Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. —E.L. Doctorow
You have to be brave to write poetry or fiction,[and I don’t mean fear of criticism,] because all you have ever felt,experienced or studied can be drawn up into your consciousness whilst you write.
A friend of mine who is a writer put it like this.”It has taken me to places I’d rather not have gone to.” However she said she manage to live through it.At the time I had only written mathematical works so I didn’t understand what she meant.But I have now had some experiences which give me a hint of what she was trying to say.If you’ve had many fearsome experiences then these feelings may come up when you loosen the grip of consciousness.However I have also found a spirit of laughter in me which is new.Step into the darkness without knowing.It’s only by going there that help may come.But the fear is that it won’t.You can’t get an insurance policy beforehand.
Are you stepping into a void or will there be something there?
Also in drawing or painting it can take courage to draw what you perceive.I found that especially when drawing buildings and studying perspective.I’ll see if I can find a drawing to illustrate it.I have the feeling,”No,No.It can’t be this steep a gradient.It’s too much”
And in being inside a building like Westminster Abbey or Durham Cathedral trying to assimilate the vision,the huge spaces and the power and size of the shapes can create awe or even terror.One can lose one’s sense of self entirely.But it can also be revivifying when one has returned.The fear is that one will not return.
Maybe it’s the same with relating to people as well..intimacy can make one feel and be vulnerable.
I must confess that the world situation plus a few personal things are making me feel very low and I didn’t feel like writing anything here..but I love alphabets and the history of alphabets so I loved the poem by Karl Shapiro
Images made by me using Microsoft Paint program old version
Your skin glows like an old lemon which someone left in the fridge for two years or more.
It blossoms as rudely as the nastiest weeds in springtime.
My yearning heart rises to your thunderous voice and leaps like a pig at the whisper of your name,Hardknut.
The evening ascends like a lion riding on a great Kentucky Fried Chicken Wing.
I am calmed by your old vests that I carry to clean the car headlights with in fog
And I hold them in my hand when I have run out of Kleenex tissues.
I am filled with dismay that I may need to dry your tears of shame with old worn out knickers
Yet you ignore mine as ever.You appear to forget I am a woman.
As my right eye falls down onro my blue shawl,alas it reminds me of our unmade blue bed once more.
I shall not forget it for my self esteem is low and falling
and it’s a year since I changed the sheets.
In the hushed yet noisy night,I listen for the last tweets of the autumn and look forward to an icy winter of miscontent
sleeping with the cats on the internet highway
My overheated heart leaps into my hot green mouth.
My lipstick is fading away with shock.
I wait in the faint moonlight for your secret bank check
So that we may strive as one mad being
in search of a golden ring
Symbolic of ambivalent married love that has passed its sell by date
But still has some intrigue remaining.
I never met anyone as dreadful,sweet and ugly as you.
I love you,Nameless.You are mine forever
Or so I believed foolishly..but I prefer a cat now.
Mary was feeling a bit off colour.Then she found a scary looking thing on her neck…
Stan,she moaned,come here!
What is it my duck.Stan cried.Are you alright..
No,Mary replied,I just looked in the mirror.
Well,dear,you still look young to me,the dear old man replied… still I suppose it must be hard for someone who was o nce very beautiful.
No,it’s not that,she responded faintly.
What is it then?Did you see Satan?
Not directly,she told him gently… but I saw this funny looking thing on my neck…
Have your lovers been biting you,he enquired caringly.
Stan,I have no lovers.
I find that hard to believe,he replied.
I am your wife,she told him.
Are you really?I forgot…Well,if you’d like a lover I am ok with that.I am getting past it.
Well considering your behaviour you have not got a leg to stand on….
Mmmm, he murmured,I am a man,you see.
I know you are a man… I married you for that reason.
How kind.If I went in for a sex change op,how would you feel?
How would YOU feel she said.They won’t be wasting money on that any more.Why you have to wait 6 months for cancer ops.
Only if it is a “non-worrying cancer” which nevertheless
” must be removed before it invades the nearby structures” they reminded each other.
I am wondering if this thing which you claim is a love bite is in fact a cancerous lesion…
I know.I was wondering.And they’ve not done the first yet.
I think we should see the doctor.
I want to do more than see him.I’d like to speak to him.
What will you say?
Hello,you are my doctor,are you not?
That’s a bit pedantic..
Take a decco at this thing on my neck,which by the way is not a result of having sex with a vampire.
Do you always decide what to say before you go?
No,I usually write my concerns on a sheet of paper and hand it to him, being as I am a disordered avoidant personality.
That’s a good idea as he hates people rabbiting on.
Yes,he told me off for asking how he was!
How he was what?
That’s just what he said.I say, are YOU the doctor?
Just because two people say the same thing it does not follow that they are the same person.
But it is a strange coincidence… is it not?
Well,I suppose I’d better ring the surgery.
Hello, we are closed right now,Please go to Hell.The doctor has gone mad…
Did they really say that?
No, he can see you at 11 pm tomorrow in the woods…
I can’t wait…
Well,said Emile,you will have to wait.That’s what you always tell me…
Emile,you are a very intelligent cat.
Thank you miaowed the furry beast in a jolly voice.
May I come to the doctor’s with you.
Wait and see,said Mary rudely.I have a lot on my mind . I am getting too irritable . I might upset somebody.
A lot of people get irritable when stressed,said Stan
Yes, cats do as well, concurred Emile.. then they scratch holes in the carpet and gnaw the furniture….
That explains a lot,Mary said.I think you need a tranquilliser,Emile…. even cats can have nervous troubles…You may need therapy if we can afford it.Then you can study mentalising and read Peter Fonagy.What fun that will be,not.
The Lord’s my shepherd I’ll not grunt.
Was a Jew’s lamb lingering here,in England’s green unpleasant land?
O praise ye the sword,its works to proclaim.
While leopards rung their blogs all night
Oh,run all ye faithful
Pale St Joseph poor and mental,God has made thee a cuckold.
We worship our bling,its worth we proclaim
All people that on earth do smell
Silent night,wholly light
…. call into Boots later.
[You may sometimes see ads here to make money for me.]
And an angel appeared to Mary and spake thus
And she replied.Oy vey.
You will be bare and wild
Sorry,the wrong script… you will bear a child.
So what’s so odd about that.All women do it…
Well,that’s what is in the telegram.
But they’ve not been invented yet!
Oy vey! Amen.
What an angel,what a wife!Poor Yussif
The process of writing is clear
As mud that is mixed with black beer.
Just recollect some words
And write down what you learned….
With nonchalance,then, persevere.
My old man was feeling so drear
>He dived into a barrel of beer.
He swam to the edge
And perched on a ledge..
He complained that there wasn’t a pier.
Have you ever felt you were behind a pane of glass? I did once many years ago after a friend committed suicide.It must be a protective condition but it is painful and odd.Everyone else seems ok ,you imagine,but you are not a part..In reality many people may be feeling like you do and putting on a performance while out at work or socialising.We are probably wiser as we grow older as we know more people better and see we are not unique in our suffering and pain; we know that feelings pass,even the worst ones and we may have become better at judging others and knowing if friends die by suicide it’s probably not our fault
When one feels that way it has to be accepted for the time being, like all feelings,I found reading poetry helped me and also being with others in a group where I could sit and listen without pressure to speak.I like this poem from then.It was a favorite of Simone Weil,the mystic.
LOVE BADE ME WELCOME by George Herbert
Love Bade Me Welcome – from Love (III)
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back.
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.
A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungrateful? Ah, my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.