A… er… friend of mine once gave me some interesting advice. "If you're ever waiting for a phone call, and you've got to do something else, and the phone's just not ringing, masturbate!" Apparently, it never fails. The phone will always ring before you are done.
Well, I don't mention this gratuitously. I mean, I'm well aware – or vaguely aware – that there are rules to table conversation. One of them is, don't mention masturbation. Sex – yes! Masturbation – no! I am reminded of a little anecdote that amused me greatly, of a hapless young man who proudly took his girlfriend home to meet his mother for the first time. It transpired, during conversation, that the man's mother was fond of poetry and that her favourite poet was Philip Larkin. "Philip Larkin?" said the girl, "Apparently he could wank for England!"
Far be it from me to commit such a faux pas, or, perhaps, it's not so very far after all. I should, however, before I do any more damage, simply beg the forgiveness of my gentle readers for the vulgarity of my friend, but politely suggest that, if they are in a similar situation they might like to take part in a scientific experiment and test the verity of his words. Perhaps you can get a friend to help you. Let me know the results if you do.
Anyway, what I'm leading up to is this, something rather similar happened to me today. First of all, you must know that my third collection of short stories, Rule Dementia! is now back from the printers, and very fine it looks, too. Unfortunately, I cannot yet provide you with a picture, but when I can, I will. Secondly, you must know that my publisher has sent me my copies of the book by parcel post with the advice that they may arrive on Friday or Saturday. Today is Friday. I am not going to work. When I got up it seemed the postman had been, but there was no sign of the books. I thought that perhaps the parcel post would come later. I breakfasted, I fired off a volley of e-mails inviting unfortunate people to my book launch. Still there was no sign of the arrival of the expected package. It's no use, I thought, it's not coming today, I shall just have to have a shower.
And so, I entered the shower. I was shampooing my hair when suddenly, inevitably, the doorbell rang. For a moment I forgot the strange taboo about nudity that obtains in this society and almost rushed down to the door as I was. I quickly recollected myself, rinsed my hair and grabbed my towel.
"Just a minute!" I shouted as I dried myself hastily and put on my yukata (light kimono similar to dressing gown).
I know what postmen are like, so my hopes were not high that he would either hear me or wait if he did hear me. All the while I reflected on the strangeness of our taboos on nudity. If I had answered the door in my naked, lathered state, I'm sure the man would have been rather taken aback, quite as if he did not have a very similar body under his own clothes. I mean, my body doesn't bother me. Or not as much as it used to. Well, look, I'm not going to get into the whole horror of human biology thing here, basically, I don't see my body as an offensive weapon.
Anyway, so, I hurried down the stairs, and that is when catastrophe struck. I had failed to properly dry the soles of my feet, and the stairs are smooth and wooden, and, in short, I slipped and fell. It really hurt! I didn't cry, but I did swear a lot. It really, really hurt! I expect I shall be bruised.
At least, when I got to the door, I found that the post-person had left the parcel on the door mat. We must suffer for our art!
Well, all that is to say that Rule Dementia! is finally here. When the website of Rainfall Books is online, I shall post a link. I am, rightly or wrongly, expecting this collection to sell out very quickly. The official launch is to be held on the 11th of June in London. If you would be interested in coming, let me know at [email protected], giving your e-mail the heading of 'Rule Dementia! launch', and I'll let you know the time and place (as long as you're nice to me).
Now, I have long neglected this blog, and there are reasons for that. Not insignificant among these is the fact that I have been very depressed. Now, as a matter of fact, I am taking some pills for this depression, but I am rather skeptical of pills, if the truth be told. Let's think about this. The ice bergs are melted all around Greenland and the Arctic, which will soon deprive many people there of their way of life and of food, and raise the sea level to a dangerous extent. But I'm the one who is chemically imbalanced and has a distorted view of the world. Tony Blair, a known liar and war criminal responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocents in Iraq is re-elected with hardly a murmur. And I'm the one who's a bit funny in the head. I don't think so! The human race is depressed, is insanely suicidal. I'm just (reasonably) honest.
