Author: Gordon

Father, husband, feminist, ally, skeptic, blogger, book reader, geek. Always sarcastic, imperfect, and too cheeky for his own good. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 He/him.

The days slip away

Rise to the chime.

The bleary eyed shuffle and the morning ablutions.

Take your pills. Dress yourself. Brush your teeth every day. Floss not often enough. The scold of the dental hygienist awaits!

Then to the bus. Then to coffee. Then to my desk.

Computer screen glows from black. The cogs whirr into life. Around me a cacophony of tapping rises.

Good morning. Good morning. Good morning. I say. I am well. How are you? I am good, and you? Verbal tennis, the expectation of politeness.

I stare at rows and columns, words white on black. I sit in rooms and listen and talk and listen and talk. The clock moves in fits and starts. Taunting me for moments, racing through others.

I am working. This is what I do. I am pay my bills. I laugh. I anger. I do. I do not.

Then I am done, outside as the bus sweeps to the kerb, ready to take me home.

I shed my work with each foot fall on pavement, leaving it behind me. I will find it in the morning. Most of it at least.

Another day.

How is it May?

Only one

“Ask yourself if you would do it if nobody would ever see it,
you would never be compensated for it and nobody wanted it.”
– Ernst Haas (via)

There must be a reason I write. I write here, I write in a journal, I (don’t really at the moment) write short stories, and I (definitely not at the moment) am writing a novel.

I write.

All of it because I want to, for me and my own personal reasons which I’ve mentioned here before, at least that’s how it started.

Reading that Ernst Haas quote made me realise one of the reasons I’ve been a bit blocked on my novel. During NaNoWriMo I wasn’t thinking about anyone reading it, I was writing for me, writing to meet a target number of words every day yes, but it was (and still is) a first draft that no-one will ever see. I was writing a story I wanted to read.

However having let it sit for a while, which was always part of the plan, I find myself revisiting it with the expectation (hope?) that it will be read by others in the future. It wasn’t a conscious decision and it hadn’t even occurred to me until that quote sparked the thought in my head.

I’ve mentioned On Writing, the book by Stephen King that really helped me get my head into the right place to tackle NaNoWriMo, but I’ve forgotten one thing that he is very VERY clear on.

You write for one person, and one person only.

So that’s what I need to do, finish the first draft in the same vein I started it, write it because I enjoy writing, write it to tell a story that I want to read. I am my own constant reader.

My own comfort

Despite what I might try to insist, to myself and others, I prefer my own company to that of others.

That’s not to say I don’t enjoy being with other people, those that I love, and those that I like enough to tolerate (I kid, I kid!) but when I’m feeling in need of comfort I tend to look to myself.

I put it down to spending the first 8 or so years of my life as an only child.

Back then I learned to lose myself in my own imagination, later transferring that skill to reading and I revelled in the silence that that solitude brings, lost in a page turner, oblivious to the passing of time with only myself for company. Bliss.

I sound like a curmudgeon, a grumpy hermit who shuns people.

I’m really not like that and most of the time I like nothing better than to be in the company of someone I love, or people I care about. I enjoy being out and about, chatting nonsense over a drink, or sharing stories over coffee (or vice versa, of course), often with the futile hope that those moments won’t end.

They always do, of course, and then I’m back to being alone with myself and the familiar comfort of me.

When I think of comfort I don’t tend to think of soft blankets, down filled pillows or luxuriously soft leather chairs, I don’t think of hearty meals rich in carbohydrate and protein that warm me from within. When I’m feeling low, regardless of the reason, I don’t think of others, I think of me.

That makes me sound selfish and in those moments I know I can be uncaring and brutal.

Fuck this and leave me alone, I’ll be fine. Go. I’ll be fine.

Away from noises I can’t control (stop breathing so loud!), away from distractions that break the reverie (why can’t you sit at peace!), and away from my desire to be accommodating of others in any way, shape or form, I lose all will and energy for patience and compromise. Birds are singing too loud, car engines are revved too much, the scrolling clouds that change the light cast into the room torment me. Everything that I can’t control is wrong.

It’s an odd sort of comfort I admit; being able to switch off the part of my brain that has me double checking things. If I get up from the sofa I don’t need to check if anyone wants anything whilst I’m up, I don’t need to ask if anyone minds if I change the channel on the TV, nor if it’s ok to just sit in silence and read a book, no interactions unless required, no niceties, impolite and brusque.

