Non Serviam

Non serviam, is a Latin phrase, spoken to God by the Devil whilst he was still an angel. It translates to “I will not serve” and displays the largest two fingered salute in the history of mankind. It’s saying it’s better to reign in Hell than it is to serve in Heaven.

Now. I don’t find it in any way at all to liken my current relationship with my language seminar closet, to that of the Devil and God in any way inappropriate. In fact, it’s entirely appropriate. English literature is a many wonderful thing. It soars and flies high above us, occasionally picking us up above all that are below, letting us live and see and feel things which we’d never thought possible before. However the study of language would declare this to be merely a consequence of convention and syntax. It angers me. It deeply offends me. I find the notion disguising. To pass of the fragility of Joyce or ferocity of Greene as merely being circumstance of a pre set out word set makes me want to rant endlessly at this closed minded little man.

Language seemingly accepts no answer but its own; that its idea is the only conceivable true path. I chose to stick to my books, hold my writers closely. I shan’t analyse them too closely though, they’re like rainbows, you get too close and they disappear and you’ll never see them the same way again.

So to you, Language studies. I say “non serviam.”

Listening to Patrick Watson. It’s like throwing together Jeff Buckley, St Peppers Beatles and the good parts of Rufus Wainwright. Sounds better than that alludes to.

Good day to you.

Me.

Whatever.

Stay shining tiny dancer.

Today I found out one of my greatest animal friends I’ve ever had been hit by a car. Hit and run. Bastards. It’s the worst way to lose a cat, I lost my little kitten ‘Tink’ the same way and you just feel as if they’ve been cheated in the worst way possible.

But here’s to Izzy, he won’t get an obituary in The Guardian, so this’ll be as good as it gets.

Izzy Mark Marshall was born at some point in 2004 to a litter of fantastically fluffy black and white kittens Izzy set high standards in personal preening from a young age, always priding himself on his amazingly straight tail and particularly jooshy bit behind his ears. The look was born. Izzy had his style sorted, it was time to find someone who he could moosh off and live for free with. He chose a mister Scott Marshall.

Izzy was a travelling cat, priding himself on the fact he’d lived in 3 cities (London, Wolverhampton and the cultural hub of Coventry). And it was this experience as a wonderer which stood him in such good stead when it came to forging friendships and allegiances. Personally I met Izzy around a year and a half ago, he’d just arrived from Coventry and had the attitude to match but he soon won me over with his massive panda face and little teddy bear like fluff.

Izzy and I became best friends over the last year, he’d always listen to me whenever I was a little bit down, and he never turned down a good hug offer when one was going. He also loved having his picture taken as often as possible and wearing coats when it got cold in the winter.

So here’s to you Izzy; stay chasing those mice up in cat heaven you beautiful dreamer.

Izzy 2004-2007