Daily Archives: 10 July, 2009

Don’t come into my head

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In spite of an earlier post (which, to be honest, I just can’t be bothered to find), there is, after all, another side of me.

It is well hidden from the rest of the world. It is dark. It is gloomy. It is cold. It is like a deep well, with straight, slippery sides that go down to the centre of the earth

It’s not a new thing that has happened recently. Rather, it is an old thing from way back, if not all my life.

>I keep it in check. I know it’s there and I know it has power over me but I try to push it back. So far, I have succeeded and sometimes, holding on to the reality that ‘is’ rather then the reality that very well could ‘be’, is a struggle.

If I am honest with myself, I have relied on V too much. The first time I thought that, perhaps, he ‘didn’t really understand me’ (although, given that I keep it quite well hidden, why should he?) was about 6 or 7 years ago. It sticks in my mind. Although I often have the feeling of being lonely whilst with others, I had never really felt this with V until this time. It was his response – ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be alright’, in an unconsidered way, that made me feel all alone. Strange how these little things stay with you, isn’t it?

It’s the overwhelming feeling of dread; of panic; of impossibility that gets to me. Of course, like my imaginary conversations, the things do not exist, except inside my head. Or maybe they will exist? And there’s the rub.

Sometimes, I feel, I want to take my brain out, give it a good wash and get rid of these stupid things which cling and grow like some sort of fungus on, say, an apple that is going bad. In fact, in the Tate Modern, there is (or was) a video film that I really loved which showed a bowl of fruit over a period of time, going bad. The fungus started as specks and grew and grew as the fruit collapsed and became smothered by it. I wonder if I loved it because it was how I feel about my brain?

There are times, when some good thing happens that this deep, dark well seems many miles away and other times where I am already in the well, clinging for life by a finger of one hand on the edge of the well; looking behind me and down to the bottom which, without doubt, I cannot see because, without doubt again, there is no end; no bottom; I shall just keep free-falling forever.

And, if in previous times, when I hang so precariously, I have come back from the brink, it may have been because of some (misguided?) sense of responsibility to others around me (for example, V). Right now, what is the reason that I should fight it? For whom? And wouldn’t it be easier to succumb to the inevitable and allow myself to let go and slip into the darkness without a care in the world?

Sounds a little depressing, I know, but you should be in my head for a moment! Or, rather, you shouldn’t.

The voices in my head

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the_voices_in_my_head_by_uberpup

Alan Bennett, with the exception of the one monologue I saw with Mrs Bucket, has never really been one of those authors I would wish to read. I don’t know. It’s a bit like Hockney or Lowry. It’s a form of racism on my part, I suppose, against people from ‘The North’.

It’s not that they look any different, although they seem to, once I know they’re from the North. It’s when they speak. I apologise to those of you from the North (and here I should stipulate that it’s not the North in general but, rather specifically, Lancashire, Yorkshire and parts of Cheshire and Derbyshire) but I’m afraid the accent really doesn’t do it for me – and I lived there for a number of years!

So, although I wasn’t so interested in hearing him at the Hay Festival this year, I went because, if I am being frank (and here, if nowhere else, I should be so), I thought he was dead already or, at least, nearly dead and I further thought that if I didn’t see him now, this time, I probably would never see him.

And, as I posted (or twittered, or told someone, or something like that) he was, actually very good. He is old and pasty (but then, to me, he’s always seemed old and pasty – so no change there) but he didn’t look like he was going to die any time soon and, for good measure, he was well worth seeing and hearing.

>He was highly entertaining and his flat, monotone, Northern accented voice was quite perfect for the short extracts of stories that he told. It made them seem funnier; gave them an edge that, related in a different voice, would have been missing.

When I got home, as I was about to finish ‘We Need to talk about Kevin’, for the umpteenth time, the next book I picked up was Untold Stories! This was quite freaky. If you had asked me a month back, if I had any books by Bennett, I would have been certain that I had not even one.

I suspect that this came from L, one of the many books that she was giving away when she left Milan for London.

I am enjoying the book and find it both interesting, funny and an interesting historical book – historical in the respect of it being details of the minutiae of ordinary life which, of course, is not ordinary at all at a time that is seemingly (and is, in fact, truly) my early years of life. But then, he is a storyteller. I would probably write something like:

My mother became ill. I ferried my Dad to the hospital very often. We didn’t really talk that much. I did find out, however, that my Grandfather who, supposedly died of a heart attack actually committed suicide. I was quite shocked.

He does not.  For him, of course, these are a load of pages with descriptions and details that go to make up a complete picture.

It’s interesting that, as I have posted before, it’s the voice that really works for me. As I read the words on the page I can hear him saying them; the same dry, flat voice with that Northern accent, that makes the story more real and more alive. Whereas, with most voices that I subsequently read, it’s the enjoyment of the voice itself that is the key, I’m afraid I cannot quite say that I find his voice enjoyable per se but, still, the voice does make the story. Of course, that’s only in my head

And from this (and more recent posts and another to follow) I am becoming increasingly concerned that everything that I find worth blogging about seems to be in my head (even if there are slight connections with the real world). Either my head is very large to contain all this rubbish or my ‘head life’ is taking over from real life!

Showing my true feelings (not)

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I am confused by my feelings. On the one hand I am angry – very angry. On the other, I couldn’t care less. On the one hand – ‘I never want to see you again’ and yet, ‘It’s your problem, you deal with it’.

And the stupidness of the whole thing beggars belief which is why there’s a part of me that couldn’t care less.

In addition, of course, one must take into account my stubbornness. I wonder if it’s a trait that I have developed because I am stubborn or because I am Taurus since, although I take Astrology with a pinch of salt, I do enjoy the fact that certain people (those who believe) will immediately see me as an Earth sign and that I like my home comforts, good food, good wine, etc. and as having positive traits?

>Indeed, I see them as positive traits too and am pleased to have them. But, did I see them as positive traits because that is what I am supposed to be or because they are positive traits? Even stubbornness I see as positive!

Anyway, back to the issue. I will do….precisely….nothing. Of course. I will neither say anything nor do anything although I might do less than something that I should and, therefore, by my inaction, make an action. In fact, the problem will fester with me for, possibly, quite some time. The inaction on my part to do ‘the something’ that I should, may continue beyond even that, as it may have become a habit and I shall do it without really knowing why or, even, that I am doing it.

And there are also other, related things that, in future, will now happen or, rather, that I shall do or not do as a result. Many (although, at the moment, I can only think of the one) of these will, probably, have a detrimental affect on me – the old ‘cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face’ thing, at which I am a practised master. I have, after all, had 40+ years of experience at it. Or is that the stubbornness thing really?

If it is the stubbornness thing then it has nothing to do with being Taurean (unless you believe in that stuff) but all to do with how I was brought up and, possibly, my genes – which all comes back to my parents. But don’t get me wrong, they are not to blame for this but, in my opinion, to be proud of this.

If you believe in this stuff, then the fact that I am Taurean makes me stubborn anyway and there is no talking to you.

And, the funniest thing about all this (although ‘funny’ is not really the right word) is that the person who is both the cause of this and the victim (if, again, that is the right word) will, in all probability, know nothing of it but might think me a little strange for a while.

There, that shows them, doesn’t it!