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Looks good in a picture loose on the wall Better than right now It's what I've found in a soul unwound Better than right now Leaped off the ground only to fall Better than right now If I could grow roots and stay around to be by your side If I could grow roots I would stay here and never leave, but now is not the time I would grow roots but I can't slow down or I might crash I wish I could go back in time
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I feel more and more that my ideas (novels) have no resonance in today’s world – the political construct created by oppression and the struggle to remove that oppression. My stories were formed at a time when there was little media representation of oppressed groups and women’s rights, so in 1999 I took having a female boss and a female manager as nothing out of the ordinary (but far better than the previous male bosses I had had).
This feeling of (personal) isolation and not connecting with the current world climate has made me want more and more to just remove myself from that world. It’s strange to agree with removing oppression, allowing religious tolerance, and supporting individual freedom, and then to be disgusted at how everyone on both sides of the arguments just end up throwing shit at each other. This is why America is so divided, and this is what will cause New Zealand to become so divided if we allow ourselves to follow in those footsteps.
Obvious right? Well, education and parenting has a long way to go before it teaches children the ability to listen without prejudice. Last night a twitter user tweeted “Every second American film is about a grown man grudgingly seeking acceptance from his domineering, distant and sometimes deceased father.” I quipped in reply “Damnit. Now I feel like I have to rewrite the themes of my next two novels” thinking of Dim Day and Deiaul. The silence was telling. I’m aware that my unwritten novels mean nothing to anybody, but not even a courteous 'like' for the "author aware of himself" was offered. But it also shows how irrelevant someone tweeting about themselves in reply to someone else’s tweet is. Because twitter rarely feels like a place to exchange ideas, thoughts, and feelings with each other – strangers connecting thoughtfully across distances. It’s just hard jibes and quirky remarks to get applause. Although I have known all along that my novels generally carry the same theme – the absence of family/father figure – we’re now at a place where that theme feels overdone to the point of “oh not another story about a son who hates his father...”. But then, this actual idea is something that Baz and I used to mock by re-enacting constantly with passionate extremism. So it’s not like that was ever the driving force of my stories. I was aware of it, but it wasn’t the focus; it was more about how this individual would come to themselves through all of that without the anger of overgrown teenage bitterness. Beyond all that, the internet is just a major distraction. There is little that I can do world-wide. Tweeting in support of my causes to an audience of 300 of whom a mere four might hear the message and be supportive in return feels self-defeating if I take it to heart. So instead, I need to move into a place that is positive for me, that allows me the freedom to write as I see fit. I no longer have a job, so that is not a barrier. I no longer have people requiring my presence in their lives. The future is mine. The fight wasn't worth fighting, I got so sick of dying. |
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