All aboard, my bloginary friends, and gather round as I pull in this drift net from the ocean of my thoughts.
Let us see whether the teeming iridescence within is to be filleted and feasted on, or mere oily plastic figments of my base imagination.
Watch as I unleash my squirming haul on to the gleaming salted deck, to sort the usual mix of minnows, flounders, slimy eels and the odd juicy cod.
Ugh, let’s cast those ugly eels back quickly into the oceanic abyss.
Yes, you are right, I am not sure what to write about.
Actually, it’s more I cannot really write about parenting things so freely these days, now our two children are teens.
There are daily dramas and compromises aplenty — and lots of good things too — but, really, all things considered, our two are thriving.
Him and his football and her and her bulging social diary and clothes and make-up expeditions with her gal pal pack.
So different, and so much in common.
Her musical journey alone is amazing. With no thought to genre or fashion, her drift net is landing its own teeming iridescence.
You cannot imagine my joy when she told A the other day about this really interesting singer she had discovered on Spotify.
“Nick Drake, ever heard of him, Mom?”
“Oh, yes, he’s one of Dad’s all-time favourites.”
If Drake’s heart-rending tale is not a call to get one’s act together and work on the good stuff before it’s too late, then how about the article I was reading this morning about the short life of Irish singer-songwriter Mic Christopher, friend of Glen Hansard and one-time partner of the brilliant comedy writer and actress Sharon Horgan?
A documentary has been produced about him and that is what the article was about.
Few of you will have heard of Christopher, who died aged 32 back in 2001 in Groningen in the Netherlands after falling down some steps after playing a support gig for the Waterboys.
But he was a talented guy, and his gorgeous song Heyday achieved posthumous acclaim, not least on foot of being used for a popular ad for Guinness, called “Quarrel” that featured a then unknown actor named Michael Fassbender.
Fun fact: the ad was shot by Nick Kelly, the singer-songwriting force behind the wonderful Fat Lady Sings, and who turned to advertising to earn his crust when music became his secondary career.
The documentary, called Heyday: The Mic Christopher Story, features contributions from Hansard and a host of talented people who knew the singer-songwriter, but ultimately were galvanised by his death into working hard on turning their potential into achievement.
Like Hansard and Horgan, who was Christopher’s girlfriend when the newly-buoyant songwriter had moved to London on the crest of the creative wave that produced the posthumously delivered and much-loved Skylarkin’, his first and only solo album.
I have only seen the trailer and look forward to watching the documentary itself.
So much for first and second chances, and riding the crest of creativity and discovery.
These days my own creative crest and momentum are more akin to that of our dog Lily, our already legendary bundle of joy and positivity … well like her when she does that hilarious tail-chasing routine of hers.
Have you ever watched a dog chase its tail?
As a spectacle of the absurdly gormless, it’s right up there.
Faster and faster and faster Lily goes, a tightly-coiled blur of ever-increasing momentum, a furry black axis of frenzied rotation locked into an impossible quest.
She will never catch that flexible extension of her backbone, no matter how fast she goes, or how much she refines her technique, or subtly recalibrates her axis of rotation, and eventually, wild-eyed and thwarted, she decelerates to a panting halt.
She looks up at me, to where I am laughing out loud, with an expression on her that could be interpreted as Buster-Keatonesque comic deadpan, or just plain dumb and uncomprehending.
But dumb and uncomprehending is for others to decide … Lily just chases her tail sometimes and then stops.
And the lack of success never seems to bother her.
Besides, it’s a brilliant little centrifugal workout.
But I feel like that sometimes, working away, spinning faster and faster, trying to balance demand, outlay and income, and squeezing in a little downtime before I rise again the next day to do it all again.
But hey, there are moments of transcendent happiness and fulfilment, which makes me think that heydays don’t just belong to the young, or to artists realised or unrealised.
Because heydays can be short or they can last forever.
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- My Word Of The Week (#WotW) us HEYDAY