تفضل. ترك لي تعليق على ما اذا كانت الترجمة جيدة أو سيئة.

Mauris rutrum enim linguae attendere ad dexteram partem translata est. Iustus lego ex album hoc videre page translatus est in Italian, German, Galli, Russian, Esperanto aut utri malueris. Translationem fiiit utrum bonum an malum sit amet.

Σημειώστε ότι υπάρχει ένα κουμπί μετάφρασης στη δεξιά πλευρά της σελίδας. Απλώς επιλέξτε από τη λίστα για να δείτε αυτή τη σελίδα μεταφραστεί στα ιταλικά, γερμανικά, γαλλικά, ρωσικά, ή οποιαδήποτε Εσπεράντο προτιμάτε. Αφήστε ένα σχόλιο μου να πω αν η μετάφραση είναι καλή ή κακή.

Angalia kuna tafsiri ya lugha button kwenye upande wa kulia wa ukurasa huu. Kuchagua tu kutoka katika orodha ya kuona ukurasa huu kutafsiriwa katika Italia, Ujerumani, Ufaransa, Urusi, au kwa namna yoyote Kiesperanto unapendelea. Uniache maoni kusema kama tafsiri ni mema au mabaya.

Fógra níl an cnaipe aistriúchán teanga ar thaobh na láimhe deise den leathanach seo. Just a roghnú ón liosta a fheiceáil an leathanach seo a aistriú go, Iodáilis, Gearmáinis, Fraincis Rúisis, Esperanto nó cibé acu is fearr leat. Saoire dom a comment a rá cé acu an bhfuil an t-aistriúchán maith nó olc.

Zauważysz przycisk tłumaczeń na prawej stronie tej strony. Wystarczy wybrać z listy, aby zobaczyć tę stronę w języku włoskim, niemieckim, francuskim, rosyjskim, esperanto czy wolisz. Zostaw komentarz do powiedzenia, czy tłumaczenie jest dobre, czy złe.

                  

Doctor Bloody Who

Sick and tired of what the BBC have made out of Doctor Who? I am! I grew up watching Doctor Who in the 1960s. It was an excellent children's programme which also began to have some appeal to grown ups. I watched that show from Episode 1 in 1963 onwards. Doctor Who continued to be excellent throughout the time of the first three actors to play the role. Then I outgrew television and stopped watching somewhere around the time they gave the role to Tom Baker (who played the Doctor too clownishly for my tastes).

In the 1980s a work colleague encouraged me to look at some of the more recent episodes. I was less than impressed. Now, in the 21st Century they've made the whole thing very silly indeed. They're not even doing science fiction any more. They're doing a pastiche of sciencey fictiony tropes wrapped up in a family style romp through derivative adventure yarns.

If you want to see some REALLY GOOD science fiction on TV these days you have to look at Charlie Brooker's "Black Mirror" Series 1 & 2 on Channel Four.

However, if you want to see something BRILLIANT which is based on characters from Doctor Who then look at Mechmaster's "Second Empire" here: http://www.mechmaster.co.uk/cg-lair/daleks/secemp-index.htm

and, of course, the excellent BIG FINISH audio dramas continue to be vastly superior to the BBC TV version. Paul McGann will always be the definitive version of The Doctor because he incorporates elements of all previous regenerations into one. If only the BBC would use his audio adventures as the soundtrack for an animated series on BBC 3 or 4. It could go under the title of "Animated Classic Doctor Who" or something similar.

Sport

I've always hated sport. Sport is designed in such a way as to prevent creativity or freedom. In sport the slightest step outside the rules is an automatic fail. Thus sport trains the mind to stay within arbitrary limitations. Anything interesting or creative such as having a different shape ball or a different number of goalposts is automatically disqualified. Thus sport stifles imagination and freedom. Also, sport is arranged so that there will always be more losers than winners, which trains the mind to accept defeat as standard.

Sport forbids any subversion of the medium itself.

All the greatest artists subvert the medium in which they work. If you hope to succeed in art of any description you've got to know that the subversion of the medium in which you're working is the right way to do it.

