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Posted By jonnyP

Fear and Shopping in Watton;


Andy Smith the bands resident graphic artist and video maker sent me this message the other day. His wife Anne who’s an animator/artist has a chronic lung condition, so we won’t be sharing jokes for awhile. Check out Andy’s work on our website and send messages of love via this blog or the You tube feedback.. Love to you all Jonny.


Hi John


Glad to hear you're both ok.  And thanks, Survivors did spring to mind but I couldn't remember what it was called.  It does feel like we've slipped into a b&w 70s docu-drama - either that or some kind of Biblical coda.  I think the weirdest thing is that having become accustomed to consuming news at arms length, through a screen or print, suddenly it's outside everybody's fucking front door.  Except of course that you can't see it (no matter how many Instagram filters you use).


Was in a dilemma last week, whether to give up the job and risk the DWP withdrawing support for having made myself unemployed.  As it turns out, the question has been answered for me, and as my boss has been good enough to include me on the payroll, it looks like I'll be eligible for the 80% handout.  Ty BJ.  Just wait until the bill lands for that one a few months down the line.


Yes, really worried about passing the virus on to Annie.  Even if one's lucky enough to bag a delivery slot, there's not a lot available online.  So on a real world, practical level, there's little alternative except to make an occasional foray into Watton on the off-chance that Tesco might have some food for sale.  But man, it's scary.


On the positive side, at least there's the opportunity to get productive, and the time to work up some personal project or other, a rare luxury.


Really, take care of yourselves

Andy & Anne

Posted By jonnyP

Sunday March 22nd 2020


Keep your distance


This is our tenth day of this weirdness, A sense of urgency, currents of stress as priorities turn upside down. My shed neatly stacked with my music gear, props and merchandise, the ingredients for gigs, festivals, party’s and workshops. I wonder will the stuff find use again. I write these posts for the Bands blog. A band with a half finished Album and a new extreme limitation.


This was coming like Christmas, yet who’d have thought it when living it’s reality. Socially awkward has a new expression as we negotiate ‘distance’. Everything is touched, our utterances spray fine droplets in the air. The Virus even hangs onto hair, so the scissors are coming next.


In 1623 the Scientist philosopher Francis Bacon in De Augments Scientiarum wrote. “For you have but to follow and as it were hound nature in her wanderings… neither ought man to make scruple of entering and penetrating into these holes and corners, when the inquisition of truth is his sole object”.


Well that went well! Seems we took him at his word and “entered” and “penetrated” every hole and corner of this dear earth releasing a cascade of ill’s…


Rob Wallace writes on Ebola “Commoditizing the forest may have lowered the region’s ecosystemic threshold to such a point that no emergency intervention can drive the Ebola outbreak low enough to burn out. Novel spillovers suddenly express larger forces of infection. On the other end of the epicurve, a mature outbreak continues to circulate, with the potential to intermittently rebound.

In short, neoliberalism’s structural shifts are no mere background on which the emergency of Ebola takes place. The shifts are the emergency as much as the virus itself… Deforestation and intensive agriculture may strip out traditional agroforestry’s stochastic friction, which typically keeps the virus from lining up enough transmission.”


If I dare to translate. By clear felling, stripping“enter” and “penetrating” an ecosystem that has been in dynamic equilibrium for thousands of years. And setting in place a ranch,pig farm, palm oil or soya agro industrial installation. Multiple pathways for exotic bacteria and pathogens are released an able to mingle and cross species. It’s like opening the box and smashing the lid. At to that the exotic meat fad to spice up our jaded barbecues, we’ve cooked up a recipe for disaster (capitalism).


Our fossil fuelled arrogance forgot that actions have consequences. Our native relationship to that which sustains us betrayed. The horticultural hunter gatherer traded in the Earths and all beings equilibrium, so a few folk can sit in gold towers and dazzle us as we dine on an uneven share of the scraps. setting us not only against nature but also each other. In so doing we substantiated a delusional narrative of me with ideology, identity and money. Our broken hearts create shadows of anguish in our unconscious.


Now we are in lockdown with ourselves and each other, while biological will topples our sense of omnipotence. Invoking “the Dunkirk Spirit” (wasn’t that a massacre and retreat?), “take it on the chin” “We can beat this together” draws on the failed ideas that got us here. In following Francis Bacon’s word we repeatedly threw the baby out with the bath water.


I wonder what wisdom is left in our herd memory that can nurture an ecology of love and reciprocity out of the virus infested corpse of greed and domination?