I would like to take this opportunity to reflect upon and hopefully find an echo in the eloquent sentiments expressed by Annie Q Syed on her twitter blog. In one area of her writing she refers to the process of ‘chilling out’ and relaxing in New York City on a Sunday where she says she ‘wraps the stillness of Sunday morning around a pen and puts part fragments on paper’. Lest we consider this process as leading to easy reflection and relaxation, she relates the story of a man who constantly paces up and down in a neighbourhood chanting ‘God, God, and God— ‘acting as a gong’ against the flow of her thoughts. She finds his whole manner and disposition irritating and feels like disparaging his behaviour and presence and yet months later on returning to that area of the city she feels an overwhelming desire to seek him out again and to ask him to explain his behaviour so that she might better understand his motivation. She fails to find him and reflects upon his potential significance by stating that “all who know what they are talking about appear crazy”.
I partly share Annie’s contention in that some people who display antisocial or non conformist tendencies are often regarded as ‘crazy’ as a means of safeguarding ourselves from an intrusion into our comfort zone. However, I would not necessarily regard this as a positive sign as to either their mental well being or potential attraction as a source of human inspiration. Nevertheless, I myself had a similar experience some years ago in Galway City when we had to temporarily relocate our work practice over a restaurant in Galway while our own offices were being renovated. Each morning when we entered our premises, we would be greeted by the smell of stale food wafting up from the kitchen waste facilities below. Although the offices adjoined a busy junction we had no option but to open the windows to get fresh air. However, a young man of small stature and impoverished attire would locate himself each morning at the front window of the department store opposite and launch at full voice into the most appalling dirge which had no semblance of musical order or vocal skill. It was so shrill that it was rumoured that he would wait at a certain spot until he was given enough money to move elsewhere. However, his morning always started outside our office and he could be there for at least an hour or two and often longer. In the following few weeks I would see him again at various strategic places around the city and would sometimes take an alternative route to avoid him. But strangely, just as in Annie’s tale, when he left the city, I somehow began to miss him. This was certainly not out of any sense of appreciation of his musical process but rather like her, I wondered at his family background and why he sang so strongly and impassionedly on a street corner fearing neither friend nor foe! It is well said about the Irish that ‘all their wars are merry but all their songs are sad’. I would gladly have gone to war to rid me of the sound of that man’s song but when he left all one could feel was a profound sense of sadness.
Annie Syed also writes “what sustains my imagination and intelligence is directly proportional to my own creative output” and asks indirectly if this attitude could be considered conceited. My own view is that such a singular stance is perhaps too self centred rather than conceited and might preclude the simple pleasures of association with such as the ‘God’ man if they do not prove a source of inspiration for creative writing. Furthermore, she touches on the limitations of social media sites such as Twitter and Facebook for accommodating the ‘human desire for response’ and refers to those who will not follow someone on twitter unless they are also followed by them in turn. I have long shared a similar anxiety with the scope for beneficial human fulfilment gained by using Twitter and indeed my first blog verse emphasised just such a dilemma for me.
Perhaps it is my age or personal disposition which is a significant source of frustration for me and I have often felt that the tweeting process resembles a Wine and Cheese Party where one consumes largely plonk, nibbles at cheesy remarks and talks to people one hardly knows about often private and personal issues. My own personal reason to persevere is related to the desire to put together a little cyber magazine of my musings and amusings which I can pass onto my family as a memento when I am no longer physically fit to set out such little observations and discourses.
Nevertheless, I must admit that I have spoken to people all over the world about issues as diverse as surfing dogs to book connoisseurs, and I have read wonderful and stimulating writing by people such as Annie and have discussed happy mantras with Get Happy Quick gurus! At a time of recession which has left me with more time that I would normally choose from my work and when I will soon be facing the prospect of full retirement, My Little Twitter site has proved a source of fickle but fond laughter, frustration, embarrassment and annoyance just in fact like life itself. Tweet anyone?
I partly share Annie’s contention in that some people who display antisocial or non conformist tendencies are often regarded as ‘crazy’ as a means of safeguarding ourselves from an intrusion into our comfort zone. However, I would not necessarily regard this as a positive sign as to either their mental well being or potential attraction as a source of human inspiration. Nevertheless, I myself had a similar experience some years ago in Galway City when we had to temporarily relocate our work practice over a restaurant in Galway while our own offices were being renovated. Each morning when we entered our premises, we would be greeted by the smell of stale food wafting up from the kitchen waste facilities below. Although the offices adjoined a busy junction we had no option but to open the windows to get fresh air. However, a young man of small stature and impoverished attire would locate himself each morning at the front window of the department store opposite and launch at full voice into the most appalling dirge which had no semblance of musical order or vocal skill. It was so shrill that it was rumoured that he would wait at a certain spot until he was given enough money to move elsewhere. However, his morning always started outside our office and he could be there for at least an hour or two and often longer. In the following few weeks I would see him again at various strategic places around the city and would sometimes take an alternative route to avoid him. But strangely, just as in Annie’s tale, when he left the city, I somehow began to miss him. This was certainly not out of any sense of appreciation of his musical process but rather like her, I wondered at his family background and why he sang so strongly and impassionedly on a street corner fearing neither friend nor foe! It is well said about the Irish that ‘all their wars are merry but all their songs are sad’. I would gladly have gone to war to rid me of the sound of that man’s song but when he left all one could feel was a profound sense of sadness.
Annie Syed also writes “what sustains my imagination and intelligence is directly proportional to my own creative output” and asks indirectly if this attitude could be considered conceited. My own view is that such a singular stance is perhaps too self centred rather than conceited and might preclude the simple pleasures of association with such as the ‘God’ man if they do not prove a source of inspiration for creative writing. Furthermore, she touches on the limitations of social media sites such as Twitter and Facebook for accommodating the ‘human desire for response’ and refers to those who will not follow someone on twitter unless they are also followed by them in turn. I have long shared a similar anxiety with the scope for beneficial human fulfilment gained by using Twitter and indeed my first blog verse emphasised just such a dilemma for me.
Perhaps it is my age or personal disposition which is a significant source of frustration for me and I have often felt that the tweeting process resembles a Wine and Cheese Party where one consumes largely plonk, nibbles at cheesy remarks and talks to people one hardly knows about often private and personal issues. My own personal reason to persevere is related to the desire to put together a little cyber magazine of my musings and amusings which I can pass onto my family as a memento when I am no longer physically fit to set out such little observations and discourses.
Nevertheless, I must admit that I have spoken to people all over the world about issues as diverse as surfing dogs to book connoisseurs, and I have read wonderful and stimulating writing by people such as Annie and have discussed happy mantras with Get Happy Quick gurus! At a time of recession which has left me with more time that I would normally choose from my work and when I will soon be facing the prospect of full retirement, My Little Twitter site has proved a source of fickle but fond laughter, frustration, embarrassment and annoyance just in fact like life itself. Tweet anyone?
Note:
1) You can follow Annie Q. Syed writings on Twitter @so_you_know
2) You can read my 'Twitter Poem in Jest' on March blog 2010
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