Bollocks!
Right, I really don’t want to do it, now is absolutely not the right moment as for all manner of pragmatic reasons I should be getting together an-honest-to-goodness pitch for the novel I’ve been working on, not to mention the fact that I’ve just embarked upon a suicidally large attempt to read every major modernist novel ever written about the break up of the Austro-Hungarian empire ( a surpsingly large number), none of which appear to be under a thousand pages, at the rate of one a week, with my beardedly intense workmate Chris, plus of course I’m trying to learn Russian, and Spanish, and socialize a bit more, and go to the gym, and do some extra hours at work….
So now is absolutely not the right time for me to write a long blogpost about David Lynch, is it? given how much of my waking life this will consume for the next X number of weeks/months, which will be read by about three people (and which will certainly leave me feeling dissatisfied), especially as I will feel obliged to re-watch all of Lynch’s movies again, including “Inland Empire”, which I didn’t like, (I will when I watch it again though won’t I? EXACTLY as I did with Lost Highway which now lives in my IMAGINATION in the way only Lynch can!) but the soundtrack to which I’ve recently been playing obsessively.
Really a bad time to embark on it, except I have no choice. Sorry, what was that? I was thinking about David Lynch, there. On the way to Tesco’s for bogroll I’m practically muttering to myself in the street. Drifting through seventeen pages of “ The man without qualities” (again) and it’s all-Lynch-all-the–time, who cares about bleeding Ulrich. What a fucking pain in the arse. Why has it come upon me now? It’s been gestating away somewhere down there for years and now it wants out, writing is but midwifery! Fact is I’ll have no peace till I do it, and then only a modicum after. For I am constituted thus!
I’m going into Lynchville now, I may be some time…..
Right, I really don’t want to do it, now is absolutely not the right moment as for all manner of pragmatic reasons I should be getting together an-honest-to-goodness pitch for the novel I’ve been working on, not to mention the fact that I’ve just embarked upon a suicidally large attempt to read every major modernist novel ever written about the break up of the Austro-Hungarian empire ( a surpsingly large number), none of which appear to be under a thousand pages, at the rate of one a week, with my beardedly intense workmate Chris, plus of course I’m trying to learn Russian, and Spanish, and socialize a bit more, and go to the gym, and do some extra hours at work….
So now is absolutely not the right time for me to write a long blogpost about David Lynch, is it? given how much of my waking life this will consume for the next X number of weeks/months, which will be read by about three people (and which will certainly leave me feeling dissatisfied), especially as I will feel obliged to re-watch all of Lynch’s movies again, including “Inland Empire”, which I didn’t like, (I will when I watch it again though won’t I? EXACTLY as I did with Lost Highway which now lives in my IMAGINATION in the way only Lynch can!) but the soundtrack to which I’ve recently been playing obsessively.
Really a bad time to embark on it, except I have no choice. Sorry, what was that? I was thinking about David Lynch, there. On the way to Tesco’s for bogroll I’m practically muttering to myself in the street. Drifting through seventeen pages of “ The man without qualities” (again) and it’s all-Lynch-all-the–time, who cares about bleeding Ulrich. What a fucking pain in the arse. Why has it come upon me now? It’s been gestating away somewhere down there for years and now it wants out, writing is but midwifery! Fact is I’ll have no peace till I do it, and then only a modicum after. For I am constituted thus!
1 comment:
if its any consolation i just spent an inordinate amount of time writing something i didn't need to write and the world didnt't need to read (and indeed won't), whilst ignoring a tedious but vital administrative task. consequently i am consumed with self loathing rather than the sense of achievement i was hoping for.
plus the gyms closed and my friends have left the pub.
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