The
Joys of Text ©
By
Michael Casey
Well
I must be on a roll, I read back Do What You Can which I wrote earlier tonight,
instead of watching the Brazil match, and I really enjoyed it. You see it’s only
when I finish a piece and read it back in its entirety that I know if I’ve hit
it on the nail or have I missed it. If you like I choose a target to write
about and fire my words on the page, not quite like a blind man or a
blindfolded man, but rather I’m in a tank with limited field of view. So when
battle is over, or when I’ve ran out of words,
as I step back or emerge from my tank I see the battlefield. I can see
the results of my hour’s labour, and each piece usually takes an hour.
It’s
then that I enjoy my text, my words on the page as I read the full thing back
to myself for the first time, it’s the afterglow. Just as after a workout in
the gym you feel so good, as you stop and head for the pub, or enjoy Stella in
the changing room. By which I mean a can of Stella Artois in your gym bag, not
unless you have a close relationship with Stella your gym coach.
Words
are real fun, as I read it back I can feel if I have made my point, or have I
failed. Failed is too strong a word, remember what I write about is randomly
chosen by me. So if I pick Pain Relief Gel, I’ve just looked at my tube of
Movelat in front of me , that’s why I’ve
randomly chosen that to explain my point. So if I chose that then there may not
be as interesting a story to tell than if I told the story about being trapped
in the toilet on the Paris to Calais express. At least I remembered the French
for Help I’m trapped inside the toilet.
So
the random choice of story effects the quality of the story, I hope the quality
of the writing is always high, by the way my pain killers don’t add or subtract
to the writing. I might stop to slap on the Movelat gel, by the way buy shares
in that, otherwise I’ll carry on writing till I die, or till a North Korean
Army girl spirits me away to her flat above the undertakers. I always tell my
Shanghai wife I’ll run away with a Korean girl. She just laughs and reminds me
she turned down a millionaire for me. Yes, Love is blind and stupid, or maybe
we are each other’s punishment from God,
discuss all you philosophy students out there.
As
you can see surreal ideas are a joy to me, it’s like finding another can of
Stella in the back of the fridge when you thought it was empty. Or a cake in
the cupboard when you wanted something to go with your coffee before you finish
writing your thesis. I am of course a PhD, but you guessed already. Maybe the Novichok was in the back of a fridge, the bad
boys hid amongst the least of our brethren in Salisbury. But we will never
know.
The
thing with words is that you can build and rebuild with them, they are Lego,
and Lego is never ending and Danish. Which is not Legover in a Danish, that is
something entirely different. The sprinkles would get everywhere. As I write
this I realise I am Ronnie Corbett’s and
Joyce Grenfell’s bastard son, am I turning into Gerald Wiley again?
I
also like the fact I can mix the sacred and the profane. Would you listen if I
was too sacred, or too surreally profane? I think not. But if I add a spoon
full of sugar then the medicine does go down, please stop calling me Julie,
call me Julian, Sandy does all the time. Sandy does what all the time? Never
you mind it’s nearly time for bed. I’ve given you two tonight, maybe I’ll give
Sandy 2 tonight as well. Two mugs of
cocoa, what did you think? You are all so easily led. The ink still hasn’t
dried on my PhD, I paid 2.99 online to the University of Donald Trump for it.
Ok,
I’ll really go to bed now, thanks for reading my rubbish, feel free to pay for
it on Amazon, 16 books worth
ok,
please yourselves as Frankie Howard once
said in Up Pompeii
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