I’m glad I don’t seek this comfort often.

It’s an odd thing really, it’s at odds with the rest of my personality, the part of me that everyone can see, the part of me I identify with is outgoing, friendly, and I hope kind and considerate. When I get up I’ll ask if you want anything while I’m on my feet, I’ll double check plans to make sure everyone is happy with them, I will compromise myself when I can to make things better for others.

That’s me, not the horrible, blunt, silent lump I can be at times.

But that lump is still me. Those thoughts of silent comfort, hidden away from the world still persist, they are part of me every day. I’m glad that most days I barely register having to put those thoughts away, but I acknowledge they are always there.

This is who I am.

When you aren’t around, when everyone is gone, I only think of me.

Getting back

For the last few weeks I’ve been battling a chest infection, it’s still lingering but the worst is past. The reason I know this is that last night I got annoyed at the state of my kitchen and cleaned it for the first time in a few weeks, yup it seems I can assess my ‘wellbeing’ by my desire to tackle the things that annoy me and how much I want to do ‘something’ rather than just sitting about.

So, as I’m definitely on the mend – even if I’m not at 100% just yet – now is the time to get back to where I was which, given that it’s almost May, isn’t quite where I’d hoped I’d be this year. No, I don’t mean New Year resolutions, more the usual type of desires and habits I’d hoped to have stuck to which I’ve not.

Writing wise.. well, not so much with the writing. I had been keeping up with my Day One journal but that’s fallen away, and let’s not talk about the novel I’m trying to write which, it seems, is still percolating in my head. I don’t know if I’m not happy with the plot or just need to get my head down and finish writing the damn thing but it’s telling that somewhere in the back of my brain I’m not satisfied with how it is at the moment. But then again I guess that’s the point of a first draft, to explore the characters and make improvements on the rewrite.

Health wise, chest infection aside, I’ll fess up and admit I’ve been over lazy and eating, well, everything! A nice long walk with some friends a month ago was the last real exercise I’ve done and I’ve not really been watching my diet so it was no surprise when the scales announced the increase in my weight over the last couple of months.

Upside is because I no longer drive to work, I am walking more during the day, especially up and down stairs in the office, every little helps!

Equally as I’m starting to really notice my lack of flexibility I’m going to start with a simple regime of stretches every day. 7 mins a day, should be do-able, right? After that I can look to other forms of exercise but I’m determined not to do my usual which is to rush into things. Slow and steady and all that.

Anyway, step one is this, write a blog post. So if nothing else, I’ve managed that.

Quick wins people, quick wins.

Slow West vs DC

I watch a lot of movies, if I have a couple of hours free I’ll usually watch a movie than regular TV; although I’ll admit that Netflix has changed my habits there quite a bit, but then many of the shows that they are releasing – House of Cards, Daredevil, Jessica Jones – en masse are essentially just a longer movie chopped up into episodes.

This weekend I went to the cinema to see Batman vs Superman, a big blockbuster special effects superhero thing. I also watched Slow West (on Netflix), an independently budgetted movie which won some awards at the Canne Film Festival (I think).

The difference, outside of budgets, special effects, storyline, setting et al, was striking. Strip both movies back to their essence, and they are both simple stories with only a handful of key characters.

In Slow West we follow the journey of a young man from Scotland as he travels into the American mid-west in the late 1800s to find his true love, who fled there after a tragic event.

In Batman vs Superman we follow the journey of an old man as he travels to meet his ultimate enemy in Superman who has himself been through a tragic event. We also follow the journey of a young man as he starts out on his own journey to discover what it means to be Superman.

The scale may differ – in Slow West one man dies, in the Superman event thousands die – but the premise is the same.

Alas at this point things start to differ and that’s largely down to how each film was directed.

In Slow West, thanks to some excellent pacing, acting and direction, we become finely tuned to the hopes and dreams of the few main characters; we learn about their pasts as the story progresses, we go through trials and tribulations with them, share their pain, their desires and, when the end comes, we are as complicit in it as they are.

In Batman vs Superman we struggle to tune in to the few main characters as we jump from set piece to set piece, each marking a trial and tribulation but from which we get no output or payback, so we don’t buy in. We get close to understanding the ageing Batman, but not close enough. Similarly we can see that Superman is struggling with his own world view but, again, we aren’t really allowed more than a reference to hang our empathy on.

