A necessary introduction.

The unbelievably pretentious title of this book is such for three reasons. One is in the sub-heading, so if you missed it cast your eyes upwards about five centimeters, then bring them back down so you can continue reading. Second is the word 'gentlemanly' itself. It's therapeutic, in an archaic way. It's a member of that elite class of words which are parodied more than they are actually used, like honour, or German. This means it's a word I'm naturally fond of, one more interesting than the usual and, if used correctly, eye-catching. Notable. I mean, is there any more room for the word 'gentleman' in its adverbial sense? No - unless it's deliberate. And so wilfully using this word helps keep some of its original meaning together, showing it the respect it deserves.

The third reason is the word 'proposal', and I had a much easier time choosing this word than the other. As a word, it feels undaunting; it's intention is not to browbeat or indoctrinate the recipient but simply to offer up a point of view, concisely if possible. It is not a heavy word - formal, certainly, but light. Unless you're a politician (in which case 'proposals' have to be handled as carefully as one would a canister of nerve agent), a proposal, in such a sense, should not be an intimidating thing. You should not be put off by hearing an opinion 'proposed'. The proposer accepts that he may be rejected and by accepting has put you in the agreeable position of not being afraid to disagree, this then leading to you being much more inclined to listen to him. It's all very . . . gentlemanly.

And that is what I want for my only 'proper' blog. I've had a few in the past, including the obligatory LiveJournal, but I've never held any real regard for them. They were simply created because that is what teenagers with laptops in their rooms have. Apart from being a fertile breeding ground for juxtaposing the increasing of knowledge with the increasing of narrow-mindedness, and an ideal megaphone to whine into, they are mindlessly counter-productive. People talk about things without bothering to do them, simply because writing about them is more comforting. I am hardly including every blog ever written in this judgment; a number of blogs I consider phenominal, and through knowing the authors I understand how much the outlet is valued. But at the same time, maybe three out of the upward-of-thirty blogs I either frequent or check on occasionally are either of any use or even contain an interesting set of points (whether relevant to me or not). Some careful testing of the waters has revealed this ratio extends to much of the internet, which is disappointing. Blogs such as these are not innocent but in their own way damaging, because you've just wasted ten minutes of otherwise-profitable time browsing.

I don't bear any grudge towards blog culture; the internet is fundamentally anarchic, in that everyone, literally everyone, has a voice with no-one to temper it but themselves. The beauty of the arrangement is you can ignore what you dislike - no-one can rub your face into a monitor while still sitting behind their own. So this begs the question: if I'm highly skeptical about blogs in general, why on earth am I constructing one? For two reasons.

One, I will be laid out through the whole of October following complicated sinus and nasal surgery, and I need somewhere to post my film reviews.

Two, I need a concise place to post thoughts too abstract for my diary (which I prefer to limit to hard fact and feelings I am certain about) and too self-centred for any public forum. I like to call these my 'musings', because they aren't charged with emotion and are often a response to events rather than a proactive opinion. They are simply observations which can be ignored at will (hence, proposal), but I aim to make them worth reading . I'm no philosopher, athough I find myself at least as philosophical as the next teen - the difference being that I haven't read a book by Camus and therefore consider myself his successor. (I do like Camus, though. Particularly the laid-back way he refused to be pigeonholed.) I just have plenty of time to think about things and would like to preserve the results of that time somewhere. Jerry Holkins has set the standard and reading him has set me thinking in the same way: from a more fundamental viewpoint than usual. Isolate the subject, address them without prejudice, but don't be cynical. If you see a positive, note a positive. If you see a negative, note a negative. Try to prize yourself away from wishing a foregone conclusion and break things down to their basest level. Do not be mean, and if you wish to give something the benefit of the doubt then do so. And above all, be honest. For example: "I read reviews primarily to be incensed." There is nothing but honesty in a line which manages to break down and summarise an entire culture. Genius.

So after this overlong introduction is posted, there will be no writings until late September after my four-months-compressed-into-one-month course has finished. I spend most of my 40-minute commute thinking so I'll have to try and remember some of it for that time. But look for regular updates come then; I'll be reading a good deal and watching a good deal, and will always have something to muse on.

And, if you're reading, please now take yourself to Eternally Under Construction. Apart from being the best blog currently updated, it's written by my best friend. While it would be nice to have three updates a week rather than two, what she writes is concise and eminently intelligent. A very, very respectable online diary.

A gentleman should always find something to praise.