I’m going to cheat, I don’t really want to, I’ve no real excuses it’s just that, well, you know. Cheat yeah, no, not on my wife, on myself and my self-inflicted deadline thing that I’m currently wrestling with every Monday. I’m entering week 3 of the Artists Way, Julia Cameron’s 1992 book that according to the inside sleeve, started a movement. It has apparently “inspired MILLIONS of people to demystify the creative process and open up opportunities for growth and renewal.”
It’s given me a fucking headache.
I have entered into full-on curmudgeonly, doubter mode. Utterly convinced that the ‘creative process’ doesn’t need demystifying at all, it needs avoiding at all costs.
Talking of ‘costs’, why am I even wasting my time writing this, when I should be trying to find a job that pays me actual MONEY? My overdraft is looking at me with furrowed brow *adopts scouse accent, think Barry Grant from Brookside*
Are yous fukin’ messin’?
Here’s Barry and Jimmy from Brookside having a brief discussion, for the benefit of those of you who have no idea what I’m on about.
So yeah, clearly I am the king and queen and probably the entire court and kingdom of avoidance.
Which is what attempting The Artists Way is supposed to help me with.
Discipline, writing every morning, completing various tasks, being ‘accountable’ to a group of fellow avoidance merchants when we meet at our weekly group.
Not listening to our biggest critic(s) which not surprisingly is me of course. It is showing me that I need to avoid ‘crazymakers’ and other such poisonous playmates, suggesting that such people are a big part of my problem, when it comes to fulfilling my creative purpose. I can tell you with complete certainty that there is only one thing ‘blocking’ my creative journey and he’s currently writing this sentence. I am the problem, I am always the problem and will always remain the problem if I don’t accept that I am.
There are 10 basic principles to The Artists Way (yes yes, I know, it all sounds a bit like that other ‘fellowship’ I attend) one of which suggests that
“Our creative dreams and yearnings come from a divine source. As we move toward our dreams, we move to ward our divinity”
Which is nice.
But is it though?
If the source of my creative dreams and therefore the narrator/writer is as angry and generally fucked-off as the numerous diatribes that seem to flow from this font of despair and disappointment, laid bare as my clumsy fingers attack the keys of my laptop, I don’t think I’m all that interested in moving toward it at all.
‘It’ is like that unhinged, probably on dangerous drugs and clearly mental person that gets on the loser-cruiser (bus) and makes you move and sit next to someone not as mad as them.
That person.
I don’t want to move toward that at all, there’s enough of that sort of behavior here in Dalby Square. If I want to hang out with rage and broken dreams, I only need to go to the park opposite my house. A lot of the kids round here are so feral, they make an angry grizzly bear look like pleasant company.
Here’s a thought that literally just occurred to me though;
Are any of those kids as angry or disappointed as I currently seem to be?
They have no expectations to be shattered, they all seem perfectly happy being annoying little twats with their disposable vapes and man-bags.
Whereas I? I am clearly about as serene and comfortable as Nigel Farage at a non-binary yoga class.
I hate self-reflection sometimes.
I wish I could avoid it, but it would seem it’s actually part of my avoidance.
For fucks sake.
Here’s a new song that Hightown Pirates (version 105) will be performing at the first (almost) full band gig in nearly 5 years.
Thursday 23rd November at The Tom Thumb Theatre here in Margate.
Bye for now, the curtains need ironing.
THE SILENT AGE.
SHE SMILED LIKE A FILMSTAR FROM THE SILENT AGE
HER WORDS THEN CUT ME DEEP WITH COLD HARD FACTS.
STOP LOOKING FOR WARMTH IN COLD PLACE SON
YOU’LL NEVER GET THE LOVE YOU DID NOT HAVE.
I LAUGHED PRETENDING THAT I’D LISTENED, PROMISED TO CLEAN UP MY ACT.
THEN SET OUT ON THE LONELY ROAD. SEARCHING FOR THE THINGS I’LL NEVER HAVE.
I GOT A PART-TIME JOB, FULL-TIME BILLS, THE WRONG KIND OF MEDICINE
TO CURE MY ILLS.
KID’S GOT MORE DATA THAN HOPE AND THEY’RE BORED WITH OUR SCENE
WON’T SOMEONE THROW ME A LINE?
APOLOGIES FOR NOT REPLYING SOONER, I’VE MOSTLY BEEN IN BITS
A WEEKEND OF BAD DECISIONS OFF MY FACE WITH SOME JESUITS.
THEY TRIED THEIR BEST TO SAVE ME, A CONSCIOUS OBJECTOR TO THIS LIFE.
I’M BUSY TRYING TO SELL MYSELF BULLSHIT, WHILE HAGGLING ABOUT THE PRICE.
I GOT A PART-TIME JOB, FULL-TIME BILLS, THE WRONG KIND OF MEDICINE
TO CURE MY ILLS.
KID’S GOT MORE DATA THAN HOPE AND THEY’RE BORED WITH OUR SCENE
WON’T SOMEONE THROW ME A LINE?
BUT DON’T DROWN ME, IF YOU FIND ME, IN YOUR DREAMS.
THERE’S KIDS HAVING KIDS IN THIS DOG-EAT-DOG WORLD WHERE THE GIRLS WHO LOVE BOYS WHO ARE GIRLS WHO ARE BOYS.
YEAH, THERE’S KIDS KILLING KIDS ‘COS THEY DON’T KNOW THE RULES, BUT THEN NEITHER DO I AND I’M NOBODY’S FOOL.
GOT A FULL TIME JOB BUT I WON’T PAY YOUR BILLS I WON’T TAKE THAT MEDICINE BECAUSE IT’S MAKING ME ILL.
WE GOT BAD INFORMATION AND WE’RE BORED WITH THE DREAM
WON’T SOMEONE THROW ME A LINE
BUT DON’T DROWN ME, IF YOU FIND ME.