It does feel a little like it was directed by checklist, rather than by emotion – “Show that Superman is conflicted, check. Show that Batman is determined, check” and on and on. Ultimately, I don’t really care about any of them.

Looking at other superhero movies (from Marvel) we are allowed enough time to learn without being directed, and we empathise enough to care about the characters. Marvel cleverly allowed the main characters their own movies so to bring us on the journey, so by the time Avengers Assemble rolled around we already care enough about the characters, we have a connection. They are doing the same again before each Avengers movie.

And maybe that’s where Batman vs Superman went wrong (ok, ONE OF the areas it went wrong). It was too soon. In the ‘Justice League’ universe, we’ve had one Superman movie – itself a turgid affair that was more about spending special effect budgets than creating any sense of wonder and compassion for the man in the red cape – and then we are straight into an ensemble piece featuring their two big heavyweight characters – Batman and Superman – and then everyone’s favourite Amazonian Goddess joins the fray (not to mention the three other characters we see hints of as well). She will get her own movie as well but maybe they should’ve done that one first?

Slow West was quiet at times, it used humour smartly to reduce tension, and allowed the characters to be vunerable and human. It was a subtle movie that walked you through the story and the set pieces, when they arrived, were well paced and never seemed forced. It’s a single movie, not part of a larger universe, but the same rules apply. Let us learn about the characters in isolation before you through them altogether.

To that end, and again I think Marvel have this figured out. You aren’t just filming a single movie, each movie in the universe you are recreating has to be sympathetic both of and to the others, and the character arc is just as important over three or four movies as it is within one. Why show us Wonder Woman now when we don’t know how she fits or what her motivation is? (aside from ‘she likes to fight and ‘do the right thing’).

There is one moment in Batman vs Superman (featured in the trailers as well) that hinted at the potential this series could have. A reconciled Batman and Superman stand behind a recently arrived Wonder Woman as they prepare to launch into battle. Superman turns to Batman and asks ‘is she with you?’ to which a perplexed Batman replies ‘No, I thought she was with you’.

It’s a tiny moment and the kind of thing the Marvel universe has nailed. Amid all the melee, throw in a couple of lines to let the audience pause… alas the Justice League universe looks like it will continue to focus on special effects, large set pieces and little in the way of levity.

I read the Batman vs Superman series many years ago and it was a favourite at the time. The dark world of an aged Batman confronting an ageless Superman, the comic book included many throwaway lines. The movie has ignored these, much to its loss.

So, if you get a chance stay in, fire up Netflix and watch Slow West, a wonderfully dark, odd, and beautiful movie, then come back and tell me what you thought of that ending!

I have a switch

The switch doesn’t make a sound.

From on to off and back again. Proximity is all that’s needed to tumble the switch and I am who you see.

Then when the world retreats again I switch back.

It’s more noticeable, to me at least, when I’m tired. The music choices change, different tracks are skipped.

If I’m tired I head to melancholy, long assumed to be my resting state, my natural place. I like it there, it’s familiar and comfortable. A soft blanket on a cold day. The soporific warmth of the summer sun carrying me away. I don’t see it as a bad place these days, I’ve made my peace with the quiet noise in my head.

When well rested I become more of the person most people think they know, I wear the mask of me far easier. The persona doesn’t tire me as much, resistance drops and the music kicks up in tempo and volume. I have all the spoons I need.

Hmmmm, I wonder if I could measure my mood by BPM? Higher, faster, SCREAM FOR MORE!

By the same logic I know I can sometimes hack my mood. A building tempo, thumping bass, and I can feel my outgoing, laughing and joking recklessness pulse into my veins with every beat, pulling my heart along in time to a happier place.

I like it here too, thoughts are lighter. Things are better, easier, not as easily weighed down by the what ifs.

Such moods are quick, a light breeze changes my course and with it a new mood is revealed. Floating on a current of happiness, with love in my sails, I never veer too far from this route these days, but there are always storms ahead, whirlpools and crashing waves that try and tip me over.

I turn the music up and the sea calms once more.

Every night I sleep on clear waters, the gentle sway soothes me.

Every morning I wake and wonder which me I’ll be today.

Not that you’d know.

The proximity sensors kick in, the switch flips. It doesn’t make a sound. You never know.

I am always the me you know.