Jeeni Blog

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Huawei to Hell

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Huawei to Hell

Today, Jeeni returns to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “We’re ahead of our original schedule, but there’s still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases to hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE.

Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he’s agreed to share his work with our members. He’s a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here’s Mel’s latest!

Trade wars are dangerous. When tariffs are imposed, and when sanctions get slapped on, and when one nation ceases to trade with another nation, then a trade war has a funny habit of turning into a real war. And here we all are, slap bang in the middle of a lulu of a trade war between the world’s two most powerful states. This is a trade war that’s not based on essentials like oil, or wheat, or toilet paper, but a trade war based on the pixies and fairy-dust of software algorithms. One day a peace treaty is waved, next day missiles are launched. Here is what happened in the future.

The proxy war between the Donald Trump and Boris Johnson axis against Xi Jinping didn’t affect me much, seeing as I had never owned a Huawei handset. I admit that I did find some comfort in the fact that cellphone zombies became totally bereft at the prospect of not being able to view TikTok on their little Chinese screens. All I could say to those morons was - suck it up guys, you had it coming!

In the first few hours of the Huawei denial of service attacks, the bewilderment and confusion of being unable to access social media apps soon turned to anger. This was triggered by the fact that the masses were unable to access social media apps to tell one another that they could not access social media apps. They soon realised they couldn’t remember any contact details of any of their virtual friends, or why they were virtual friends in the first place. Neither could they remember where they were, or where anything else was, or how to find their way around the real world at all. And without the Uber app they found themselves physically marooned within the perimeters of their ignorance. Deliveroo failed to respond the following day, so to avoid starvation, people who had a strong sense of smell managed to find their way to MacDonalds. But the computers were down and riots began when the Cola ran out, as slow-motion customers blamed Covid19 for the fact that China and the USA were having a software spat.

That night, the younger, more active elements of society went on the rampage and looted Tescos for pot noodles, which was a total waste of effort because the electric kettles no longer worked, thanks to smart-meter reliance on dodgy apps. Tuesday evening, after martial law and compulsory prayers, the county lines failed to supply recreational drugs to their app-driven client base, and hospitals were targeted to fill the gap in the market. Amusing video clips of the descent into chaos were not shared, not because of any sense of social responsibility but because Instagram was kaput. This added to the howling rage of the mob more than somewhat. Then, not long after the dogs began to disappear, the hunting of the weak began, and there was the smell of woodsmoke and bacon in the air. On a more positive note, a lot of overweight people slimmed down fast and learned new skills like shadow puppetry and crossbow production.

And so it was that all those predictions how civilisation would end as the result of electro-magnetic-pulse attacks turned out to be wrong. There was no need to launch missiles, zap communications or fry every electronic circuit in the land. All it took was an old man with an orange face to start a pissing contest. The irony that the old man’s preferred means of communication was Twitter is not lost on me, but then I don’t need Google Maps to tell me that we’re all up shit creek without a paddle.

And that, dear reader, is how come we all ended up on the Huawei to Hell.

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My grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck.

06
Jun

My grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck.

