Don’t worry about the story or idea making sense before you’ve written it. Write the damn thing and you’ll find a way to make it logical after.
Life has no answers. The consequence of our choices is our only reminder that what we do can matter, but doesn’t always
Millennial-titus: symptoms may include swelling of the head, relating yourself to glitter, sparkles or unicorns, and overzealous use of hashtags. Am I old, jaded? Am I mourning the sunset of my youth, my uterus barren and tits sagging? Has my vag withered after cleaning up my husband’s giant rectal pile expulsed all over the bed, leaking to the mattress cover, but thankfully not onto the mattress? Yes, to all these things. But I digress. I love you millennials! I love that you’re so easy and yet so hard to please. I love your tight bodies and your energy (I’m going to siphon it from you somehow), your shame you, for shaming me attitude. Calling out people on social media and not in real life, and not knowing the difference between the two anymore. You truly are #special!
It’s that special time of year when we get to be morbid and confusing and think about the death and resurrection of the Easter bunny. Kids now a days are sheltered and don’t think about their mortality enough. So let’s pile in the car in our best impression of a normal family and put in our face time at the local rabbit hole. As we sit there I wonder, only 14 stations of the cross? I feel it could be drawn out a bit more. But still it’s pretty impressive they fit it all into an hour. Easter is also my favourite religious holiday to contemplate my awaiting eternal damnation. Christmas, AKA Santa’s birthday, comes in a close second. Is it getting hot in here? Why is everyone wearing their coats? Good Friday being a statutory holiday, means we can start our weekend binge drinking a day early, that’s whats good about it. So as you line the pews to save your soul and fulfill social obligation in a little over an hour, remember, a family that’s afraid together, stays together.
The baby on the floor is surrounded by toys, but all she wants is that which is out of reach. We are born to covet what we don’t have, and it doesn’t go away with age. Desire is an evolutionary instinct that’s responsible for our prolific and diversified gene pool, and more then enough food on our plates. I wouldn’t make it your purpose in life to covet a neighbour’s wife in the name of a diversified gene pool, at 7.4 billion I think the pool is deep enough. Desire has a bad reputation but it’s saved our species. At the same time it might be the instinct exploited by corporations that will drive us to extinction. Desire creates healthy competition, gives us energy to excel at a passion, the want to be a better person and ability to experience pleasure. A favourite quote of mine is “desire leads to suffering” I feel like I’m seeing for the first time, that might be bullshit. It’s not the desire, but the inaction towards what we desire that leads to our suffering. Suffering is static. Suffering is the recognition and reflection on our own stasis in a circumstance we may feel powerless to do anything about. We are suffering at the hands ourselves. Our own cowardliness to make decisions in our life, instead we wait for things to happen and decide for us. The best things in life come from people being dissatisfied with circumstance and life and doing something about it. Dissatisfaction can ignite the id and fuel creativity, channelling dissatisfaction into action. Wow i sound like a motivational coach. I am not a motivational coach. Is the need for instinct becoming extinct? Will one day everything we want be within our reach, having no need to reach towards something we perceive better. Our instincts will become obsolete, as our desires become more manufactured. As much as technology is supposed to improve our society it has created a culture of the dilute and shallow instant gratification. There is danger of having desire and fulfillment in such close proximity all the time. Instant gratification has it’s place but getting Mcdonald’s delivered to wherever I happen to be, I can do without. Every answer, every food, a plethora of sexual experiences perceivably at our finger tips..numbing our instincts with too much choice, and killing our ability to resolve our own suffering and experience desire beyond the functions on our smartphones. Is technology shaping our evolution or evolution shaping our technology? From now on when I find myself telling my kids to be happy with what they have. I will instead challenge them to take action to resolve their complaints, and then take my own advice.
The title of my book (for now) “Invitation to a Funeral”, is like putting a roof on my house, under which words shall be arranged, rearranged and rubbish brought out to the curb. The minor structure becomes significant as it’s shaping a goal for myself. To complete a novel. Success defined not by publishing but the act of completing a readable long story. It’s as much about the cliche journey as the cliche destination. For myself anticipation can be better then the end result. I find food mostly looks and smells better then it tastes. The seduction can be better then the deed. The deed better then the relationship. It’s what the fuck boys got right……..I digress, really a roof on a house is not minor at all. Does the name of a book carry that much weight? Being that books are renamed and relaunched, I guess so. A price change or relisting a house, makes you think. Excuse the house metaphors, but we are currently in the process of selling/buying, you guessed it, a house. By the way, if you are even thinking of buying a house in Stratford Ontario, consider it was once called the the meth capital of Ontario. Just putting that our there. My life right now is busy. So busy in fact I rarely get a chance to commit myself to writing to more then a few minutes a day. This goal of writing a novel has the potential to take decades at the rate I’m going. I’m spending more time ‘writing about writing’ then writing the elusive novel. I like to keep busy though. I want to think about anything, except maybe one particular thing……. how vague and mysterious. And when I find myself alone with my thoughts, I use them to fuel my creativity. The secret to saving yourself, stay busy, distracted, creative and if a moment of cruel clarity comes to you, use it, don’t let it use you. But what does that even mean? Where does the act of using begin and being used end? I don’t know either. Like most things you need one to have the other. Who am I writing this for anyway? Well easy, me. If anything, it’s my therapy. Who am I posting for? That’s more complicated. The same people we all post for on social media. For each other. We’re all fucking peacocks now, showing our feathers. Warhol did say we would get our 15 minutes, social media however has created the most dilute version of it. Who wants to drink that kool-aid? All of us apparently.
because a ‘crazy cat lady’ without cats is just a crazy lady…..(the cats somehow make it better?!)