Picasso subverts 2-dimensional and 3-dimensional art. Samuel Beckett subverts theatre. James Joyce subverts prose. Stewart Lee subverts comedy. Alan Moore subverts comics. Charlie Brooker subverts television. David Bowie subverts rock music. The key is DO IT - BUT DECONSTRUCT IT AT THE SAME TIME. Know what it is and know what it's not - and go THERE. Don't play for the team. Play for the space between the teams. They have no eyes in teams. Hence no self awareness.

If they ever adopt subversive deconstructionism in sport I might begin to take an interest. Then we might get the choreography of the inherently alien. I'd like to see themed sports such as a football match based around the philosophy of John Stuart Mill. But, as long as sport continues to train the mind into banality, I'll prefer the more transgressive forms.

A Picture Story of My Life - So Far.....

I was born in 1953, in Surrey, England, the 3rd child of 4 and the only son of a Canadian father and an Irish mother. We lived at Belmont, which was then in Surrey and has since become part of London.  The Borough of Sutton and Cheam. We lived in a council prefab. My dad was a boiler stoker at Belmont Hospital.   I went to a little village primary school and then to secondary school in Cheam. I was treated like a little genius by the teachers in the former and like a little moron by the teachers in the latter. The combined effect of this was similar to tempering steel, where the steel is heated until it glows and is then plunged into a cold water bath. The steel thus becomes toughened.

I was a Sunday school boy. My parents weren't religious, in fact they weren't married to each other, but I took to religion with tremendous enthusiasm and became one of those oddly monklike children who always says their prayers to Jesus and will not ever tell a lie. I stayed like that for many years, only gradually deteriorating into a normal grown up human with an average amount of dishonesty.

At 15 I left school and went to work for Rupert Murdoch's "News Ltd. of Australia" in Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, London.

At 18 I left and did a bit of travelling around England. 

At 19 I went to the town of Glastonbury in Somerset to experience the "spiritual atmosphere" the place was supposed to have.
There I met Wendy, who became my first ever girlfriend and first ever utterly miserable relationship. I also met Jim Kimmis, a lad from Southend-on-Sea, Essex with whom I formed a writing partnership which lasted for 2 years until I was hypnotised and brainwashed into a homophobic pseudo-religious cult called "The Emin Society". Ironically, the book Jim and I had been writing was a new age adventure in which the dynamic tension was provided by an evil Svengaliesque character who runs an apocalyptic pseudo-religious cult. Jim and I put ourselves into the story as comic relief characters, clown foils to the real heroes. Reality, unfortunately, imitated art and I was inducted into the same sort of cult thing as we'd imagined. I never thought it could happen to me.

During those years they brainwashed us with "healing through the aura", "world history through the meaning of colours", "getting an actual, physical, third eye to appear through your forehead" (!), and other rubbish which no-one would ever believe without hypnosis. I began to wake up from my trance state as various cracks appeared in the brainwashing. I began doing volunteer work digging gardens for old people because my childhood Christianity was coming through and I wanted to "do good works in the world" even though an Emin leader advised me "not to worry about things like that".

After six and a half years of being brainwashed with homophobia and all manner of weird ideas I managed to get away from the Emin and I then became worried that they may have placed some sort of hypnotic trigger in my subconscious mind, something designed to cause me to re-enlist in their cult. To prevent any such trigger from activating within me I determined that my best course of action was to do a protest march up and down outside their Putney base and thus become persona non grata to them. I made a placard which said "EMIN UNFAIR TO SEARCHERS". They would recognise the term "Searcher" which they use as their Tarot card number 9 instead of the more usual "Hermit" card. After a few days of peaceful protest, walking back and forth outside their centre, the so-called "Mixing Chamber" at Putney, they called the police. Two policewomen arrived and informed me that although, yes, I did have the right to protest, they nevertheless felt that my protest might cause someone from the Emin to come out and attack me and so, regrettably, they must ask me to go away or be arrested. That's how they get round the tricky issue of civil rights under British law. Ha! 

Anyway, I felt that I had accomplished my purpose, i.e: made myself persona non grata and thus, free from any hypnotic triggers the Emin may have put into my mind. So I breathed a sigh of relief and set about trying to reconstruct my life after 6 and a half years of the most stupid theories and ideas any cult has ever come up with.

I had been under their control from early 1974, when I hadn't even reached my 21st birthday yet, until late in 1980, when I was 27.

