I write here today… because I otter.

Wheyyyoooo!

Trigger Warning – Slavery, Allusions to sexual violence

That was likely the best part of this little ramble, as I try to both collect and construct my thoughts about life and all its recent mysteries. Since last we spoke, much has happened. Or has it? Is my nut just wilting?

I recollect that I spoke to you about a new job – I still have this job.
Perhaps I mentioned that I was soon to be a christened homeowner? I shall soon be a knight of the property owning realm and a member of bourgeoisie. I definitely mentioned that.
‘We’ (the world) has a new President! Thanks guys, this one looks great.
Did I mention the sterility of my work / holding cell? I’m not sure I did as it was probably too early to tell. It is a Foucauldian nightmare. Cameras, timers, geotags. What would Fucko think?!

That leads me neatly into madness. Isn’t it all mad? It is. Marx wouldn’t be best pleased.

Anyway, I’m getting distracted. The point of order is Otters. I’ve been reading ‘The Ring of Bright Water’ for some time now and I figured I could improvise something along those lines. I mentioned that my work environment is sterile and panoptical almost like that of a holding cell. They’ve even done me the favour of removing risky implements with which I could injure myself. In many senses I am like an otter in a cage.

A mad otter.

The strange thing about Gavin Maxwell’s book is the utter devotion to otters throughout. The writing is beautifully stylistic and describes Scotland amazingly however it is mainly about otters. I am finally in the middle of the third book and beginning to get some actual jeopardy. The jeopardy was actually someones life so I shouldn’t wish it to come but it does make up for a lot of stories about otters. In someways this mimics again my own life and work. I am the otter in the cage and I am also the reader/writer focusing relentlessly all my energy on a strange object (a branded exercise bike). Though I spend parts of my day looking out at the beautiful countryside or being petted by the master and fed strange big-american-money treats, it really is all about the otter (or exercise bike). Myself and my co-worker / co-otter find ourselves wishing for jeopardy to liven up the day. We often escape the cage and frequent the waterfall (taken from Maxwell’s book, in our case it is over-priced, gentrifying and generally evil coffee shops). But we need to escape.

The most recent of these jeopardies came as we drove back from our little otter job out in the west of Scotland. We wrinkled up our little otter snouts (facemasks) as the tyre pressure warning light lit up suddenly…
“What could it be?” I squeaked to my little otter friend.
We pulled over to investigate and found that there in the little rubber paw was a galvanized zinc nail. “Oh what a bother!” we mused but decided to forge on, hungry for little treats – KFC.
After our treats we checked the pressure of the tire paw and after deciding to bandage and replace the paw with a new paw which we kept bolted to the under carriage of the car fix the puncture, we set off gingerly.
As we did so our little otter faces showed alarm once more as a jet of air shot up from our other paw!
“Oh no!” We both squeaked. “Now we’ll have to phone the master or recovery service.”
After letting out a magical otter roar to ATS we were informed that the vet would soon be with us. As we hung up our otter squeaker we decided that it woould be prudent to check our other paws, just in case.
Low and behold, you wouldn’t believe it… Another nail! That is three nails in three separate paws (tires). What terrible luck! We let out a howl again and the vet said he’d bring an extra tire, now we just had to wait. And wait we did, for almost three hours – thankfully next to a KFC. However, our bad luck didn’t end there, as we waited and shortly after we’d called the vet (ATS) we felt a sudden lurch in the vehicle.
“What happened?” I asked the otter sat behind the steering wheel. “Did you stall it?”
“Nah…” he squeeked back in disgust.
I glanced into the mirror and then saw a sight which will shock me to my dying day. A red Hyundai. nasty otter had crashed into us when we weren’t looking! How extraordinary… We exchanged details and were all releaved to discover that no damage was caused to either otter.
Soon after the vet arrived and we made it back to the depot cage safely, if rather late.

That is an example of the minor jeopardy which when told in the style of otters and placed next to the mundane normalcy of our daily lives may sound entertaining. It’s at least a story which required a remark, whether this makes it remarkable or not is a different question.

The reason I was prompted to read Gavin Maxwell’s book was due to the fact that the I was about to be going on holiday to the area. Luckily, and in true Maxwell style, I have a pied-a-terre in Glenelg, the closest hamlet to the tragic islands of Sandaig which Maxwell made his home. This trip never happened as I began work in my new job.

