June. 2022; See the Dew on the Flower
So. After a lengthy hiatus, the Sunday Scribble is back. Over the past few months I’ve been asked over and over if I’ll start it back up, or has this old dog passed over the rainbow bridge and left behind nothing but a few lingering thoughts and a bit of a smell. Truth be told, I just needed a break. I kinda felt like I’d addressed so many topics, things that had been bothering me and events that seemed beyond comprehension, it all just got a bit much to keep crunching the keys and hoping somehow it made things feel better. In a way it did. The Sunday Scribble is not much more than me just putting pen to paper, and trying to wrestle with stuff, an attempt to fathom the unfathomable, with words. And I’m both pleased and grateful that it seems to help others on occasion. I needed a break, and I took it. But now it’s back, I’m back. And seeing as this world is seemingly hell-bent on burning itself to ashes, I might as damn well write about it.
Firstly, let’s address a couple of changes. The Sunday Scribble, as you’ve probably already noticed, will now only be in English. My dear translator has her own busy life, full time job, family, and all those other type-things that take up about 27 hours of a regular persons day. And as I’m sure some readers will know, translating someone else’s words (especially mine, with frequent use of idioms, terrible grammar, and even a few made -up words) is bloody hard. If it takes me 2 or maybe 3 hours to write this stuff, it would take her close to double that time to translate it, then get it checked by me, make any corrections and then get it finished. And that’s too much. So, although it’ll undoubtedly make this blog lose more than a few readers, so be it. And I hope these who stick with it can still somehow make near-sense of my sarcasm-tinted ramblings. And for my lovely translator, who did such excellent work of the plus-100 previous Sunday Scribbles, I offer my sincerest blessings and gratitude. Thank you lah.
And next up, length. This may raise a few eyebrows, but longer isn’t always better (Sorry, couldn’t stop myself from that one.) Some of the previous article pieces were well over 3000 words, and in fairness, I think that’s probably just too much for many people to sit down and try to ingest in one sitting. So from now on, I’ll be keeping it somewhat shorter. More meat, less gravy, perhaps. Or probably more gravy, less meat. A delicious metaphor flirting with the quickest, scientifically proven and sure-fire way to help the environment and ourselves as a species. But I digress. The Sunday Scribble will be more of a quick read from now on, as opposed to a chapter. More romantic-trash novel you bought at the airport, and less War and Peace/Moby Dick sized epics. (Not that I would call anything I have ever done, in any way, epic. Maybe epically pathetic.) So. What’s been happening in the world these last few months…
When I was a youngster, all those moons ago, the elders of our clan passed on bite-sized snippets of worldly wisdom in the form of expressions, sayings, quotes and idioms. To this day, I truly think the world of language studies should have a separate class for quotes and idioms. So much truth and knowledge and can be revealed in just a few short words. They can be thought provoking, they can be amusing, and they can be downright painfully accurate. Don’t burn your bridges. Ignorance is bliss. Read between the lines. All crafted beautifully, figurative and literal, and all being expressed by the speaker to the listener in an attempt to pass on some wise words of meaning and life experience. And the expression, the quote, that’s been bouncing around in my mind for the entire first half of this year has been… If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. I know I should bite my tongue. I’m fully aware that me speaking out won’t change a damned thing. But, if you know me, know this blog, then you’ll know I find it very difficult to keep my mouth shut at the never ending stream of injustices that plague us, this planet, and the wildlife that join us in living on it.
