This is my Art
I've been thinking lately about the nature of happiness... imagine a year from now, N says. X will have happened, Y will have happened - won't that make you happy? And I always say yes. We are normally talking about things in our creative lives: writing and performing. But it's not just the production of 'stuff' that drives me, it's a bit of recognition too. Someone saying, yeah, that's good, I'll publish that. Or, please come and perform at our gig.
But that's not really happiness is it? Happiness is more than the sum of your achievements or peer reviews. What happens when things don't go the way you hope... does that make you unhappy?
It strikes me that as a writer you are never totally happy with the work you produce, but you have to leave it alone some time or you'll tweak the life out of it. You need a bit of faith... let it go and it will fly. Sometimes it will crash. Maybe you can mend the wings and let it go again. Sometimes the design needs to be a wasted one-off.
What is all this melancholy about? Could it be Violet having a moment again? Some competition, was it? Reader, I am transparent before you. In fact, I am Ultra-Violet!
Perhaps it's not the best weather for Violet to be flying about in. She normally does this stuff in summer when the sun is very sunny, but she has to learn to cope with a few scabbed knees and elbows and be grateful. Not every girl can fly who wants to.
My first five months of being Violet have resulted in one quiz win and one raffle win. Not great, but I do think Violet is beginning to learn that winning and happiness are not always found together.
Anyway, I've got two surprise gigs this weekend that I have to prepare for. In the meantime I will leave you with my little poem all about the tricky task of getting people to love 'you'.
Seal of Approval
The trainer felt the sweat on his back
cool and pool as slime
as he dangled a mackerel by its tail.
Whiskers twitched.
Nostrils opened... and closed.
He knew the judges were waiting,
losing patience.
Suddenly, one broke cover
waving his numbered card
like a white flag of surrender.
The trainer did not need to see the score.
The crowd whispered too loud to hide the vowel sounds
or their glee.
He looked down into sad, black eyes
that stared up as if to say why don't you let go?
Let it go now
But he lifted the fish higher and screamed - no!
You turned round on the spot three times,
balanced a ball on your nose,
and played Oh Susannah on the horns.
But I ask you to do this
the easiest trick
the one that seals are meant to do best
and you won't ruddy well do it.
Well, sod you then.
I don't need you or your applause.
And with that the trainer left the ring
taking his dead fish with him.
But that's not really happiness is it? Happiness is more than the sum of your achievements or peer reviews. What happens when things don't go the way you hope... does that make you unhappy?
It strikes me that as a writer you are never totally happy with the work you produce, but you have to leave it alone some time or you'll tweak the life out of it. You need a bit of faith... let it go and it will fly. Sometimes it will crash. Maybe you can mend the wings and let it go again. Sometimes the design needs to be a wasted one-off.
What is all this melancholy about? Could it be Violet having a moment again? Some competition, was it? Reader, I am transparent before you. In fact, I am Ultra-Violet!
Perhaps it's not the best weather for Violet to be flying about in. She normally does this stuff in summer when the sun is very sunny, but she has to learn to cope with a few scabbed knees and elbows and be grateful. Not every girl can fly who wants to.
My first five months of being Violet have resulted in one quiz win and one raffle win. Not great, but I do think Violet is beginning to learn that winning and happiness are not always found together.
Anyway, I've got two surprise gigs this weekend that I have to prepare for. In the meantime I will leave you with my little poem all about the tricky task of getting people to love 'you'.
Seal of Approval
The trainer felt the sweat on his back
cool and pool as slime
as he dangled a mackerel by its tail.
Whiskers twitched.
Nostrils opened... and closed.
He knew the judges were waiting,
losing patience.
Suddenly, one broke cover
waving his numbered card
like a white flag of surrender.
The trainer did not need to see the score.
The crowd whispered too loud to hide the vowel sounds
or their glee.
He looked down into sad, black eyes
that stared up as if to say why don't you let go?
Let it go now
But he lifted the fish higher and screamed - no!
You turned round on the spot three times,
balanced a ball on your nose,
and played Oh Susannah on the horns.
But I ask you to do this
the easiest trick
the one that seals are meant to do best
and you won't ruddy well do it.
Well, sod you then.
I don't need you or your applause.
And with that the trainer left the ring
taking his dead fish with him.