12/12/12

I’m sure there’s many people writing songs, poems, articles, novels and whatever else today. The 12^th of the 12^th 12. A date that hasn’t occurred in a thousand years, one that won’t occur for another thousand. Continuous dates are rare, 12 of them in a millennium. It seems right to mark it in some way.

After all Shakespeare, Joyce… wait a minute, shur this bollocks, it’ll happen in a hundred years, not a thousand. Fuck me, I thought it was a momentous day and I suppose it is for my lifetime but it’s not that big of a deal.

I’ve been thinking about writing this piece all day and continuous dates ending for about a year at least. At first today I thought it had been two thousand years since the last continuous dates even though the man who brought about our calendar would have only been hitting puberty then. Then I thought it was a thousand, now I realize it’s been a hundred.

I had these grand notions of being able to do something Shakespeare and Joyce and all the other greats of literature never could.

I was thinking about writing about how on the last continuous date the printing press hadn’t been invented. But I failed to think it through properly.

Well, here I am, with nonetheless a significant date and with the feeling I should write about it.

I’m going to think of this like a bit of a time capsule for a future person to read on the 12/12/2112. Maybe a grandson of mine. It might even be me, technology is moving wicked fast and life longevity or ‘seemingly’ eternal human life may not be that far away.

If there is this ‘seemingly’ eternal life with you in the year 2112 there is something I must tell you and listen to me very closely, “You are not fucking immortal!”

Even if you’ve cured all diseases and stopped the ageing process something’s gonna get cha!

Let  me explain by using a quote from a book/film from the 1990s called Fight Club (Dig that one out of the archives if it has been forgotten), “On a long enough timeline everyone’s survival rate drops to zero.”

No matter how unlikely it is that a ninja will jump out of a bush and chop your head off given enough time it’s going to happen.  

“Aha!” I hear shout through the time vortex, “Silly man from the past, we’ve developed perfect decapitation re-headification therapy. I got my head chopped off five times this week alone. It’s comparable to getting a cold in your time.”

It doesn’t matter you arrogant bastard, so long as there is one thing that can end your existence it will happen. Even if that is just being caught in a supernova or sucked into a black hole, it will happen to you. And if you try to tell me you’ve developed something that can help you survive a supernova I say bollocks and show me the me the mental patient willing to try it.

Your lives are probably longer, you’re probably healthier and smoking is probably a distant memory. If you’ve forgotten about smoking it’s when you roll tobacco leaves in paper and smoke it. It’s really good for you, you should try it. It’s a bit smelly and if you don’t like it don’t worry, you can quit anytime you want.

I doubt you’re happier. Life is probably longer for you but I bet it seems to go very fast. It’s still precious and valuable. There is probably still nothing better than having a good laugh. I hope you’re having many I hope this contributes. Viva 2112!

Allowing

My post yesterday was a worried one. But today after posting the same question on a few websites I have gained some reassurance. I am me. If writing about me is where my instincts take me then that is where I should go. I suspected this but was afraid I was wrong, that I needed to create completely new characters but a lot of authors, if you examine their books have characters which are pretty much the same.

No matter how far you try and take them away from yourself they will alwaysretaina part of you. People read books not only for the characters but for the author as well. If you fight against your instincts then you're going to struggle.

This information has re-invigiorated me as I was worried a character ina  book was too like me but fuck it I'm just going to let it be and bust on.

Another thing that was said to me was that some writers need to get some personal things out of their system before they can move on to other topics. That's true I have a lot to deal with. Maybe wriitng will help, I think I will need at least some therapy, if I ever get round to it. I remembered a quote from someone who said an artists/writers first work is always autobiographical.

Feeling good about my art at the moment.  

Post

I get a restless feeling a lot these days. I want to something but can't sit down to do it. I have become more impatient. My thoughts are always flitting around the place not making much sense. Where I used to be able to command myself to do something now my mind says, "No! No! No!" and hops off on a pogo stick to some other random place making me go with it.

