The Album Review Club - Week #147 - (page 1942) - Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan

I'm originally from Mostonsk but grew up in Chorltonau

Haha there's a good game in that. Sadly it doesn't work for me, most Irish placenames are anglicisations anyway, I suppose I could have a go at reverse engineering Wytheshawe but even then Irish phonology isn't consistent like (I think?) Scottish Gaelic broadly is.

Using your system however, I do know someone who is from Port Au Benchill.
 
Loads of evidence that happiness is not a function of the amount of stuff you have but your appreciation of what you do have. Completely agree re community, I feel we've lost it more quickly than many of our peer.countries.

It's quite interesting to be 'the other'. I've been in a few situations where I've been the only white person amongst crowds of hundreds and in at least one instance thousands, including the let me pinch you or please hold my baby so I can get a picture type of situation! (should have charged I'd have made a mint as once you foolishly do it for one person loads of people appear out of nowhere with more babies lol) It's interesting though that the only times I've ever been personally attacked either physically or verbally for my identity has been by other white people who either didn't like my politics or the faith I practiced. In contexts where you are prepared for it and expect it that's sort of ok, but I was once caught off guard by what was only verbal but quite nasty bigotry in supposedly progressive Sweden and it gave me the tiniest insight into what it must be like to be hated simply for who you are and it's stuck with me over the years.
Id love to hear more about your experiences as a minority. Im often a minority both ethically and by gender but I wonder if it's different as the majority of those situations are temporary.

And at the risk of sounding like one of those guys again sometimes those trying the hardest to be most progressive end up being the most intolerant
 
Haha there's a good game in that. Sadly it doesn't work for me, most Irish placenames are anglicisations anyway, I suppose I could have a go at reverse engineering Wytheshawe but even then Irish phonology isn't consistent like (I think?) Scottish Gaelic broadly is.

Using your system however, I do know someone who is from Port Au Benchill.
My last name is definitely more Irish than Polish. If you track my dad's family back a few generations you end up in Liverpool so it's not hard to imagine that if you keeping going far enough back I end up in Ireland.

Actually I think my mums mum is originally Irish. I don't feel that's super unusual for a Mancunian though.
 
I'll take the @BlueHammer85 route and link this if it may help. I forgot I watched this months ago too, not sure if he addresses your questions/observations because I can't relisten to it now, but all the same...


Disappointing interview to be honest. Most of my questions would probably result in the answer "I dunno I was really high". He did mention that the previous mix of the album was really dense and had to be redone.

There has been much said about his lyrics and how vulnerable and unfiltered it is. But I just dont hear it. He mentioned crying lots of times recording Habits but to me the lyrics just seem generic. Obviously he knows what he's referring to so he's going to have a more emotional connection but it doesn't hit me in any sense that goes beyond the general.
 
My last name is definitely more Irish than Polish. If you track my dad's family back a few generations you end up in Liverpool so it's not hard to imagine that if you keeping going far enough back I end up in Ireland.

Actually I think my mums mum is originally Irish. I don't feel that's super unusual for a Mancunian though.

Indeed, I think I read somewhere that over 25% of Mancunians have Irish DNA of one type or another.
 
Id love to hear more about your experiences as a minority. Im often a minority both ethically and by gender but I wonder if it's different as the majority of those situations are temporary.

And at the risk of sounding like one of those guys again sometimes those trying the hardest to be most progressive end up being the most intolerant

Nothing that interesting really, mostly semi rural areas of India. It's quite weird to encounter people with mobile phones who nonetheless get excited because they've never met a white person in the flesh before. Occasionally I would go places with an american colleague who had bright blonde hair and whenever she was there I magically became invisible!

Even in the city I could worship in somewhere big like Sacred Heart Cathedral in New Delhi and quite often be the only white face there. If you went to a church in the sticks you were definitely a bit of a novelty. I think that was a very different thing though, as whilst you are a minority of one you are with what is itself a very small minority in relation to the religious makeup of the country (often of migrants who'd moved north) so they themselves are aware of what it means to be other and of course you have a shared faith transcending your differences. Nonetheless I would sometimes sit there with small children staring at me for the entire duration of mass with the grown ups being a bit more furtive in their looks. I always assumed the novelty would wear off if I went to the same church(es) regularly but I seemed to remain some form of weekly entertainment.

Though there were often other white faces in work it was interesting how in some contexts once it would become apparent that unlike my colleagues I was British not American a subtle shift in how I was treated relative to them would often occur.

Thinking about all this you've reminded me of the one time being a bit different got me into all sorts of self-inflicted bother. In my brief soujourn as an archaeological surveyor in what was then Yugoslavia myself and a couple of colleagues found ourselves invited to a rural wedding in the area we'd been working. When we got there it was clear we were being shown off as 'exotic' friends and they made a big fuss of us but this included the old cliché of, as honoured guests, being given apparent delicacies that looked and tasted pretty iffy but had to be ate so's not to offend anyone. To galvanise ourselves we decked into some fortified wine but it was explained to us we should drink it diluted with water. We merrily explained that as Brits we could hold our drink, despite the clue being that even the massively built farmers present were all without exception diluting theirs. The looks of both horror and anticipation as we chugged away were subsequently entirely justified. Not one of my prouder 24 hours.
 
Nothing that interesting really, mostly semi rural areas of India. It's quite weird to encounter people with mobile phones who nonetheless get excited because they've never met a white person in the flesh before. Occasionally I would go places with an american colleague who had bright blonde hair and whenever she was there I magically became invisible!

Even in the city I could worship in somewhere big like Sacred Heart Cathedral in New Delhi and quite often be the only white face there. If you went to a church in the sticks you were definitely a bit of a novelty. I think that was a very different thing though, as whilst you are a minority of one you are with what is itself a very small minority in relation to the religious makeup of the country (often of migrants who'd moved north) so they themselves are aware of what it means to be other and of course you have a shared faith transcending your differences. Nonetheless I would sometimes sit there with small children staring at me for the entire duration of mass with the grown ups being a bit more furtive in their looks. I always assumed the novelty would wear off if I went to the same church(es) regularly but I seemed to remain some form of weekly entertainment.

Though there were often other white faces in work it was interesting how in some contexts once it would become apparent that unlike my colleagues I was British not American a subtle shift in how I was treated relative to them would often occur.

Thinking about all this you've reminded me of the one time being a bit different got me into all sorts of self-inflicted bother. In my brief soujourn as an archaeological surveyor in what was then Yugoslavia myself and a couple of colleagues found ourselves invited to a rural wedding in the area we'd been working. When we got there it was clear we were being shown off as 'exotic' friends and they made a big fuss of us but this included the old cliché of, as honoured guests, being given apparent delicacies that looked and tasted pretty iffy but had to be ate so's not to offend anyone. To galvanise ourselves we decked into some fortified wine but it was explained to us we should drink it diluted with water. We merrily explained that as Brits we could hold our drink, despite the clue being that even the massively built farmers present were all without exception diluting theirs. The looks of both horror and anticipation as we chugged away were subsequently entirely justified. Not one of my prouder 24 hours.
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