Haven't Touched This in Far Too Long

Thankfully I've just had a bit of a rant. I'll edit and then post it. And I've got about half a dozen ideas that shall follow once I can think them through fully.

A Soliloquy

As one gets older, one remarks how time speeds up and yet one finds oneself increasingly struggling against the tides of fate and circumstance that wash one hither and thither. So much to do and so little time in which to accomplish it. The summer days which in youth seemed heady and eternal now march past almost before one has had time to spare a moment to dawdle in the sunlit streets and pastures.


One finds that those rituals and markers with which ones notes the passing of the years seem closer together, inorexably collapsing into one another and drawing ever nearer to that final, eternal stone marker which awaits us every one. What I'm trying to say is that the new Viz is out before I finished the last one. Fucking hell.

Spouting Incessently As a Father...

There are certain phrases that, when uttered by the participants of a TV debate show or conversation, fill you you with a deep and existential dread, a sort of heavy foreboding of upcoming awkwardness and bullshit. "I'm not being racist, but..." being the most famous, indicating that what follows will indeed be racist. Conversely "Not being funny, but..." usually indicates that what follows will indeed not be funny.

"At the end of the day, right..." generally means "You've just made a rather pertinent point that totally defeats my semi-formed argument and I need to bluster a bit while I decide whether to try and justify myself, get angry, restate my original point in slightly different words or try and figure out a way to make it look like I agree with you without anyone noticing my complete volte-face".

What all of these have in common is that they are cast-iron guarantees that the argument that follows can be easily defeated or safely ignored. And here we come to the fallback argument of those who really can't possibly justify their position through such fripperies as facts and reason: "Speaking as a mother..."

It usually is "as a mother", as well. I rarely seem to note "as a father". Which is weird as, as has often been noted, rubbish arguments and emotional bluster are hardly the preserve of the fairer sex. Either way, though, the premise of "as a mother..." is this: I have invested, through my actions, in the future of the world and my opinions are based on the long-term benefit of the country/world as a whole, rather than my own narrow self-interest." The implication being that they are selfless and therefore carry a greater moral weight than those of the selfish childless. That you should abandon your line of argument immediately as it's not based on anything like the depth of understanding theirs is.

This is quite patently a right old load of fucking arse.

Not least because the "as a mother" argument is mostly deployed when discussing the hot-button knee-jerk reaction topics, most commonly the marauding legions of ruthlessly-organised paedophiles lurking around every corner, and also the apparently unrelated problem of how horrible society is now that everyone's too afraid of being labelled a paedophile to go to the aid of a child if they see one alone and upset in the street.

It also seems to crop up a lot when terrorism and pornography get mentioned. Funny that.

The idea that somehow those who have bred are more moral and upstanding is clearly bollocks. Parents do immoral things on a daily basis, from the tiny to the monstrous. Look at the mass-murderers, dictators, tyrants, oppressors, newspaper proprietors and other assorted bastards throughout history. You'll notice that the one thing they don't have in common is childlessness.

(I note, goosestepping awkwardly round the edges of this discussion and adjusting his absurd moustache, the Twentieth Century's definitive bastard. Who was indeed childless. This is about the right time to point out that I shall be adhering rigorously, as my blog develops, to Godwin's Law and no mention shall be made of Adolf Hitler unless it is a) pertinent or b) funny.)

It's also absurd because parents are, under certain circumstances, completely irrational and capable of becoming so very quickly. It's a consequence of the natural instinct to protect your child. I know perfectly well that there aren't armies of paedoterrorists patrolling the streets and supermarket aisles of the country waiting for any opportunity to snatch a child left unobserved for even a second. I know that, it's true and will continue to be true no matter how many times the News of the World prints maps of where they are. Yet if I'm in the supermarket with my daughter and the picking of an item requires me to turn me back on her, however briefly, my heart is in my mouth.

What "speaking as a mother/father" essentially means is "letting go of my critical faculties for a second and letting vent to the most howlingly irrational aspect of my being..." Which should be enough for you to know to take what follows with a hefty dose of lo-sodium salt substitute.

Being a parent changes you permanently and profoundly. How could it not? But a demonstrably functioning reproductive tract does not give you leave to avoid backing up your arguments with facts and thought. On the day my daughter was born, I did not suddenly become any more moral or insightful than I had been on matters of politics and the big issues affecting us all.

In fact I certainly didn't become any more moral in any way at all. That's definite. Offer me the chance to behave really shockingly and I'll jump at the chance as gleefully as I ever did before parenthood. In fact, probably more so. The opportunities for foul and degrading conduct are so much more limited when you need to find a babysitter.

I Am Figuratively Quite Upset

I am fully aware that complaining about the meanings of words and how they change is a definite step in the direction of becoming the tedious whinging cockend that complains about how you can't use the word "gay" in its original sense anymore, even though they don't even want to use it but can't resist a chance to position themselves as the oppressed minority they invariably aren't.

Goodness. What a long sentence.

However, if there's one word that's really starting to grate on me through overuse and misuse, often at the same time, it's "random". It's become the word of choice for the twentysomething urbanite trying desperately to make their life sound more exciting than it is. It's a word that now seems to mean "unusual" or "miscellaneous". It's particularly grating when used as a noun: "I was in the pub with some randoms".

It's a word that appeals to the mind that likes mobile phone adverts, where charmingly kooky people do something vaguely artistic, creative and slightly unpredictable, while revelling in their charming and childlike innocence that shows they haven't lost their sense of wonder in the postmodern concrete abyss that surrounds them, soundtracked by something drippy and acoustic. Adverts that say "hey, urban life is alienating and unpredictable, but we give it meaning together and we surprise those grey suits surrounding us with how in touch we are with our inner children!"

