Going, Going, by Philip Larkin

The Poetry Room

Larkin wrote this poem in 1972. How much more evocative is it today?

The title ‘Going, Going’ is the key to the whole poem. In Larkin’s view, what is ‘going’ is the landscape of England as a green and pleasant land. It is being replaced by shoddy development, summed up by the auctioneer’s excited cry of ‘going, going’ as another piece of the old heritage falls under the hammer. Going, going, but not yet quite gone. Larkin once thought it would ‘last his time’. Now he doubts that.

The poem has a disarmingly conversational tone, which belies the bleakness of what Larkin is saying. This tone is partly contrived by the rhyming pattern of each six line stanza: A B C A B C, which makes for a more open quality than couplets, for example, would have done. Right from the start he has a disillusioned air about the future…

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So I was thinking… Debate 1

Yeah so a potential idea for this blog was to ask questions and in the comments section of the post, discuss thoughts and opinions…. a debate.

So I ask the question;

Should governments around the world be turning to greener and more renewable energy resources such as wind, solar, tidal and wave power? Or to keep sustainable economic growth, should we continue with ‘business as usual’ with fossil fuels?

What about nuclear power?

Many countries over the world are tied into reducing their greenhouse gas emissions, yet only a number are making an effort.

Is there any point in trying to turn to greener energy? Or seeing as the ‘tipping point’ may have been passed already, does humanity begin to prepare and adapt for the inevitable consequences of global warming?

Renewable or ‘business as usual’? Mitigate or adapt?

“I’ve been drinking and it’s half one out here. Shut the fuck up.”

Sand. Sex. The summer geography project I haven’t got round to doing.

These se were the main things on my mind laying on a Spanish beach today just outside of Marbella. 

 

Sand is a dick. It gets everywhere you don’t want it to.

 

EVERYWHERE.

 

Like I don’t even like sand, why can’t I just come out of yeh sea and not get all fucking sandy is that seriously too much to ask for? 

 

Sex. What teenage kid doesn’t think about this? God, I need to admit to myself what I need and I need to satisfy these needs now. Things are gonna change this year, I can’t hope  to figure shit out by not participating, I need stuff…thaaaaangs.

 

Geography summer project…

 

Fuck.

 

Yes, I’ve been drinking, Cormac, and it’s half fucking one. So please, shut the fuck up on Skype.

 

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Story Time: Untitled (Work-In-Progress)

I’ve been working on some stories for fun because if you can’t say it then write, this is the first part of the story.

There she stands; immortalised. At the centre of our impossible universe, stands such beauty and prose. One with form beyond comprehension and spiritual belief, many would say she was, in turn, an entity above. God on Earth. And there was I, swallowed by the pumped leather chair and clamped by the effects of untainted alcohol and bad decisions.

The star in the sky sunk into the cold ground as the informal gathering proceeded into the night. The terraced house that belonged to owner A was transformed into a forum, a nightclub and a church – all working together to satisfy all. Many guests, like me, have stumbled into this place by the electro-wildfire that is more popularly recognised as the Internet. And thank above for this night, for my mind turns, tumbles into disparity, into death, one second, counting down, till the clock hits zero and all will be done – I will be the food for my children. Yet the night persists and I have a bottle of ‘enter-here’ chilled beer. I need to move and find other focus.

For the many months before, I have expectantly created new thoughts – ones my young mind should never think, for they make me wonder beyond comprehension, into eternal nothingness as I depart this world and fertilize this earth as a ‘thank you’ card for the existing part of life. Before, I was a merry fellow with hope and aspirations to capture this life in a single frame; art. Art is a conversation from one person to another yet every time it’s different for everyone. This entices me.

I’m in the house, in the garden, in the leather chair that is bolted to the oak flooring of this ‘den’.  And she walked in…

Note: I’m trying to find a style that I like, so that’s why the pacing is weird. I’m looking at James Joyce, Chuck Palahniuk and Samuel Beckett with some Bronte in there.

The shocking reality. (Not so shocking)

Parties are almost always lose-lose situations. They suck.

This isn’t a general statement that applies everywhere and all the time, but it our current situation, it really fucking makes sense.

Somebody always has to clean up your fucking mess because you’re too much of a cunt to do it yourself, things get broken, relationships get broken because of stupid little quarrels over the opposite sex, so pointless because you probably won’t see said person again. Meanwhile i’ll be witnessing all these shitty little arguments thinking ‘what the fuck are you doing’, i’ll take a side when it’s needed, nobody has the right to be an absolute asshole to anyone, if you think you can then you’re broken somewhere up there.

