Skip to main content

The voice of the unknown writer

I find that when I write that I'm able to quickly forget that I'm still actually just silly old me. I'm somehow and perhaps rather worryingly easily able to fool myself into believing that I've inhabited the mind of someone else entirely new. Someone instantly more likeable, even if the characters that flow from the recesses of my mind are in general always similarly deeply flawed and troubled individuals. 

I allow them the forgiveness that I cannot bestow upon myself. I write about their misdeeds and mistakes but readily admit that I've done far worse in my own lifetime. It's certainly easier to let them fill my time in a world where I have no desire to no longer be. I don't write about superheroes, just the average person you might walk past on any given day of the week. I somehow embody that person for an hour or two, I talk like they talk, act like they act but readers could be forgiven for thinking whoever I've embodied that it's still really just me in disguise. Sometimes they're correct, it's a poor thinly veiled act, but as I’ve already alluded to, I'm way softer on those characters and always too hard on myself. Maybe writing is a therapy or a doorway to finding forgiveness within myself? Except for now the door remains permanently locked although if that's true then I'm still the holder of the key and more than willing to let other people pass through. Maybe I've a saviour complex I've been too busy writing to admit to myself? As a side note I wonder if it is simply easier to wear the marks of the sinner than to try a day living the life of a saint? 

In centuries gone by we'd have told our confessions to the priest. The supposed anonymity of a dividing screen but they'd have certainly known and recognised your voice. Now I can be the inanimate object avatar with no obvious reference to my name, yet if you look hard enough you'll find that it's me because on some level we're all a little bit vain. Do the words read easier from a stranger or would you like to get to know the real me? Unlike millions of others I'd not take offence if you said actually you know what upon reading this I'll pass. You'll not be a genius to figure out that even I can't put up with me if I'm too busy writing instead. 

I carry the baggage with me from all the mistakes and the bad choices that I've made. Why can't I entrust them in the hold of a plane and find the airline has misplaced them all upon landing? Please, really, don't trouble yourselves trying to look it's no bother at all. I'll fill these new empty cases in no time I'm sure. I'd argue it's a skill, but bet your own money on it being a flaw. 

An apology is only valid if you recognise what you're apologising for. I've tried to lay down my box of matches and be the man that offers more. For every step forward some days I'll take a dozen or more back. Old habits die hard and near on impossible to crack. Thirteen years of sobriety just a stones throw away. Honesty is having no qualms about admitting trying to drink myself to death and the biggest regret is that I failed. If you asked me how I stopped the answer is my stubbornness at the core. Finally you admit to yourself that you'll never be the person that can drink just one, you're fully committed until others pass out on the floor. It's easy to appear as being sociable when you're the tractor with red diesel poured down your neck. Now I can't stand to be around the type of person I was and who I'm not allowed to forget. Acceptance is how you start to build change and find growth. I should have joined my tribe and built a support network but all the talk of a God I don't believe in put me off and now I'm isolated and too far behind. It's OK though because when I'm through being honest with you now I'll find someone I'd much rather be. I'll tell you what they think, maybe one day I'll have them talk about me. 

I am the dust drawn by a static charge to flawed individuals. Occasionally over the years I'll look at a man with a nice house, a wife and two kids and think that could have been me. Yet how do you lie to yourself when the lies I’d have to buy into are so easy for me to see? Bonne chance to all those who somehow managed to make it work. I'd write about you all but by ten you'd be tucked up safely in bed. One day you'll wake up and ask what was all the hard work for? The kids all grew up and left and now what's left behind the front door? The people you are now are no longer than ones you fell in love with before. Now you're two strangers, isn't it odd how you'd never noticed that before? The moral of the story for them is don't build your entire lives around those of your kids. Yet for some that's actually enough and then they'll happily carry on like ships that pass in the night. It's important to take time for each other and the person you once were before you lost your identity to become known as a mum or a dad. 

I'm the pharmacist dispensing great advice yet somehow forget to take any of it on board. My ratio of written words to spoken is as extreme as 500 to every 1. Do I write to simply try empty the words from the voice in my head? It might occasionally say something poignant, if by some minor miracle it does happen should I then apologise for stopping and making you think? 

If we could give ourselves credit where would we all be? Sunday I read the opening line or something I'd written, thought that's really good not remembering it was by me. It reminded me that I once saw a monochrome photo years ago that I loved and wanted to tell the photographer so. I checked to see who it was and it was from someone I know. I am the chimpanzee at the typewriter who might one day be capable of beautiful prose if they keep striking enough keys. Maybe I just need to step back long enough to forget that these things you see and read are all mine. Revisit with fresh eyes as part of my process of acceptance that sometimes I am so very capable of being wrong. Why is that so hard for any of us to readily admit?

Don't mistake me for egotistical, I'm of the firm belief it's not something that you can possess when you've no love for yourself. I liked myself far better when I was drunk. There written for all to see the lies of a writer with insomnia who'd fail to cry themselves to sleep. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What's your poison of choice?

He sat and watched intently as the woman on the table opposite sat stirring a spoon slowly round and round the mug in front of her absent mindedly. Even the clinking of metal on the porcelain couldn't stir her back to reality from whatever land her thoughts had whisked her off to. Her gaze on a fixed point somewhere behind him but whilst physically present, clearly she was deep in thought. Usually he'd have made a point to ask her to stop because the noise grated on him but for some reason with her it felt mean for him to do so. Besides in truth it wasn't doing him any physical harm and it gave him the perfect chance to study her face without her being any the wiser. He let out the briefest of smiles to himself as the thought flashed across his mind that he truly is as fickle as the next man. One rule for one, another rule entirely when it comes to pretty women.  Finally on some level her senses must have alerted her to the clinking sound and she looked down at the mug in s...

P is for pretentious and C is for...

Charles Callaghan sat down in his drawing room to partake in his daily ostentatious breakfast consisting only of two black cups of Grand Moka Matari Coffee made by Bacha Coffee served in a Hermés Cheval D’Orient coffee cup and saucer, completed with a print edition of the Financial Times. No one was exactly sure the precise point in time he'd slipped into being an utter cunt, but associates surmised it was probably around the summer of 2003. It hadn't been a laborious process on his part, he found it was a naturally occurring talent, some might even go as far as to suggest it was a God given one. Whichever it was, once Charles had discovered his niche he saw no reason to deviate from his position. If Charles’ behaviour was to the chagrin of his wife Penelope then she didn't demonstrate it outwardly at least. This may have had something to do with her weekly trysts with her horse riding instructor whereby the only thing being ridden was Penelope somewhere into next week much...

Pink candy floss kisses

From the ongoing series of observations from evening walks... Pink clouds hang statically across the horizon like candy floss kisses. A man checks his teeth in the mirror of a transit van, styles it out by saying hello to me and vanishes quickly inside his house. A man on a racing bike descends quickly down a hill living out his Tour de France dreams in his head with every pedal stroke. Another man cycles past with a red dome skid lid on and a yellow bag which says something about 20 litres of water. All he's missing is a coil of rope around his shoulder and he could join mountain rescue. Oh and a mountain of course in one of the flattest regions in all of England. A rather large man with receding hair pushed back into a pony tail slowly shuffles past. If he was yellow he'd look like the character from the Simpsons. I make a mental note to try and remember which one. It's the same mental note I make every time I see the guy and never remember to do it. On the other side of ...