It’s truly unbelievable that 2022 could somehow be worse than the previous 2 years, but yep, we’ve somehow managed it. The thing is, the virus itself hasn’t made things worse, oh nope. That’s pretty much lost steam and worn itself out. Most countries are back to near-normal, going to music festivals and theatre, sports matches and the usual protests for whatever is the most left-wing flavour of the month. Nope, it’s us, as a people, that’s buggered this year up. Treating virus carriers like lepers. Locking hungry people in their homes for times equal to a prison sentence. Deciding that pets are the sworn enemy, and then casually beating them to death. And you know there’s a lot more that’s unmentionable here. 404. Page not found. And now this week, the disgustingly vile Yulin Dog and Cat meat “festival” is happening, another hellish example of just how depraved and unforgivable our species can treat another, to fill it’s bloated stomach at the torture and extended death of sentient creatures. The eyes of the world have been on us here, and it’s not been a pretty picture. Just a few months ago, China was being praised the world over for it’s effectiveness in curbing the spread of the pandemic. Countries were mentioning China as a glowing example of how a society can be, showing such bravery, such unified selflessness, banding together in resolute comradery in fighting this monstrous thing that seems unbeatable. And in just a few short weeks, you know how the world sees us now. This, our countries reputation, has been more than blemished. And this is a tragedy beyond words.
The flip side to this, the clouds silver lining, is that some smarty pants have used this time productively. Instead of just Netflix marathons, masturbation, and lounging in pools of self despair, some glorious people actually did stuff. Some studied. Took up yoga. Learned to bake. I myself had more time on my hands than I’d care to admit, thanks to 12, yep, 12, photo-work trips being cancelled. No unnecessary travel. Nothing off-line. No nothing, except health codes and little test-sticks up your nose. So, how did I use this space-time vacuum to improve my flabby grey matter? Reading. Yep. I always read anyway, but this year more than normal. Everything from autobiographies, fantasy novels, how-to-write books, psychology hardbacks, even a couple of romantic novels (the book of “call me by your name” is so incredibly beautiful, I cannot recommend it enough.) But the one that’s made me ponder the world, double question so many facets of society and second-guess the believable beyond the bullshit, is about the Vietnam war.
This nonsensical war, that lasted over 20 years (yep), has always fascinated me. It wasn’t like any other war, before or since, and thank Allah/Jehovah/Buddha/Elon Musk for that. It was, quite literally, throwing over two and a half million US soldiers, many of which were still teenagers (average age of the combat soldier was 19, hundreds of thousands younger still), into a land across the other side of the world, into conditions and geographical climate unbeknownst to them in any way, to fight (and potentially die) in a war that had absolutely zero to do with them. But hey, isn’t that always the way. The fat old men who decide on these conflicts never actually do much more than drink coffee and eat biscuits, whilst families are torn to shreds and sons and daughters never return home. I personally find it unforgivable how little attention and seriousness has been brought to the current war in the Ukraine to us here. It’s like it’s just not important. If you talk about the new iphone on social media then all the screen zombies are frothing at the mouth and getting hard lumps in their red underwear, but mention the invasion of a European country and they’re immediately back to watching mindless DouYin videos. The devolution of humankind is unquestionably upon us.
The book in question is “The Things They Carried,” by world-renowned author Tim O’Brien. This literary masterpiece has been accredited with scores of awards and prestige, and after reading it (twice) I can understand why. One reason is his beautiful approach of writing, labelled verisimilitude, emphasizing the blur between reality and fiction. The book is noted as something between a truer-than true novel, largely autobiographical, and based on actual events. But not everything. In the book he talks about story-truth, compared to happening-truth. The author describes how the feelings and emotions running through the soldiers and others in the book, are story-truth, and not indeed necessarily happening-truth. But when reading a book, we empathise much closer to story-truth than happening-truth. Just imagine, for example, you’re riding your bicycle, and someone driving a car whilst playing with their phone hits you, not fatally of course, but enough to require calling an ambulance and a stay at the hospital. Now imagine how you would describe these events to someone who asked “what actually happened?” Now, imagine how an onlooker who was witness to the scene might describe the exact same event. Would they be the same? Nope. And that’s the difference. Feelings. Emotion. We all know how feelings and emotions, fear, pure animal savagery, hatred, confusion and bravado, can make your mind almost completely misconstrue the situation at hand. And we can all, without hesitation, put ourselves in their shoes, because we’ve all felt such intense emotions.