During the 80s for several years I worked for a Glastonbury, Somerset based charity called "Children's World" which was the brainchild of Arabella Churchill, granddaughter of Winston Churchill.   We created interactive drama sessions for children with learning disabilities in Somerset and Avon (Avon used to be an English county in those days). I also worked for Mendip District Council Social Services as an unpaid volunteer in my spare time working with adults who had learning disabilities and with children in a playgroup.

In those days I lived in a flat overlooking Glastonbury High Street, number 7a, upstairs from the "Gothic Image" shop. One time, in the mid-1980s Princess Diana came to Glastonbury to open a group of arts & crafts workspaces.  As her motorcade was coming down the High Street I borrowed a record player with big speakers and arranged it in a bay window on the first floor, then I put on the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen" at maximum volume and unfurled a large white bedsheet from the window. The bedsheet was inscribed with the words "Ban Foxhunting!" As Princess Diana's car passed she turned her head to see where the loud irreverent music was coming from, and thus the bedsheet was able to deliver its message.

Living in Glastonbury I used to get continually beaten up by drug dealers because I refused their mind-warping products.

I've always been a bit arrogant about stuff like that. 

In early 1987 there was a murder in the flat next door to me. I was in a room on the second floor of the building, above Gothic Image and next door to the Glastonbury Tribunal. The room next door to mine was occupied by a couple, Steve and Tabby, who were into horror comics and heavy metal bands and took lots of drugs. They would sometimes have violent fights. One time after they'd been fighting I saw they'd dropped a large knife on the stairs. That was a prelude to the next big fight they had when Steve killed Tabby.

The first I knew about it was the following morning when I was down in the kitchen on the first floor, making a cup of tea for my breakfast. It was a Sunday morning and Steve came downstairs while I was making tea and said he had something "heavy" to tell me. I could tell from his expression that it was serious.

I made an extra cup of tea for him and we went upstairs to my room. He explained that he had woken up, thinking it had all been a nightmare, and had then realised that it was true and that he had actually murdered his girlfriend. He asked me to call the police.

Well, we didn't have a telephone in the building and no-one had a mobile cellphone (they existed in the 80s but were rare) so I walked with him to Glastonbury police station which, in those days, was in Benedict Street. When we got there the police station turned out to be closed on Sundays and there was only an emergency telephone on the front of the building. The phone got us through to the nearest active police station, which was in the nearby city of Wells.

After a short wait a police car came from Wells and Steve was taken into custody while I went with two of the policemen up to the flats to show them which flat was Steve and Tabby's. Then one of the policemen went into the room while I waited outside with the other man.

The first policeman emerged from the room nodding and telling us "Yes, there is a dead body there".

I compare these times with my first experiences of Glastonbury town. I went to the town of Glastonbury first in 1972. I was attracted there by the old legends of the place, stories of early Christianity, of Celtic paganism and of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. However, then some idiot decided to hold a festival a few miles away at a little village called Pilton and call the festival after the famous Glastonbury. Since then the area was turned into a haven for drug dealers and the result was increasing violence.

I moved away from the area, distressed that the place which had once symbolised the new age of enlightenment had instead become a place of drug dealing and murder.

Perhaps it's the curse of King Arthur. Swords and dark doings. Perhaps I was naive not to think of that aspect before. Still, at least I did some good work during those years, with Children's World and with Social Services.

Next, I went off to London and studied drama and movement therapy, Rudolf Laban, Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud, Jean Piaget, Erik Erikson and myths, legends and fairy tales.

Then, having failed to become a drama therapist, I went to work in an animal sanctuary for a few years. Still following my religious idea of "doing good works" - which I like to call "Dharma-Mitzvah".

At the end of the 1980s I did the Mensa Intelligence Quotient test and found I had an I.Q. of 160, higher than 90% of the population.  This result gave me the confidence I needed to begin studying towards getting a university degree.

Eventually I went to university as a mature student in the 1990s and got a good fine art honours degree.

During those years I was not only an art student but also a hunt saboteur, an environmental activist and a part-time cleaner. I was pretty exhausted most of the time.

After graduation I worked in a cyber-cafe (an important trend in the late 1990s). Gradually I began to make art for the internet. Which leads to here, and the links on this blog.