War, Money, Music, Friendship

More than a thousand people in the town square, congregating to spend two minutes in silence. In the middle, 30 members of The Stop The War Coalition, joining in the official national silence, then adding half an hour of restrained speeches to support it.

Paul T was teaching in the language school at the time, and all classes had been instructed by management to join in the silence. Some of the students asked: If 54 people merit two minutes, how many hours would it take for 100,000 Iraqis?

In the square, most of the public dispersed, but about 10 wandered over to hear what was being said. All very restrained, respectful, and barely political. We were all nervous about the public response, but there weren't even any hecklers. Surprised relief all round.

I chatted afterwards to one of the people who'd join us. He was an ex-labour party member from Surrey, on a day trip and in the square by chance. He left Labour when the US and UK invaded Kuwait after Iraq had done the same thing, reasoning that Iraq had a better claim to Kuwait than the US. I suggested that Kuwait ought to belong to the people of Kuwait, and he became vague.
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I signed on afterwards. The jobcentre had a sign up saying anyone not wearing a shirt would not be seen. I asked Pauline (my 'jobsearch adviser') about it - she and her collegues thought it was idiotic too. She's trying to persuade me I should become an accountant - which seems a rather leftfield suggestion.
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Recording session with Paul T. Not much achieved - this second EP has already taken twice as long as the first. He's got other things on his mind - a suicidally depressed grandmother, no money, and the prospect of losing his home.

Thinking about our respective problems: My parents want me out, he needs someone to help take care of his grandmother so he can still work, I could use a nice place to live the allows me to record music, he could use a lodger renting cheap.

The only questions are: Could he live in proximity to me without going stark staring bonkers, and could I live in his home without going the same way?

It's not something to be rushed into.
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Next day, I met H for lunch, and spent the afternoon arguing with him. About having respect for petty rules (he does, I don't), the role of religion in creating beliefs (he says it has one, I say religion is always post hoc justification), and the biological basis of cultural customs (he follows Dawkins, I follow Gould).

He said he likes talking to me, because it means for once he's not the most cynical person in the room. Humph!

If I let myself love him, and anyone asked me why, the answer would be easy. He can justify his opinions, isn't threatened by someone questioning them, and he actually listens.

Nevermind sex, if you can spend 5 hours disagreeing on ethical philosophy and hug with no ill feelings, you've found someone special.
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I've been out in the hot sun for most of the last two days. Normally, if anyone said I was redder than an overripe tomato, I'd assume it was a political comment. Now, it would be dermatological.