I hope they all catch some form of hilarious bum disease.

Not far behind "random" in the list of words that make me feel mildly genocidal is "literally". "Literally" is a great word, and as this chap points out, is the only word that does what it does. "Literally", has a very specific and fantastic use: it's for when something that is normally a figure of speech actually happens.

That's fantastic.

It is not, and this is very important, used to provide emphasis. It does, in a sense, mean "really". Just not the sort of really it's generally used as.

If you are struck by lightning on a clear summer's day, you may say "it was literally a bolt out of the blue".

To say "I was literally drunk" is incorrect unless you are (or rather, were) a glass of water. You may not say "I was literally gobsmacked" unless you were in fact punched in the mouth.

And if you were, you probably deserved it. Unless it was random.

A Further Thought

As I described yesterday, the point of all this is to get me writing and thinking. I’ve got at least three pieces that I’m thinking over at the moment. Two of these, I think, will cover issues and points that have been fairly widely covered and discussed, not least by stand-up comics. This doesn’t bother me overly. Right now I’m not bothered about covering well-trodden ground as long as I’m covering something. It will still be my own opinion and phrased in my own way, but I’m not sure I’ll be unveiling any stunning new insight.

And The Point Of All This Is....

We have here the obligatory "what exactly are you trying to achieve here?" post. Every blog I've read has one of these. Why am I doing this? I mean, if there's one thing the internet doesn't need it's another self-aggrandising pseudo-intellect farting the products of their misfiring neurons into the world. Much of the content of this new-fangled interwebs is the sort of stuff that in earlier ages was denied the world by the merciful pen of the local newspaper letters page sub-editor.

And yet...

Essentially, I need to write. I ought to write. I don't mean that in sense of having some all-conquering need to write that destroys every other facet of my being, the Charles Bukowski sense.

(I read my first Bukowski book last week. I do not hang about with literary references. I'm terribly pretentious.)

I simply mean that I've fallen out of the habit of trying to do something with the imagination and sense of humour that I'm almost certain I possess, that my own indolence is annoying me and it's time I did something about it. I do believe that if you have any sort of a creative impulse, however slight, neglecting it will leave you embittered, miserable and forever wondering what you could have been. Hence; blog.

(I resisted the word "blog" for years. I hate zeitgeisty abbreviations and am only using it now it's fallen into common use as an accepted word. I am currently despising myself every time I use "app" in conversation, to the point I will often labouredly use "application" just to avoid "app".)

I have for several years dabbled in writing (loosely) and stand-up comedy (more enthusiastically) and have largely fallen out of the habit of both. It's no great secret that you have to write in order to write, and this goes also for stand-up. When you fall out of the habit of gigging, it gets hard to get back in, and the longer you go without gigging, the more impossible it becomes to get back into it. Consquently, without the pressure of a deadline (and the thought of an audience awaiting you is pretty much the most mind-concentrating deadline there is, short of the famously-described imminent hanging) the incentive to write falls away.

So then, the point of this is merely to get me writing and to put that writing up for some kind of public consumption. I will be writing what pleases and interests me, in the hope that it will give me some form of inspiration and direction. I should point out that writing to please myself does not mean I fit the old indie band cliche of "we're doing what we want; if anyone else likes it, that's a bonus". I want to create an enjoyable read, but that isn't the primary motivation. A self-arse-kicking is the main aim.

(It was always the most tedious bands that used that particular phrase, I seem to recall from my NME-reading days)

There is also the intention of allowing my thoughts room to play around. I have recently found myself wondering if the total absence of useable written and stand-up material I have produced lately may in some way be related to my social networking habits. I'm a shameless facebooker and am gradually developing a crippling twitter addiction. Nothing wrong with either of those, and I gleefully admit to enjoying both immensely. Not I, the cod-reluctant social networker. It's tremendous fun.

What bothers me is that it allows me to broadcast the small, insignificant and silly thoughts, stupid ideas and petty annoyances to the world immediately. Pre-facetwit, they would bounce around my head for a while, retreat for a bit, simmer lightly and frequently pop out as stand-up material or the kernal of a story. Not always good, but an idea, to be played with and re-thought until I did something with them or gave up on them. Now they form themselves into words, are shot into the ether, commented on or ignored by the world and swiftly forgotten by me. I do often wonder if by enjoying the momentary fun-hit of the status update or tweet, I'm denying myself something rather more useful.

I could just write and not tell anyone until I've produced something with a bit of finesse, of course. Unfortunately most of my writing habits have been coloured by the time I spent doing stand-up and I've found that by far the most effective way of getting my brain working is promising something to a lot of people and the fear of not delivering. That and the fact that I rather like the instant feedback that comes with stand-up, and thus putting my work on display rather than squirreling it away seems like the natural thing to do. I'm hoping that this blog is part of the process of developing some writing skills.

I often thought that if ever I wrote a blog, it would have to have a defined theme to prevent it descending into mindless navel-gazing. As if to prove a point, this blog has no theme and the first post has predictably consisted almost entirely of mindless navel-gazing.

Future posts, however, will be different. I have plans for a couple of reasonably serious politics/media pieces, in which I will try not to get too irate about the Daily Mail too often. There will be some personal stuff, and possibly, if I'm feeling daring, a review or two of things I have seen and done.

(Although given that I have a small daughter, who is ace, I am now seeing and doing less than previously).

I will at least try to be funny if at all possible.

The aim of this blog, then, is to get me over the crippling sense of self-loathing that comes with having a vaguely thoughtful and inventive mind that hasn't recently been put to any good use.

Of course, I shan't discount the possibility that in three posts or so I'll realise I have no talent for this sort of thing. Should this happen, I promise I shall quit with some dignity.