The trouble is, you think you have time

Global Warming

What would you do if you were told you only had fourteen years to live? It’s not cancer. It’s far worse than that. Floods haven’t been on the news recently but they aren’t going away and according to scientist James Lovelock climate change is going to unleash environmental devastation, and by 2040 southern Europe will be a desert.

With global populations continuing to rise and third world countries developing a taste for red meat, the average British millenial is in a race to the bottom. And if James Lovelock is correct you should party like its £19.99 because you don’t have long left.

“Enjoy life while you can. Because if you’re lucky it’s going to be 20 years before it hits the fan.”

– James Lovelock, March 2008

James Lovelock is convinced climate change is inevitable and ethical living a scam. Recycling, wind turbines, planting nice trees – it’s a complete waste of time, the damage is already done and paying 10p for a shopping bag at Sainsbury’s won’t make a difference.

Ethical living is akin to a smoker quitting on his deathbed, it might make you feel better, but that’s all it will do. If recycling pizza leaflets and beer bottles won’t save the planet, then what exactly can we do? Start paying 35p for the plastic bags we stuff underneath the sink? Grow carrots and potatoes in our back gardens and eat less meat?

Wait, statistically you live in an urbanised sprawl and don’t have a garden or any sustainable land. Your everyday survival is entirely reliant on the mass importation of food into corporate supermarkets.

Burgerthons

As a species, we are tribal carnivores genetically programmed to eat everything we can. A risky gambit if you live on a small island that imports 40% of its consumed food. If Lovelock is correct and global catastrophe is only 16 years away then enjoy your burgerthon festivals and 2-for-1 pizzas while you still can. You can’t feed yourself on Twitter.

In that respect Generation Y doesn’t have much to live for and we’re the lucky ones. It’s your kids and unborn progeny, who are really going to suffer. Generation Z is fittingly apt because according to Lovelock “about 80%” of the world’s population will be wiped out by 2100.

The Trouble Is, You Think You Have Time

If Lovelock is correct then you don’t have long left before pale blue dot metamorphoses into a dead planet. If you fancy a career break backpacking around South America, then enjoy the precious time you have left, or hope he’s an elderly scientist with nothing to lose.

If you stay at home and do nothing else, then savour every gourmet burger you eat and pay virtually nothing for the privilege. Generation Z are going to pay that dividend for you.

Cherchez la femme

“Their only crime was being young, arrogant, and beautiful.”

Patti Smith

Pussy Riot are the most perfect rock band in history. Even the Sex Pistols in their 77′ prime never looked this fucking good. Formed last year in response to Vladmir Putin’s third (and ultimately successful) presidential run, Pussy Riot are creating a pop experience that goes far beyond mere aural sensation.

Back in February 2012, the Russian feminist punk collective performed a ‘punk prayer’ against Putin inside Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Saviour wearing multi-coloured balaclavas. Rallying against “evil crooks of the Putinist junta”, Nadezhda Tolokonnikova, 22, Maria Alekhina, 24, and Yekaterina Samutsevich, 29, now face seven year jail terms for hooliganism motivated by religious hatred or hostility.

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova is extraordinarily pretty and I want to sleep with her for all the wrong reasons. With Pussy Riot facing up to seven years in jail for singing in a church, having a crush on one of the accused seems completely inappropriate. It feels glib and trivial to fancy someone so unbelievably brave and intelligent.

Fortunately lust and intellectual admiration have never been mutually exclusive and sapiosexuals will appreciate that Pussy Riot have created a parallel universe that goes way beyond sonic thrills.

On being locked up like princesses in a cage, the Pussy Riot collective inevitably stoke up references to the Situationist International 68’. But unlike the liberal havens of Western Europe, modern Russia is a frighteningly oppressive regime and this Stalinist show trial only serves to remind people how many journalists in Russia have gone missing in the last twelve years.

And for all the talk of revolutionary politics and feminism, I find myself deeply conflicted by the case. As while I genuinely admire their intellect and courage, they are utterly, utterly brilliant, I feel ashamed that I have become infatuated by Nadia’s physical beauty.

However, I have to consider that many of the world’s greatest political movements were served by having a striking and iconic figurehead. Pussy Riot are all about symbolism in many respects – the glamour quotient of the Anonymous  hacker movement.

