Blocks and Tackles
Hail,
Irritometer's in the red today. Due to the additive affect of this virus coming in the middle of night shift I have slept all day yesterday, all last night and all day today and I still sound like a crapulous dalek after a gin binge. Everything gets under my skin.
I have tried to use this anger, like they said in that creative writing course years ago. I was going to write a list of "things that shit me", but I have started and deleted this entry eight times today, because each time I write down something about something I loathe I start to feel horribly guilty, so I delete it.
I think at some level I am worried that if I write down what I really feel about some people, then that person's feelings will be hurt. Just to be clear, we are talking about people like Marilyn Manson and George Bush.
This can't be good. I am sure it's not therapeutic. And I am sure that Marilyn Manson, a heavily made-up-and-even-more-heavily-marketed teenage pop idol who dresses as a bikini clad corpse, is not going to be staring at this page with tears rolling down his face saying "I thought John was my friend!".
It's a weird phenomenon. Every time I articulate one of these "critical of someone else"/"possibly impolite"/complaints about my lot/unChristian/unprofessional thoughts I freeze up and can't write. It's ridiculous.
Let's try it now.
So: things and people that I crap me.
Nope. Didn't work. Talk about inhibited.
I saw this book of peotry once called "Blocks and Tackles." Damn fine title, I thought. That's what life is like. That's why self expression can be difficult. You try to say something and the internal censor stamps on its head even before it's formed. More like an internal abortionist than an internal censor.
Hmmm. What do the preceding few paragraphs mean - things crap me that shouldn't normally crap me, the inability to articulate my feelings, disturbed sleep? Well, it almost certainly means that the tide is moving out again.
Bugger.
Don't know if I've used that image before, it's certainly not one I would claim to have originated, but it's a good one. The tide goes out and exposes the stuff we normally keep covered.
Well, we shall see. No night shifts for a few weeks, which is good.
John
Irritometer's in the red today. Due to the additive affect of this virus coming in the middle of night shift I have slept all day yesterday, all last night and all day today and I still sound like a crapulous dalek after a gin binge. Everything gets under my skin.
I have tried to use this anger, like they said in that creative writing course years ago. I was going to write a list of "things that shit me", but I have started and deleted this entry eight times today, because each time I write down something about something I loathe I start to feel horribly guilty, so I delete it.
I think at some level I am worried that if I write down what I really feel about some people, then that person's feelings will be hurt. Just to be clear, we are talking about people like Marilyn Manson and George Bush.
This can't be good. I am sure it's not therapeutic. And I am sure that Marilyn Manson, a heavily made-up-and-even-more-heavily-marketed teenage pop idol who dresses as a bikini clad corpse, is not going to be staring at this page with tears rolling down his face saying "I thought John was my friend!".
It's a weird phenomenon. Every time I articulate one of these "critical of someone else"/"possibly impolite"/complaints about my lot/unChristian/unprofessional thoughts I freeze up and can't write. It's ridiculous.
Let's try it now.
So: things and people that I crap me.
Nope. Didn't work. Talk about inhibited.
I saw this book of peotry once called "Blocks and Tackles." Damn fine title, I thought. That's what life is like. That's why self expression can be difficult. You try to say something and the internal censor stamps on its head even before it's formed. More like an internal abortionist than an internal censor.
Hmmm. What do the preceding few paragraphs mean - things crap me that shouldn't normally crap me, the inability to articulate my feelings, disturbed sleep? Well, it almost certainly means that the tide is moving out again.
Bugger.
Don't know if I've used that image before, it's certainly not one I would claim to have originated, but it's a good one. The tide goes out and exposes the stuff we normally keep covered.
Well, we shall see. No night shifts for a few weeks, which is good.
John
posted by Bronze John at 6:16 PM
2 Comments:
I thought you'd given up the night and returned to the day, then I read your blog. It reminds me of Hyperion having people thrown at him.
I know what you mean about the block thing. I think it's got something to do with having an audience and worrying what people will think (or it is with me, anyway). I nearly tied myself in hysterical knots over writing *gasp* a SWEAR WORD in my LJ.
You do get better at it though.
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