17-18/04/13
For the past week or so my customary reluctance
to write has turned into a refusal to write, since I had nothing new to say
and, besides, I had other things to do and, more importantly, be, including a pretty engrossed
reader of a library book on Germany from 'Lonely Planet', which has taught me
so much I didn't know before, even when one finds oneself skipping over several
pages – information on restaurants, hotels, nightclubs, and the like – on a
regular basis, as one often does with this kind of book.
Interestingly, they always supply, in this
'Lonely Planet' guide, the population of the cities, towns, and even villages
of
You could spend a lifetime travelling around
Germany produces – and this opinion owes
nothing to the above-mentioned guide – the best films in Europe, and when
Germans act in American films, as they sometimes do, even American films are
improved, or rendered less predictably violent and brash.
There are certain things I am extremely
reluctant to write about, so I don't.
If I were to tell them everything about myself,
they'd probably kill me or throw me in jail.
I am, in spite of this, no Rimbaud, to have
written a couple of (questionable) books or, more correctly, collections of
poems that were subsequently turned into books, like A Season in Hell
and The Illuminations, only to pack it in for some other
vocation or profession. Nor do I make a habit of doing other things whilst
still claiming to be a writer, like, say, Albert Camus. I despise dilettantism,
not least in regard to the general British attitude (inveterately hostile) to
writing and, for that matter, to writers, at least if they amount to anything
original and thought-provoking. They may prefer reading, but someone wrote the
books they read, including writers living in
Living in England is, by itself, enough to make
one a reluctant writer, though not necessarily, as in my case, because one is
primarily a thinker or, for that matter, because the depiction of one's
immediate circumstances and experiences don't necessarily make for enjoyable
writing or pleasant reading but tend, on the contrary, to embarrass and disgust
one....
I would no more copy a film (DVD) into my
laptop that featured a bowtie-wearing jerk than … write a novel or other work
of fiction based on such a person. In fact, I doubt that I could, or would want
to, write anything remotely resembling fiction, these days, anyhow.
Once writing gets a hold on you it never lets
go. Sometimes you are the one who is written by it.
I write, therefore I exist … in a broadly
chemical way.
I read, therefore I exist … in a broadly
physical way.
I speak, therefore I exist … in a broadly
metachemical way.
I think, therefore I exist … in a broadly
metaphysical way.
There is no single way of existing, not even in
'literary' terms, and no person exists – barring twins or so-called Siamese
twins - in exactly the same way and to the same degree as another.
I exist to give … as a writer;
I exist to take … as a reader;
I exist to do (or act) … as a speaker;
I exist to be … as a thinker.
I exist, therefore I give, I take, I do, or I
am.
The Philosopher may exist to be,
but not anyone else within the literary world, least of all the Dramatist, or
Playwright.
Doing and giving are more female than male;
taking and being more male than female. In fact, doing is most female and least
male, since metachemically absolute, whereas being, by contrast, is most male
and least female, since metaphysically absolute.
Giving, on the other hand, is more (relative to
less) female and less (relative to more) male, since chemically relative,
whereas taking, by contrast, is more (relative to less) male and less (relative
to more) female, because physically relative.
Unlike doing and being, which are noumenal (or
ethereal) antitheses, giving and taking are phenomenal (or corporeal)
antitheses, and therefore subject to comparative as opposed to superlative
distinctions. One could, if one wished to complicate matters, write doing and
being with initial capitals, as though to distinguish them, in this respect,
from giving and taking, pretty much like the Devil and God vis-a-vis woman and
man.
To wake up one morning only to discover that
one had not been woken up by hammering, drilling, banging, scraping, and other
such horrible noises, but that it was perfectly quiet, with not even the sound
of a goods or passenger train passing nearby. One rubs one's eyes, looks around
the room, as if to ensure that one hasn't died and gone to Heaven, but no! One
is very much alive and lying in one's own bed in one's customary bedroom. And
then, all of a sudden, the noises return, not from next-door, as before, but
from up the road or down the road or across the road or in some adjoining or
nearby street where more building or renovating is now taking place. But at
least it is not right next to one at present, even if one can still hear it
from afar!
Alas, even that is not the case today, and I know I must endure yet another
day of mental torment at the hands of crass workmen and carry on with my life
as best I can, still reluctant to write, not least about all this, but having
little or no alternative, since if I stopped writing altogether … it would be
as though in consequence of them, of the workmen next-door, and philistinism
and brutality would have triumphed. Never! I shall outstay, outlive, and outwit
the sons-of-bitches, come what may. And maybe, just maybe, one will wake up to
discover that one's life is no longer subject to such dreadful noises, but is
actually more akin to Heaven. A nice thought, but living in
I have swapped a green notebook for an orange
one, i.e., one with a pale orange front cover, and the next one, when I have
filled this, will doubtless be another notebook with a pale green front cover,
and so on, in alternating vein. Somehow, this suits me, as a person of mixed
Irish descent, just fine.
Wir Sind Die Nacht is one heck of a beautiful film! Simply
awesome in every respect, including, not least, the music. Who said film music
was boring? They evidently haven't been watching the right films!
I despise people who eat cake that has no icing
on it.