Don’t all sit on the swinging ben- too late. That’s broken.

Do you remember that rule, bring your own drink? good luck kid, you’re not 18 yet. Enjoy your night sober, sit there and watch everyone else buzzing around the speaker dancing to house music while all you can think about is sleeping somewhere quieter. 4AM is round the corner and so are you as you push the bed away enough to make just enough space to curl up in to the shape of a Tetris block and drown yourself in small pillows.

Yes, I went to a shit party. Some of the people who were nicest to me last night were people I wouldn’t consider my ‘close friends’ and my real close friends didn’t seem so near last night. It’s not their fault and it’s not mine, it’s just not nice.

Hopefully the next one’ll be a good one. Until then, i’m going to attend a family Barbecue where my friend will be with my cousin, because y’know, somehow they’re dating…

Ew.

“The siren call of the blowjob renders all men powerless. That’s how girls trick ya into marryin’ them!”

Never a truer statement.

Well the first part, anyway.

So this summer has half been about experiencing shit, catching up with new and old friends alike and trying to find myself.

“That is about the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.” Yep, Nathan Young, you’re right.

Trying to find ‘who you are’ is one of the most stupid things I ever thought of attempting. Why should I, or we find ourselves? It isn’t our purpose, not our objective, or vocation.

Instead of bending the knee(s) *hue* to society’s expectations, why can’t I simply get on with my life without giving a fuck about who I am, who I will be, and just enjoy my seemingly ignorant-stupor, my desire to learn, and my complete confused-as-shit head and trust it to do as it will?

Something happened today which I didn’t expect to. Nobody knows what happened. What I did.

But it was incredible. Something I hadn’t experienced in nearing on a year and a half.

It’s one of those rare moments where you question yourself whether you do tell your closest friends, and realise that is surprisingly more satisfactory to remain in tranquil privacy, remaining mute. 

Finding who I am? Fuck off, I’m quite happy with myself at the moment. Experiences like today prove there is still opportunities to get, or become what I want to. There is always a chance, somewhere, no matter what anybody else says.NATHANYOUNG

“We fucked up, bigger and better than any generation that came before us!”

Three fitting Nathan Young quotes, ffs how right can a cynical, sarcastic, quite optimistic arsehole actually be?

Always, is the answer.

Here I am.

Okay kids. This is how it goes down.

Username – Archie is my name. Salt is the first half of my surname. Simple right? Yes it is.

I’ll probably use this to share learned life lessons, reviews about Film, Television and Games. For example. Boyhood – haven’t seen it, want to see it. don’t spoil it please. Next up, Rick and Morty. NICE. An amazing cartoon aired on Adult Swim which is obviously based loosely off Back to the Future, but who the fuck cares when it’s hilarious, deep and original. Finally, Shovel Knight is my 8 bit bae, he cheats on Shield Knight for me because we’re madly in love and his shovel digs really deep, OOOOOOH THE MUSIC, Jake Kaufman you genius.

Redface

Listen to this, it’s good.

Existentialism & Cheese

Life’s too short.

A strange statement that can be argued or agreed upon, yet we must consider this seriously. As I browse the vast world of the internet, listening to childhood RnB songs and eating a cheese sandwich, I have an unwelcoming revelation; I will die. Shit. 

Not that I’m going to die straightaway, I mean ‘Geez, keep the coffin in the closet’. I mean that at some point in our lives, the survival rate drops to zero (thanks, Fight Club). Which is true, but I can’t ravel my head around the concept. Others might say ‘But you got God, y’all be fine’ – however in recent times, I lost my religious touch, one day I’m off to church, the next I break all the commandments. Even if I class myself as a Catholic, it doesn’t make this situation any easier. This little moment has made me look back at what I’ve done in these couple of decades, some moments weren’t pretty and some were the greatest times.

Though, most of my achievements and enjoyment has been in the last two years, I worked hard, I actually got fit (not healthy) and I became more sociable – I’ve been so happy.

But, that stop tonight. Maybe it’s the fear of going back to college knowing it’s gonna be the hardest year of my life. It’s also gonna be the hectic year of my life. On the other hand, it’s gonna be the most life-changing experience of a year because of loads of things; prom, parties, holidays, date nights, nights out, night drives, driving lessons, school lessons, life lessons, love, hate, peace and war (not really). So, this is where I leave this post – I realize that all I needed to do was talk and the feeling is gone.

For anyone else feeling crap, look back then forward – death is only the last page, you have to write the rest of the story.

Big C, out.