Monday, August 01, 2011

Resurrection and comedy


Hullo. Hullo invisible people that probably don't exist. After a mammoth 19 month break I have decided to write a new message here. Many times over the previous months (years) I have thought what I assumed might be interesting thoughts but I've shelved them, sucked them down and drowned them in my own bitter tears. The meaning of everything is always confusing for me. The why and the need to do almost anything that doesn't involve food. Even sleep is optional I tend to think. But yes, I think I'm going to write some more things here, for my own personal amusement (that's all it ever was).

In my absence I have recovered from my long-standing injury (8 operations/procedures - I'm not sure operation is the word - it wasn't that dramatic. I am tempted to reveal all now that I am fixed. But no it wasn't piles, and no it wasn't brain cancer. Something quite mundane in retrospect though thoroughly painful.) Bla bla. For another day.

I moved house. Bought a part of a house. Moved into a state of constant financial panic. Had a job for 15 months then the contract ended. Had another part-time job - both teaching ESOL. Then got made redundant from that one. And it felt like I was living and sleeping and eating lesson plan ideas. Money and teaching seemed like the only things that mattered. Sleeping as well. Sleeping was popular. The theory of sleeping anyway as I often - due in part to my own stupidity - I didn't have time to sleep. Who wants to go to bed as soon as they come home? Working evenings then the next morning and commuting 50 miles every day can get to be a bore.

Did I do anything else? I did some internet dating, but I've retired from that now. I didn't do any writing worth speaking of. I finished my last novel. I had an agent who really REALLY wanted to read it. I sent it to him and then like a total twat he never ever replied to me ever again. As he had been waiting 2 years for it he might at least have said, look, Mark, I'm really bloomin disappointed with how shit this is. Instead he just ignored me. It was very odd. I've started a bunch of plays and had ideas for all sorts of novels but not got much further than that. I have loads of notes.


I started a play called 'Loving the Immigrant'. It was about kinky sex, Polish people, deception and probably didn't have a very good plot. I did like bits of it though. I started another play called, 'Because they had no choice' or perhaps 'Self professed profound/. It was about conceptial artists and deception and love and sadness. This has a plot but is confusing me at the moment. Also, I'm not entirely convinced that my ideas really 'fit in'. I see a lot of plays that, well, to be polite, aren't my scene, man.
I started writing a teenage novel about a bunch of intellectual youths that create a monster out of one of their classmates. They're a bunch of geniuses and want to see if they can radically change the look, behaviour and character of one of the failures in their class. It's like a Frankenstein/george bernard shaw pygmalion thing. but more scientifically based.

It actually sounds quite interesting now I write it down. I'd read it. It's a question of whether I can write it. I lack focus and the whole working thing means I end up doing a tiny bit of this and that and never finish anything. Really I should re-write my previous novel cos I liked it quite a bit and it is too long. Bla bla. Talking to yourself is quite useful it seems.

One thing I need to learn is how to write shorter posts. One topic at a time.

I have done a comedy gig. That will be my next post. The reasons why, the reasons why not. What happened. Just for the record, y'see. Comedy and jollity. Ha ha ha ha etc.

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