Hooray! Published again, this time with my name! In response to the question “Why are the preliminary races called ‘heats’?”, I sent in the half-hearted quip: “Because they’re just getting warmed up.” Fortunately, it seemed to make the grade, and lo and behold, I have my name the newspaper! OK, time to get off my high horse now…
In today’s “Big Questions” column of the Sydney Morning Herald, you will find a Big Question submitted by yours truly: “What is the probability that your car key/remote will open another car’s door or alarm?”
It wasn’t credited, so its not like I’m going to give up my day job for a career in writing, but its always a thrill to see something that you did in a major publication.
Yesterday, my very good friend Benjamin Lee was married to Joanne Low. The ceremony was very nice, and despite threats of showers, the sun shone magnificently throughout the day, with only a brief spate of rain at the reception, during which we were all safely inside the marquee.
Speaking of which, this rather ugly photo of me was taken mid-conversation – I have no idea what I was talking about. Whatever it was, I (right)�seem to be rather blase about it, and Tom and Jenni (left) looked a bit concerned. So anyway, feel free to come up with captions and post them in the comments. No prizes, unfortunately, except a rare opportunity to ridicule me in public without fear of retribution.
Hmm.. and no lyrics this time, but I’m pretty sure you know the song I had in mind when I wrote this post (hint: the title might have something to do with it…)
I think my last post was a little bit too controversial for some, so moving right along…
Those who have visited cyberseraphic before will probably remember the poem that used to sit on the front page:
A wanton youth spent in the sun
Chasing butterflies
Without a care in the world
Not knowing, not seeing
As she dances among the flowers
Lying awake at night, silent… still…
Straining to hear the faintest whisper
She sings a strange lullaby of things to come
Enticing, mysterious, sensuous
A storm of thoughts rages
Her shouts lost
Unable to carry her voice through the driving sleet of fear and uncertainty
Peering down from a dizzying height atop a cliff
A faint whisper in the wind:
“I love you”
In retrospect, I named this poem “the seasons of love”. It talks about the various phases that we go through when we fall in love with somebody.
In summer (the first verse), we begin as a child. At this stage, we don’t really know what love is, and we really don’t notice that special somebody because everything in the world is new, innocent and beautiful.
Next comes Autumn, the dawning of paranoia – does she, or doesn’t she? We exist as if in a dream, with a strong desire and hope for what is yet to come. Then winter, when we are asked to make a commitment. This is the final threshold to be crossed before we reach the peace of spring. We have reached the pinnacle of love, and although we feel afterwards like we are falling towards oblivion, there is still the echo of the past to remind us why we are here – and that even the faintest whisper can overcome the sadness we feel towards the inevitability of our destiny.
I can’t remember when or why I came up with this poem, but I certainly didn’t write it with this depth of meaning in mind. All of this stuff only came to me a few years later while I was sorting my old notes, entering them into the computer. This poem is probably one of the key pieces that convinced me that I wanted to be a writer, and so there it was on my homepage – while nobody else in the world (myself included) understood its meaning or significance. Well now I know, and so do you…
Some of you may be quite surprised to know that I take a very liberal stance when it comes to swearing. It’s a difficult topic to write about, considering that most of you will probably disagree with my point of view. But really, ask any high school-aged person what the f-word is and I’d say that all but the most prudish would be able to tell you (and even then, the prudes probably know but just can’t bring themselves to say it). In and of itself, that proves nothing. But you’ll find that as these words get more and more accepted into the general lexicon, their offensive value will begin to diminish. There are many words in general use today that wouldn’t have passed the mouths of any except the most filthy, vile dregs of society a few centuries ago.
Swear words have meaning. Sometimes, it is just more convenient to use a swear word rather than a longer word or phrase. For example, “bitch” is a word that is fast becoming widely accepted. Most people now wouldn’t bat an eyelid if they hear it (even radio and TV don’t “bleep” it out any more), and few would be able to think of an alternative way to describe a vindictive woman other than to call her a bitch. Of course, to say it to her face would be offensive, because people may not accept or recognise their own personality flaws. The point here is, swear words lose their potency over time, and what we find offensive now may not be in the (near) future.
Swear words convey the extremes of emotion. When was the last time that you felt “bummer” was an appropriately satisfying utterance for when you stubbed your toe against something so hard that it bleeds? It is an extreme situation requiring a suitably emotive response. Most would probably use a euphemism such as “shite” or “fudge” but it is essentially said with the same spirit, so should it be considered any less offensive? The great thing about language is that words can have intensity, eg. excellent => good => average => mediocre => poor. Why shouldn’t we use words of high intensity for intense situations? Being able to use the full spectrum of language only helps to colour the world that we live in.
Of course, where would we be without a song? Today’s post comes to you courtesy of the heart-broken Eamon, and his song “Fuck it (don’t want you back)”:
[chorus]
Fuck what I said, it don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw ’em out
Fuck all the kisses, they didn’t mean jack
Fuck you you ho, don’t want you back
How much less would the impact of this be, if instead he had used these lyrics:
[chorus]
Ignore what I said, it don’t mean naught now
Forget the presents might as well throw ’em out
Stuff all the kisses, they didn’t mean much
No way you tramp, don’t want you back
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