I'm struggling to write this post at the minute. It doesn't want me to confront it. It wants me to go to bed and have a wank. Well, that can wait. I want to be more disciplined and that's going to take hard slog. Why can't this shit be easy?

I suppose it wouldn't be worth it then. I need to calm myself down and focus on the moment not the outcome of my actions. Because if I don't act now, there won't be any outcome. I want discipline but there's a huge part of me that doesn't. Even when I sit down to write I don't put in as much effort as I could. I think it's good enough that I'm doing something while others do nothing but it's not enough!

You may think since I regularly update this blog that I have a good amount of discipline but the truth is that it is itself becoming a distraction from my other work. I can do nothing all day and then do my blog post at night and it's still a good day. That's how I think and it's wrong.

I believe I have unbelievable talent and have the potential to achieve great things but I don't believe I will have the courage to fulfill that potential. Is there a point in saying I will overcome the demon inside me holding me back when I don't know what's on the other side of that? When I scared to find out? The person who'd emerge would be different and I'm not sure I'm ready to face him.

Sometimes I wish I'd be in a major accident where I have a near death experience. I think this would be the only way to spur me on to live life to the fullest. Isn't that a fucked up paradox? I want to do something worthwhile so badly that I'd be willing to almost die to get myself to do it.Yet, if I want it so badly to contemplate this then why can't I just go ahead and do it?

I need to get better, I will get better, I will get better. A positive mental attitude will work, it has to fucking work.

Getting Past Myself

I like to write blogs and journalistic pieces but I consider myslef a creative writer first and foremost. This has created a problem for me since I started. At least one of my charcaters has always been based on me. I have found it almost impossible up till now to write a main character that isn't exactly like me.

Have I not been trying hard enough? This is definitely one possibility. I am writing a story at the moment basing the main character on a real person but still as I write he is turning into me. I was determined this time to make him different but as I go along he is talking to another guy about my problems and I can't seem to help myself. I'm getting these ideas that I have issues with myself and until I get over these I won't be able to write characters which aren't like me. But is that just me being lazy? Is it another excuse not to do it? If I push myself harder will I get there? Will I ever be the person and the writer I want to be until I get get over them?

It is a difficult question because it is so serious. Maybe I do need help but maybe I do need to work harder. Neiter might be the answer, or both. The truth is that I'm afraid to let go of my demons. I think sometimes they are all I have. My issues are my identity. What sort of a life would I have without them?

My life is based on me. I know everyone's is but I think I live within myself, not in the world. Does anyone feel the same?

The Greatest Shame: Savita

The posters still hang outside the Dail for the children’s referendum as people gather for a candlelit vigil in sadness and in anger over Savita Halappanavar’s death. One says ‘Protect Children’. Yes, protect children, little boys and little girls. But even after another referendum was held decades ago, a Supreme Court ruling made 20 years, or five general elections, ago the government still won’t introduce legislation to protect women.

Savita died last month in Galway University Hospital. She was refused an abortion even though the baby had zero chance of survival because of our lack of political will and lack of legislation. She waited in agony for days as doctors refused to perform the abortion as the fetus still had a heartbeat. This meant her cervix would not close and she developed septicaemia. When the fetus' heartbeat finally stopped, it was removed but Savita died sometime later.


What can you say about this? It is horrible, sad, disgusting, disgraceful, heartbreaking, sickening, despicable, but words don't cut it. You could get the greatest writers who ever lived to weigh in on this and Shakespeare would be lost trying to grip the feeling around it. It would take James Joyce longer than he took to write Ulysses to come close to expressing it.

A woman in a supposedly developed nation lying on a bed in agony being told ‘This is a Catholic country’ so you can’t have proper medical treatment, a woman dying because she couldn’t get a simple medical procedure. Jesus was meant to be a caring person who wanted everyone to go to heaven. What happened in Galway sounds like hell. There is nothing pro-life about this. The fetus is dead, Savita is dead.