Anyway, so, that's one reason I haven't been posting here. I mean, the question occurred to me the other day, what does an artist (writer) do when he comes to the conclusion that the human race isn't worth saving? What then? Please do tell me. Or I'll tell you, if I find the answer first.
But… when I posted the link to my latest story below, and had a look around Opera for the first time in over a month, what did I find? What did I discover? Perhaps you already know. I discovered that – apparently – The Directory of Lost Causes is now the most visited journal on Opera.
How on Earth did this happen? Personally, I suspect computer error, or ballot-stuffing. I mean, this is meant to be The Directory of Lost Causes for god's sake! Let me restate the origin of the title. It comes from a story by Borges called 'The Sword and the Scar'. In the story one character states that, "For the gentleman, only the lost cause should be attractive."
Since all that I have ever cared about has seemed a lost cause, this struck a chord with me. But what now? Is my cause no longer lost? Do I need to change the name of this blog? Perhaps I should simply continue to believe that this is some sort of mix-up, after all, hardly anyone ever comments on this blog; who can all these visitors be who don't sign the guest book?
I have discussed this with someone, and it was suggested that there are many people who enjoy my blog passively. It was even suggested to me that I have made many people happy. In such circumstances I can do no better than to quote Morrissey's response in this situation:
"Well, I didn't mean to."
There is something about your post – from the words on depression to the madness of the world – that reminds me of “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus. I am not sure if you have ever read it or if philosophy is really your thing. Sisyphus was condemned by the Gods to roll a rock to the top of a hill – upon which reaching the apex the rock would roll back down under its own weight. Sisyphus had to do this endlessly. And maybe that is what we as humans have to endure: the unending noise and sensation of life; the ceaseless toil and the daily grind. What for? To what purpose? Albert Camus makes the assertion that to the sane man suicide is the only rational decision, the only way to escape rolling the rock to the top of that hill.
Just to be clear: I never finished reading the book. I don’t know how it ends – I don’t know what Camus’ final thoughts were. Maybe everything I thought about his book is a complete and utter misinterpretation. Maybe I never finished it because I didn’t quite agree. I believe that we just don’t live in our physical realities or without purpose and meaning – and whether we mean to or not we touch people’s lives – and this extends outwards like ripples in water because the lives we touch go on to touch other lives. And you touch others through your writing.
regards,
JCL.
Quentin,
I for one, read your blog regularly, and I don’t comment a lot… And I must confess that yes, you’ve made me happy from time to time, and you sure have aroused my interest to things that i had no idea they even existed (mainly relative to Japanese culture). Does that make me a “passive” enjoyer?
I can’t wait to read “Rule Dementia!”, but I won’t be able to be in London on the 11th (sometimes I would like to be a Brit… no, only joking!).
It’s strange that you mention Borges’ “The Sword and the Scar”, I’ve re-read it last week! I failed to make the connection with the name of your blog, but I guess I am forgiven because I read it in French…
Hello ElHI. Thanks for the comment. Much as I would like to fulfil the image of the reclusive, misanthropic writer of the macabre, I’m afraid that I can’t. Not because I’m not, to some extent, reclusive and misanthropic, but because I don’t have quite the sense of self-reliance that also seems to be part of such an image. I write in order to communicate. So, you must forgive my cajoling. I do write in order to elicit responses, whether active or passive, and it seems that a certain amount of arch-ness has entered into the way I do this.
Yes, the connection between the name of this blog and the story is not explicit. I don’t think anyone would make the connection without my explanation.
I shall post the link to the new Rainfall Books website when it’s online. I’m sure that you will be able to order a copy of Rule Dementia! directly from there.
Thank you for posting, JCL.
I have read – at least some of – The Myth of Sisyphus – by Camus. Like yourself, I have yet to finish it. I believe that he eventually concludes against suicide. I became interested in the book because I knew that it was a work of great significance to Nick Drake, a songwriter whom I greatly admire. OF course, Nick Drake died of an overdose. It is generally believed that he did, in the end, decided to end his life. One of his songs, Fruit Tree, seems to predict this with lyrics such as “Fame is but fruit tree/ So very unsound/ It can never flourish/ Till its stock is in the ground.”
I think what is often called sanity is – as far as humanity in the long run is concerned – suicidal. We need the irrational to survive.