But one of the main themes it touches on is the concept of fleeting momentary happenings. Things only happen to us once, and once only. We may line up for virus tests every other day, but each time is different, albeit in tiny ways. The blaring of the incessant megaphones. The pretty eyes of the tester. Things we’ve done a thousand times are different each and every time, and the outcomes or possible consequences of the tiniest events are uncountable. Throughout our life, everything just becomes a memory. We did it, but we can never fully recall it. We can’t feel those emotions in the same way, we can just recollect as best we can. We can never again truly feel the lips of the person you adored so wantingly, pressed against yours as you kissed for the first time. Your heart will never beat with the same unrelentless pounding as when a careful and experienced lover undressed you, all those years ago. The sheer misery of unrequited love. Family death. Memories. All alone in the moonlight.
About 10 days ago, I was out walking my dog around midnight, as I always do, when I met a new friend. He was a homeless dog, grey, quite young, extremely friendly (which clearly indicates he’d been abandoned by his piece of shit owners) but not in great condition. His skin was pretty unhealthy, he was verging on skinny, but his eyes were bright and his love for people was radiant. He followed me and my dog for a few hundred metres, and as is part of my regular evening dog-walk ritual, I went to the same shop I always do and got a beer. Same shop. Same beer. Same small conversation with the owner. This is my time of reflection at the end of the day. I sit peacefully alone, think, and reflect. My dog sits on the floor, and tonight this new friend joined us. He wanted to play. Actually, he wanted to chew my shoe. He tugged and pulled at my shoelaces for a few minutes, and eventually I just gave up and threw him my shoe. I could live without a beloved and worn FeiYue gym shoe. But, the delight this raggedy old shoe gave him was worth all the tea in India. For probably 20 minutes he was absolutely smitten with it, chewing it up and flinging it around, swinging it by the laces around his head, dropping it, chasing it. He was as close to ecstatic as I’ve ever seen a dog be. I took videos and laughed, and felt an acute sense of pure, undiluted and absolute happiness. All this dog wanted was a toy. Something to play with, something to chew. And for a few moments, he was truly, truly happy. And my smelly old shoe did that. Then, after a while, and without the blink of an eye, he brought the shoe back to me, dropped it, and walked off like nothing had happened. I waited for a while, but he didn’t come back. I waited a bit longer. Chewed up shoe was placed back on, and I walked home.
The next day I went out looking for him. I didn’t know what I’d do, but I took food. I wanted to find him, see if I could help him. But nothing. 9am dog walk, nothing. 5pm dog walk, nothing. Then that evening, same time, midnight, I saw him happily sleeping outside a small bar near where I live. I felt warmer, maybe he actually does have an owner? Maybe he just floats around here now, like so many abandoned pets do in so many cities, discarded like rubbish. But, very sadly, that was the last time I saw him.
I still look every day for him, but nothing. He’s gone. Perhaps to another area, or perhaps he’s been lucky and some beautiful soul has taken him in. Or, perhaps, the security guys or cops have dragged him to his certain end. But it’s beyond my power now. I can’t do anything to help him, unless I find him. But, what I did do, was make him happy, for an unfortunately short time. He had happy, fleeting moments. And I guess that’s all we can hope for, because soon enough our moments of joy just become memories. Tonight will be a memory too. And a new day will begin.
So is there anything to be taken from all this? I don’t know. Live in the moment? Possibly. Give happiness where you have the chance to? Hopefully. Whatever we can take from others experiences, I just hope we can learn and grow from them. I wasn’t in any wars, but after the dozens of books I’ve read on them, I surely know I don’t want to be a part of one. As I’m sure all the people in the Ukraine don’t want to be a part of one, either. All we have are fleeting moments. But the moments of joy always seem to end much quicker than the moments of unhappiness. Sometimes, those moments can last a lifetime.
So take chances. Do things you wouldn’t normally do. Tell that person how you really feel. Because soon enough, it’ll all just be a memory.
For those wishing to read further about Tim O’Briens The Things They Carried, please click here to find out more;
https://digitalcommons.lasalle.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1001&context=vietnam_papers
https://lessonbank.kyae.ky.gov/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/TTTC_Full_Text.pdf
https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/t/the-things-they-carried/tim-obrien-biography
And please, do anything in your power to educate others and abolish the pure torture of the Yulin festival. I thank you.