Jeeni has returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “I admit we’re ahead of our original schedule, but there’s still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases. Then we can hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE. Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he’s agreed to share his work with all our members. He’s a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here’s one of Mel’s latest! One bright Autumn morning, my grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck. He got run over crossing the road on his regular walk to work. He was 84. And I am comforted to know that he loved his work as much as he loved his walk. As for me, I have yet to reach that ripe old age but I am still working most hours, most days. It's not so much that I love my work, more that I don't know what else to do. When I was younger, so much younger than today, I was promised a sci-fi world where all labour would be performed by robots, leaving us humans to enjoy a more meaningful existence. Before my grandfather was born, Karl Marx wrote that in a mechanised society workers would be freed from the monotony of work to “hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, criticise after dinner.” My grandfather certainly never saw such a sci-fi world or Marxist society, and I'm still waiting for it. But the way things are going I may not have to wait much longer for robots to take over the tedium of work. Judging by their behaviour, I suspect that most telemarketers, receptionists, estate agents and bar tenders were replaced by robots ages ago. And for drivers, machine operators and manual workers, it can only be only a matter of time. The first robot aircraft pilot took to the skies then navigated flawlessly and landed safely way back in 1947. Robots have been successfully conducting complex heart surgery since 2004. Artificial intelligence has already reached the cognitive power of a nine year-old human, in which case it is qualified to run for President of the USA in November. But do we really need political leaders to tell us how best to fill our waking hours? If we can develop all these technological wonders then we should be smart enough to work it out for ourselves. Our waking hours are dominated by work, whether we are in work or not. Strikers are depicted as troublemakers. Artists are depicted as idle. The poor are depicted as scroungers. The state cajoles the unemployed, the sick and the disabled to get off their arses and work. We are educated with the goal of work in mind, then having worked all our lives we are grudgingly handed back a mingy pension which we paid for in the first place. The idealised worker works in order to pay the childminder, the Deliveroo driver, the dog walker, the baker, the brewer, the app maker, because the idealised worker has no time left for such things. The idealised worker is too busy working to do any of these things for herself. For huge numbers of us the significance of the old certainties of community, religion, politics, and even family, have all fallen away to be replaced by work. For huge numbers of us work is how we give our lives meaning, while at the same time work has become more precarious, more impersonal, more stressful, and the app-driven gig economy is a perfect example of this. Yet everybody knows that automation is already capable of doing most manual jobs of work, and now artificial intelligence is predicted as achieving the capability of taking over most desk-bound jobs too. Since the pandemic, the entire framework of work is falling apart. But as a species we are not hardwired to work for a living. We never have been. We were lied to by those who said we must work, either to deserve a mythological afterlife, or protect an artificial realm, or for supposed honour, or someone else's glory, or for tokens of currency that can only be spent at the store owned by the company that issues those tokens in the first place. But of course all of those motivations are a con. And an obvious con at that. So here's the thing. Now we have cheap reliable technology, let's get all the robots to do as much of the muscle work as they can, and let's get all the artificial intelligences to do as much of the brain work as they can. Then let's redistribute the remaining working hours evenly to we the people, and in return pay ourselves some of that fabricated stuff called money so we can buy good food and decent shelter. By my reckoning six hours a day, three days a week will do nicely to pick up the slack left by the robots. Work needn't be useless. Work includes child-rearing, caring for the elderly and protecting the vulnerable. It also includes growing food, dreaming up new businesses and fixing the tap. And work includes creating music and dance and poetry and streaming it on Jeeni.com. It is self-evident that all valid work is worth the same valid reward. This is not a Marxist idea, or even a socialist proposal. It's the Tories who bang on about work being such a good thing and everyone pulling their weight, and I completely agree with them. Margaret Thatcher, that champion of work culture, said, “The heresies of one period become the orthodoxies of the next.” Yes indeedy, so bring on the robots and the electronic brains. If work is such a good thing then let everyone have a go for a few hours a week for a universal payment. And don't worry about how the payment is distributed, the accounts have all been reckoned by computers for years. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

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For the Love of words - why writing it out makes the best therapy.

06
Jun

For the Love of words - why writing it out makes the best therapy.