Pussy Riot have achieved their goals of becoming famous and their profile in Britain exploded after this brilliant article by Carole Cadwalladr, which is journalism worth paying for but you can read it here for free.

Pussy Riot are not individuals, they’re an idea. And that’s the thing that has gripped Russia and caught the attention of the rest of the world, too: that the Russian government has gone and arrested an idea and is prosecuting through the courts with a vindictiveness the Russian people haven’t before seen.

The Russian feminists really are a wonderful reminder that if you want to inspire change then you have to capture the imagination of the soul. Listening to their punk demo records, it becomes pretty apparently that you don’t want Pussy Riot to serenade you. They can’t play to save themselves. But glamour on this level is not necessarily a superficial thing. Pussy Riot are an idea and you can’t arrest an idea – not one that has been transmitted across the globe.

In stark contrast to what is going on in Putin’s Russia, political protest has been largely tolerated in Britain during the last sixty years. The Pussy Riot girls would be ironic clothes horses in this wet green island, casually appearing on faux-rebellious street art in Shoreditch High Street. In Russia they have become the only band that matters. Pussy Riot live dangerously so you don’t have to.

Up in the Air

On writing from a rented box in the sky, I find myself staring out towards a concrete forest of tower blocks, cranes and scaffolding. With the average price of a room in London costing up to £150 a week, I like many others have found myself lured by the promise of cheaper rents in the east.

Having spent my first six months in the capital living in genteel Chiswick, I felt bound by the invisible hand when I moved to East London. Unless you have a professional job or enjoy the luxury of being subsidised by your family, the cost of housing in the capital is increasingly unaffordable. Where the majority of people now have to enter the Gumtree lottery and throw a huge portion of their income on mediocre accommodation.

After tiring of coming up for air in West London, I decided to abandon suburbia and make a radical lifestyle change in late 2007. On moving to Whitechapel in search of affordable housing, I can recall my first evening exploring the Victorian side streets and becoming acquainted with inner city life.

Whitechapel is physically unattractive and only really comes into life in black light, where it becomes a true urban menace with sirens, graffiti and encroaching cranes. There are skinhead cockney geezers sitting on broken bar stools and outside you will discover complete freaks walking past you like an abandoned crisp packet. When I refer to ‘freaks’ I don’t mean alternative middle-class people in ‘controversial’ attire.These freaks are complete fucking weirdos, who grunt aggressive noises and there was one in particular that made me want to court an instant metallic death just to avoid making eye-contact.

Whitechapel is an extremely vibrant place and ugliness is always like to have a seductive tonic. After making eyes with the barmaid the other night I almost dropped my glass in shock. It only lasted a few seconds but it just goes to show how rewarding life can be when you unearth a flower in the dustbin.

Undeniably raw, angry and glittering underneath the Gerkin, I found myself estranged in this new world order. Like those before me, I came in search of affordable accommodation and while initially I felt out of place in Whitechapel. Economic chains do ultimately bind us all and like the Bengali men selling fruit and vegetables in plastic tents, I came across another demographic earning a living on the floor.

Whitechapel regularly hosts walking tours for middle class tourists wanting to discover more about Jack the Ripper’s murder spree in the late 19th century. Although why a misogynistic killer has now become a form of street entertainment for middle-class tourists is a fascinating one. At the end of this century will Rothbury become a tourist attraction for huddled groups wanting to discover more about a sadistic Huck Finn with a sawn off shotgun?

As the Gerkin continues to shine in face of violent cuts in public spending, I find the housing situation in London virtually unbearable. With modern advancements in technology, I feel very frustrated that employees must continue to live within commuting distance of the workplace. If people could work at home on the internet like so much of our social and daily lives. Then no longer would people have to pay ridiculously high rents for rooms in squalid locations.

While you may still find yourself paying £150 a week for a double room it would no longer have to be confined to Central London. Rents in places such as Whitechapel would be able to drop down and greater diversity would be spread across the regions. If only this practice were in place now I could be writing high up in sky overlooking the Mediterranean. Something only mercenary landlords and tube station muggers could take issue with.

Pictures by kind permission of Louis Berk from his book “Walk to Work: from the City to Whitechapel”.