If you’re not familiar with the format of this blog- if you’ve just joined us- you might not know that this a blog about being habitually single, being ordinary and chronicling my attempts to walk a bit faster in the rat race so that I fashion a life of fulfillment. However in the face of that I should make a confession. I feel I should add- at the risk of boring my readers- that in fact for me trying to be more successful should not be a priority. Yes I court success- measured as sexual happiness/finding a partner, scoring career goals and financial security, going to nice places, doing exciting things, surrounded by friends and so on... But I can’t help feeling personally that that is all a bit of a red herring. Above all I crave a world where people are kinder, more honest and more responsible and I know that starts with me. You might say the two are not mutually exclusive and I hope they are not but I fear they are all too often. We often think achievements in art, sport and career are important. We get carried with all this. Truthfully, I think they are in no way interchangeable with honesty, kindness and responsibility. These just seem like fine words until you begin to realise that often you lash out at the world when your dreams are threatened and become dishonest, unkind and irresponsible. In China they all think they should have a dream. But a dream is something you need to wake up from. As I continue to write this blog I’ll try to show how tough moral choices have to be made and how I’m actually a bit half hearted about the success game as we know it.
Anyways...Saturday met Sue in Folkestone, then Burlesque in the evening. But what is there to say? Ok,bigger stepped in dog turds in Folkestone than Margate and a busker playing ‘Love in song’ by McCartney was a surprise. Would definitely not have thrown 50 pence in his guitar case if he’d been playing BOTR or JET. Stephanie claimed town centre was 25 minutes walk. Wasn’t even 10. Little things like that baffle my logical side. I don’t think it was reluctance on her part. We chatted about the ghost venture in a cafe. She wants to do a stake out at Pluckley Woods. Shook her left hand with my left hand as her other had a cigarette in it. Limp shake, possibly limp meeting. She sounded a bit like David Beckham. “As I say, Folkestone used to be better than it is now,” she said with small variation several times. Added on Facebook. Her profile pic is one of her holding a cigarette but not possible to say which hand.
Burlesque was a bit brash. The entertainment for the masses version. Burlesque body, Panto chassis. There was a Chinese woman all dressed up in 20s finery on my table who throughly enjoyed it, tho. One joke from the compere: ‘This is my mother I’ve got something to tell you outfit.’ There was a topical joke about Scotland and Rolf Harris but I forget what they were. One that applied to me, calling Margate ‘Housing Benefit Office on Sea.’ The Winter Gardens theatre is another legendary theatre. Beatles played there 3 nights in a row and Gerry and the Pacemakers playing in October. Very grand interior, over looks the sea. Blah blah blah.
So to last night, I think I had a realisation. I had a bit of time to think because my door continuously slamming neighbours downstairs were having a party and it ran ’til about 4.00 AM. Then the fire alarm went off and didn’t stop until about 8. The realisation has been churning for a few weeks but last night it really felt settled. In a sense, I’ve always lived in a fantasy world. I’ve imagined that a life that feels like it’s got underway will materialise. But it hasn’t. It’s true that as unemployed layabouts go, I have some exciting projects on the side. A novel, a film, an album, a documentary, two GCSEs, a bit of Chinese self-study, 50 odd short stories on the go and this blog to name about half the things I’m working on. But these can break as much as make me. My refusal to focus on any particular one, but instead switch between them and Yahoo cat videos and hours of Youtube hasn’t helped. But where is it all going? The realisation was- I suppose- that I’ve got to step up a gear. I know I can do it. It will take a level of maturity and concentration that I’m not exercising as yet. It’s a bit like Liverpool. They can either step up to the plate or they can watch one of the real contenders hold it aloft. But whichever way I slice, dice it, mince it or marinate it (to use the full expression taught me by Rev Q) I can’t rely on psychics, a sense of entitlement or hope to see me through. I’ve got to focus diligently and patiently on hard stuff and not expect results this season. In case you’re thinking this clashes with the first paragraph- no, no, no. Not completely. In my chaos, there is order. That diligence includes doing all the responsible and honest and kind things too. I hope.