Man With Two Brains

Yesterday I visited my doctor for a check-up.

As part of the discussion I explained to him that I had started writing a blog that no-one reads, and submitting poetry to magazines for rejection.

“Oh. So was that your thing then? English Lit. and all that?”

Nope. I have a degree in physics and a medal in my sock draw for doing clever money things I choose not to do now for ethical reasons. And a certificate in basic food hygiene.

“Oh. So you’re one of these double-brained types?”

If only it were that simple.

“Oh. What’s the point of writing blogs that no-one reads or poetry that never gets published?”

You’ve got me there. Because I’m good at it?

“Good at what? Writing or not being read?”

Both. I intend to improve on both fronts though, and get so good at writing that everyone ignores me altogether. Right now four and a half people are quite pleased I’m doing this, which is too many. They need to take a chill pill and not give a shit either. The real reason for this is that it is great practice at not giving a crap. For everyone.

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5 thoughts on “Man With Two Brains

    • If I write “This is a note that no-one will read” on a piece of paper, then burn it, then it becomes true. If I write “This is a blog that no-one reads” in a blog post it is true up to the point that someone reads it, at which point it becomes false.It is therefore an entirely ridiculous thing for me to write. I have no way of knowing if it will be true or false, and certainly no say or control in the matter. Common sense suggests that we should not care unduly about things over which we have no control. This is an over-simplification, but it is an idea that is central to Buddhism, that ultimately we have very little control at all and too much “attachment” is unhealthy. I think most people understand that they are ultimately solely responsible for their own happiness, and not really responsible for anyone else’s. But on a day to day basis, the waters are constantly muddied. There is a tension between caring and not caring, or at least there is for me. It is in these conflicts and contradictions that I struggle with the impossibility of being human. This post of mine was riddled with nonsense and contradictions. I’m happy to contradict myself to try and express that conflicted nature of being alive. Poetry does this really well. Prose can be a little clumsy, as I am sure mine is at times. I think your poems, like “Wake Up Call” capture that kind of duality and uncertainty really well, and I enjoy reading them.

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