By Sammie Venn. Jeeni's Official Writer, Columnist and Blogger I have been an avid bookworm all my life. I used to read under the covers by torchlight when I was little and wake up bleary eyed but full of wonder. Delving into alternative worlds until the early hours, I would write stories and music imagining I was part of those mystical realms. Even though I was only 10 I understood the power of words. Their lyricism was captivating, and the songs I wrote became part of me, despite the fact that I could not hit a single note on key. My grandmother was an Opera singer, so my dulcet tones were put to shame, but it never stopped me belting out a melody in the shower as I grew older. Little did I know that verse would be my go-to therapy and expression of humanity in later life. Art in any form is therapeutic. Macklemore wrote that “Music moves people. It connects them in ways that no other medium can. It pulls heart strings. It acts as medicine” . Whether it is playing an instrument, reading, painting or writing, creative activity in any guise will have a positive impact on our mental health. Music is to the soul what words are to the mind, it’s all about turning a cacophony of phrases into poetic verse. I have always described it as a cathartic vent; enabling a confrontation between the most of powerful demons as well as deepest desires. Poetry is my chosen genre these days; it helps to make sense of chaotic thoughts in a non-sensical way. Iambic pentameter, rhythm and rhyme gives a structure to the subconscious and coherence to thought. David Richo author of “How to be an adult” said that “Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us - Our tears are precious, necessary, and part of what make us such endearing creatures.”  Just like a piece of music, giving your thoughts a physical shape helps them to form a new arrangement. Why not spend 10/15 minutes a day brain dumping. I always finish a liberating mind sweep with a gratitude list. It helps me to feel invigorated and more energised. Write from your heart, not your mind. Get those words down on a page, it doesn’t have to be rational, make sense to others or be the next prize winning tome. Writing therapy is about you as an individual clearing headspace for renewal and recovery. Don’t censor or perfect just let your feelings be part of a free flow process. Tune into those emotions, stay as present as you can with them and let the page hold onto them so you don’t have to. Fictionalise yourself. Create a third person version of you - I have employed this technique numerous times it is like writing for self-knowledge. The plethora of journals that sit on my bookshelves describe hope, abundance, love, passion, desire, fear and all manner of emotions in between. In understanding how I wanted to feel, I was able to get creative and fall in love with a whole new way of being. As the Beatles so appropriately said “take a sad song and make it better”. So I would like to share one of my poems with you its called “ Wild Child”.

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Ariana May - ‘First Love’ Album Review

04
May

Ariana May - ‘First Love’ Album Review

Ariana May’s first instrumental album is a delicate and stirring collection of piano excellence.   Ariana May has been a vital Jeeni member for a while now and has developed an incredibly in-depth and fascinating showcase full of art-pop and remarkable talent. Recently, she has uploaded the entirety of her new instrumental album, ‘First Love’ on to Jeeni. Listen now via Ariana’s showcase available here: https://jeeni.com/showcase/arianamay/.  As sweet and melodic her voice is, Ariana’s choice of expressing her compositions purely through her piano means that the structures are much more freeing and aren’t constricted to modern pop’s verse, chorus, verse, chorus, chorus forms. Her musicianship flows almost spontaneously; tempo decreases and increases as Ariana sees fit and phrases are fluid in length and timbre.  The titles are excellent tonal suggestions as they act as a sort of starting point of picturing the imagery that Ariana clearly has in mind during both composing and performing these dramatic and theatrical pieces. Ariana May shows a real knack for cinematographic songwriting as it’s not difficult at all to imagine any one of these pieces as a perfect accompaniment for a location-setting scene in cinema.  The final track, ‘Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow’ is exceptional, especially considering the tonal balance Ariana creates. A moody left hand mostly mumbles in a depressed, constant rotation of dark notes; meanwhile, the right is desperately trying to sound uplifting and optimistic through bright, ascending melodies and phrases. The two parts feel like two characters that are trying to influence the other to behave more like them at different moments of the piece, showing a vivid internal conflict, hence the ‘Sweet Sorrow’ in the title. The changes between these mindsets are sudden and frantic, a perfect representation of a troubled mind.  What’s special about these types of projects is that a breakdown or analysis of these compositions could easily be miles from what Ariana had envisioned when writing it, but the freedom given to the listener with a vague title and complete absence of lyrics allows your imagination to fill in gaps and colour in the compositions with meaning and intention that makes most sense to you; it becomes personal.  Throughout 'First Love', Ariana constantly shows an unprecedented level of emotion and control in her playing through her soft and poignant broken chords and melodies. Check out the entirety of this enchanting record on Jeeni: https://jeeni.com/showcase/arianamay/

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