The main focus should be on this woman and empathy with her family. But how can you not get angry? It's been twenty fucking years since the 'X' case and no government has had the balls to do anything about it. A woman died because TDs are too afraid to annoy a section of society they know will vote in every election. Young and middle aged women obviously do not matter.  Irish politicians, past and present, need to feel great shame today. You have failed at your job, you have failed a gender in your country and you are a bunch of cowards.

Legislation that may have saved Savita’s life was before the Dail earlier this year and the government voted it down. They said that something like this wouldn’t happen, that the legislation was there to deal with this kind of thing. Well, it has happened and now you have no more excuses. 15 Fine Gael TDs said if the government introduced such legislation they would vote against it, even with the government whip. I’m guessing those TDs are very silent somewhere right now.

The tragedy is terrifying for pregnant women in this country. And it should be terrifying for everyone else because as was said outside the Dail this evening it could be your mother, your sister, your wife or girlfriend who is next. If the government doesn’t act on this it is more shameful than the way the previous government acted during the banking crisis. If you knew someone was in real danger of being shot to death you would be expected to tell the Gardai. The government is expected to protect the lives of women and they did nothing. 


They have said they were waiting on the expert group report they commissioned on the European Court of Human Rights ruling on the ‘X’ case before doing anything. I read last night that this had just landed on Minister for Health, James Reilly’s desk. How convenient? Now you must legislate on this as soon as it can be done properly, which shouldn’t be that long. Ireland is a proud nation and has held onto this throughout our financial meltdown but it has been shaken by Savita's death.

Politicians sitting in today’s Dail and in their homes on retirement have questions to answer. There is a long streak of slime from a slug of backboneless governments. And as you sit sucking your thumbs underneath tables in Leinster House trying to think of bullshit excuses remember you have no right to spin this. You fucked up. You should kiss the feet of Savita’s family because you owe them more than you’ll ever be able to give back. Her heart was broken from losing a child; it was stopped by your inaction.

A protest will be held tomorrow 17/12 at 4pm in Dublin. We will meet at the Garden of Rememberance and march to the dail. You have a responsibility to go to this if you can. I'm not asking, I'm telling.

Superstition

Was going to bed but then I saw I had 13 posts done on the 13th. Don't like that number. How I feel about superstition can be best described by paraphrasing John Steinbeck. I think it was in either Cannery Row or Tortilla Flat (Underrated and heart warming) where he said the people of _____ didn't believe they would get bad luck by walking under ladders or stepping on cracks in the pavement. It was, of course, silly superstition but you could be sure none of the residents would risk it.

That's it, I don't believe in superstition but I wouldn't like to chance it just in case. That's why I always salute a single magpie and feel good when I see more than one. Most people say you need to salute/blow a kiss at/ wave at the first one you see a day but I do it to every lone one. Not wanting to look weird on the street sometimes I pretend I'm just scratching my head then flick my hand out.

Oddly enough I actually like stepping on cracks in the pavement. Far from avoiding them I will go out of my way to step on them. I like the way it feels. As I walk along I will try to get the front part of my foot to touch a crack, then the other front of the foot, then the middle of both, then the heels and finally the middle again. I do the middle again because otherwise it would add up to six and I don't like that number. This usually takes a couple of goes.

Am I on my own here?

Or when I'm in a car driving down the road I will try to twitch a bicep in between the different telephone poles. I will try to create some kind of a pattern. This has nothing to do with luck, probably some form of OCD but hey want you going to do. Tap your foot three times, tap your foot three times, tap your foot times...

Mind on a Pogo Stick

Tired, tired, tiredness. I'm wrecked from thinking. My thoughts are zipping round my brain like loose electrical cables. It's like there is something broken in there. This won't be a long post, I'm only writing to keep up the routine.

I don't know whether I'm coming or going for the few days. Trying to discipline myself but feel like my brain is on a pogo stick refusing to stay still. I don't fuck it, I'm going to bed. Sweet dreams people.