Church of stating the bleedin' obvious (slight return)

[hirez]

Once again, the generally splendid kixie goads me into thinking about (dead) cities, or cities in dust if you've that type of mindset.

To save time, I'll just link to the places where I've banged on most about why I'm not in London anymore. It'll also maybe deflect the (entirely justified, though I think someone else will need to point out that particular drawing-room elephant since I can't make sense of it) accusations that I'm protesting rather too much.

Originally, I was going to take issue with Johnson's standard soundbite about the place, call him a pompous twit and spiral outwards from there toward Joy of Scrap, starry nights and joy of not finding someone else's lager and kebab vom on your doorstep of a Sunday AM. However, in context it makes a lot more sense.

It's true. Anyone with more than half a brain needs some flavour of cultural life in order not to go quite mad. Though I've not been (un)fortunate enough to meet anyone who's asked me, in the manner made famous by the godlike genius BIll Hicks, 'Why are you reading?', the following certainly did transpire...

... I'd been moved into Humblebee about a month and, as was my wont, had come home with the NME one day, Loaded (look, it was the mid 90s. I was being ironic) the next and some random computer book the day after. One of the other occupants opined that 'You read a lot, H-R...'

Anyway. Culture. I've got my definition of the set of things I need in order not to become dull and uninteresting company, y'all have got yours. Good? Good.

The problem I have with cities is that they can only work if the occupants co-operate. The rat-thing, is a good for-instance. A percentage of the extra wonga I'd make by working in A City goes off to the nice people who keep the wheels of the infrastructure turning. Someone's got to cart away the detritus because I'm not allowed or am in no position to deal with it myself. Out in the back of beyond, one's allowed to deal with vermin using terriers, ferrets, poison, traps, shotguns, rifles, half-bricks, beer bottles and low-yield fission weapons. Since those sorts of toys are frowned upon in built-up areas, it's up to the council to earn their tithe and send round A Chap to deal with the infestation. It's certainly Not On for the bugger to pitch up, tell me that Mutant Tube Rats are a health hazard and that I'd be fined for keeping them.

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[steer.livejournal.com]

From one of the above quotes

A man cannot know modes of life as well in Minorca as in London; but he may study mathematicks as well in Minorca.

The rather intelligent pioneer of Dynamical Systems, Smale was forever seeking grants to go study mathematics in Capri. The funding council questioned the necessity of this expense but he explained that he was simply better at thinking about mathematics in Capri. He was talented enough that they accepted this explanation.