I mentioned last time out that I’d been listening to Why Theory which is as insightful and enlivening as it is inspiring and enlightening. In the most recent episode Todd and Murray discuss Hegel’s Master and Slave dialectic and as always shit goes down. (I will now attempt to link Hegel’s Master and Slave dialectic to my own life in crapitalism and the life of Maxwell and his otters.)

In the context of me reading the book for a holiday that never happened we can see how the master/slave dynamic works – the job is both freedom and opportunity but also requires that I cancel my moment of true extreme freedom. Give with one hand, take with the other. Be an otter and bite the fucker. Did I mention that otters are also strangely violent?

If we are to take the master/slave as occurring within the subject then we can see my own dread (see my last wittle) at my ill-gotten gains as a kind of material proof of the idea that the object cannot truly overcome the subject. This is both heartening and disheartening. In my own dominion we could less confidently say that my position as otter is both my freedom – to go and collect stories and live my otter life, and my unfreedom – I can only stay in the cage and when I leave the cage I am only able to perform tasks as an otter or escape as an otter – defined by the master, wearing branded clothes etc. Moreover, any freedom afforded to me is as a result of the masters kindness and therefore feels tarnished and unworthy. Does this include inspiration? I remebered a sit-com idea I had for Frankie Boyle and found a conclusion to it which had previously troubled me, is this mine or is this the companies? Do I own my house? I don’t know. What I do know is that ultimately, I am not an otter *. The pre-existing me is still there regardless of what has happened to it to change it, the change is temporary. Whether this is revolutionary or not I don’t know. (See otter attacking video).

In the context of Gavin Maxwell we can see him both as Master of the otters and slave to them by nature of his position as master. Maxwell was a writer who became ( in these books) defined by his work as an otter-writer, for me and I think possibly for him too it took the destruction of the otters and for his book to become interesting again.

Funnily enough, I’ve actually heard some hidden truths which don’t feature in the book and which are real jeopardies. Truly horrifying rumours exist about the author which are obviously not in the book, this further begs the question as to why I am reading this book and also perhaps acts as a similar bridge between the story of Maxwell and the astory of my own. I am perhaps the masters favorite slave, or better still the slave they treat best. In this context the favorite slave is not a good place to be. I am fully aware that ideally I wouldn’t be doing the work I’m doing as the company is gross however I am treated well compared to other companies I have worked for. I am also aware that elsewhere in the world there are people who work for this company who will not get treated as well. The face of the brand isn’t the shiny name on the product it is the scrawled Chinese characters on the shipments or the min-fonted A4 on cheap paper. It is the rank smell of cheap scooter tires. While I wax lyrical about the master/slave dialectic, someone is living a master/slave reality. It is important to realise that. While we discuss the pet and owner, someone is petting/being groomed. I do not under any circumstances want to make light of these things, I’m simply trying to think them through to understand why they exist. Perhaps the writing of a fluffy, squeeky book about otters apeased the darker side of Maxwell which exists in heresay?

While we are on the topic, I will breifly mention here the absolutely incredible Handmaids Tale which I have recently become hooked on. It is the concept I and probably every writing minded person looking at Trump’s America wish they’d come up with. The show is brilliant and sinister. That these realities exist for people makes you wonder why these stories exist however they serve a greater purpose than stories about otters. It is veiled in fiction however instead of told like truth.

Anyway, I don’t want to get carried down the metaphysical river here as I was only using Hegel to once again give thanks to ‘Why Theory?’ and also to describe, my current circumstances and the book I am stilllllll reading. Hopefully the subsumption jeopardy shit gets real in it as it is starting to get dull. I’ll report back. In my own case I doubt there will be a moment where the master is destroyed or the slave set free but instead we will part ways at some point in the future, constantly trying to reckon what was lost and what was gained. One or other may be subsumed, I hope that its the master and I can evolve to not work for the company I work for anymore.

For now I will scuttle around wearing my otter suit, looking out of the otter cage and doing laps of the country as an otter and though I may look for temporary escape, I escape only as an otter. One day, both me, and the world around me will realise the truth, that I am not an otter, none of us are. We are people.

This about brings me to a close. I hope you can go away and listen to Why Theory. I think there was a film made about the Ring of Bright Water – probably a better idea than reading it.I’ll get back to you if things get hairy and a little more interesting. The Handmaid’s Tale is amazing but terribly dark so comes with a warning. Could either Frankie Boyle or Why Theory now respond with a Hegelian explanation of the sad wank phenomenon please? I have a friend who wants to know.

*That concluding sentence pleased me greatly as it hopefully describes both the dilemma of capitalist work and describes the issue with Maxwell’s books – they both all about otters.