Door & a promising author!

The first week back at work after a 2 week holiday, and it seems as though I was never away. Of course work remains "a four letter word" and at the end of the day I still wonder how much value it has to the great scheme of life.
I mention this because for the life of me all I ever do is think of it in terms of material gain, with little in the way of spiritual enlightenment. Maybe that's just me; perhaps such a thought arises from it being a form of economic enslavement, which means we haven't progressed that far. Anyway, that's too deep a discussion to be having early on a Sunday afternoon, which I believe is supposed to be a day of rest and the question of work shoved deep into the dark recesses of what passes for a brain.
I spent a few hours with Door yesterday, Saturday, and we had a number of philosophical discussions, so quite serious, not that it matters. Mind you such discussions are full of pitfalls and Door's superior intellect shone thru' as it often does, I not being much of an articulate bod. Anyhow, that aside, as I take Door's words of splendid wisdom extremely serious, I spent the best part of the night wide awake, rolling Door's thoughts around in my head, which whilst suffering from the urgent need to shut down, also decided that sleep wasn't an option so I ended up in some kind of surreal no man's land. I'm not sure if I want to do that again, but at least it sorted out a few doubts I had, one being that my brain does actually function. Now there's a scary thought!
A few days before my bout of intellectual stimulation with Door I met another friend, who for some weird reason thinks I've got the potential to write readable books, and over a beer, or 2, decided we're going to publish the book I've written; a comedy based on a man trying to discover if he's ever been in love. I'm all for it, and my friend's very enthusiastic, well you are when you've had a beer or 2. However, will keep you posted on the trials and tribulations of publishing a book by a promising author; it's my blog and I'm allowed to dream.

"Door"

Life continues to be perfectly capable of turning everything up on its head, and making you realise, once you leave the desolated island you've happily inhabited for all your life, that you're as much a stranger to yourself as you are to those around you.

Such a realisation comes not from your own mind, how could it as you've managed to convince yourself that the way things have been are perfectly ok and that whatever you think is life is nothing more than your own minute version of it, instead it comes from a source that you've long admired and grown to love unconditionally.

I'm referring to "Door", not her real name but she knows who she is, a dearly beloved friend. As she adores cats, she often exhibits their particular traits, a delightful sense of play, a determined resolve, an independent streak, a level of deep affection, and then there are her "human" qualities, compassion, joy of life, acceptance of human weakness (mine amongst others), and a whole host of others. Whilst accepting that no individual is perfect, she's as close as it gets and the term "the imperfection of perfection" sums her up wonderfully.

Anyway, whilst enjoying dinner together last night, I'd cooked as it was a thankyou for her wonderful friendship, the conversation did what it always does when we're together, ranging from the absolute absurd to the very serious; both of us truly enjoy the ability we have for switching from here to there and wandering all over the place yet still manage to finish virtually every topic we've started.

After dinner time to relax came, and as you do certain topics arise that only get discussed when there's a very close bond between you. I'm not going to be specific here, but I'll just say that as a particular subject was being discussed between Door & I she asked me a question concerning "fear". I'd never given such a thing a thought before, mainly because it'd never popped up in the vacuum that constitutes a passing resemblence to what's optimistically referred to as a "brain!"

I really had no answer then, and for most of today as well. But the uncanny thing is that she may be right

And so my first blog on this site!


At the moment I'm on the 2nd week of my holiday, which means in a few days time I'll be back in the office, wearing my "professional" hat, answering the calls made upon my time, which might otherwise be better spent on doing more frivolous things, such as writing a new book, drawing another weird picture, or drinking even more coffee than I already do. Still that's a little time away and no more thought shall pass, at least for the moment, on the subject of work.


My great plan, in taking 2 weeks holiday, was to finish the book I've been working on for 18 months, off and on, and for some strange reason I seem to have hit an almighty brick wall and can't get my head around finishing the last chapter and a half. Why, I've no real idea, the ideas are there, and having already written over 50,000 words the finish should be in sight, and fairly easy. Maybe it's got something to do with having too little self discipline, I am on holiday and I might add thoroughly enjoying the rest and generally doing nothing; which when all said and done is the purpose of a holiday.


Of course, the thing is that I'll probably finish it by Sunday night, if for no other reason that it's now holding up the creative flow and I need to concentrate on something else. Where I next wander down "fictional lane" remains to be seen; I've no doubts that an idea, usually a very strange one, will suddenly appear for no reason at all and in the most unlikely place. Normally I write humourous books, based on the absurdities of the male species, but given the choice I'm leaning towards something serious, perhaps dark, although the thought of writing a horror story doesn't really appeal.


I'll finish there, Starbucks is calling. Strange place Starbucks; wonderful ambience, great for people watching, sitting close to the river, dodgy coffee...but then again...the American love affair with drinking the black stuff has never really taught them what a decent cup of coffee should taste like.