Creative Urge Again!

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Alexander Solzhenitsyn

I can’t stop these songs writing themselves in my head. Passing them on to the world is a kind of exorcism. Here’s another in the same genre and to the same tune as before…

Solzhenitsyn was another;
He was friendly with my mother.
I don’t know if he kissed her
But he looks just like my sister
And a little bit like my brother.

Disclaimer:
No Russian authors were harmed in the writing of this song or the last one. Nor is it intended to allege, imply, suggest or hint that any person, extant or extinct, has behaved in any way that could be characterised by a reasonable person as dishonest or immoral.

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The Creative Urge

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I hope you’ve noticed that I haven’t been posting lately. Sloth and indiscipline have played a part, but mainly to blame is the creative urge – in particular my absorption in writing the sequel to ‘Bobby Shafter’. It is now complete! Subject to proof-reading of course.

Despite being absorbed in that authorly project, dim regions of my brain have been generating poetry. Those regions are like the ones that keep us breathing, pump our blood and move food through our digestive tracts; whatever we’re doing they just keep on going.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

So what to do with this unconscious outpouring of creative… stuff? I have no choice. I have to share it.

What follows is to be sung to the tune of “Free, free beer for all the workers … when the Red Revolution comes!” or “Solidarity forever … the Union makes us free!”. Apart from the metrical scheme it’s much the same as “Mine eyes have seen the glory …” and “John Brown’s body …”. Please, please sing it, sing it loud, so my dim regions’ labours will be not in vain!

Dostoevsky was a writer;
Once I let him use my lighter.
He blew smoke in my eyes
And next day I realised
He’d stolen it – the blighter!

A Published Poet!

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It’s a little sad, really. I must disown the sobriquet ‘possibly the most inspiring unpublished poet of his generation’. Why? I have just had a romantic sonnet published in an anthology of love stories.

The book’s called ‘Love Story: Volume I’ and you can click on the cover design alongside to start the process of buying it – if you want it delivered in Australia, that is. It’s only A$19.99 and the profits all go to charity. The perfect Valentine’s Day gift!

Broadband Down!

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Please imagine the following diary entries being ticker-taped like news flashes. That’ll make the story they tell seem more exciting . . .

Wed 19 Dec
No broadband connection, so no internet and no landline! Never mind, it’ll be back soon. Went to bed.

Thu 20 Dec
Still no internet. Spoke to iiNet call centre in South Africa. Diagnosis: NBN Co* has probably reassigned my connection to someone else – happens all the time. No need for technician visit. All will be well.

Sat 22 Dec
Text message received: “Will someone be at home on Monday between 0800 and 1200?”

Mon 24 Dec
NBN Co contractors come and notice a wire dangling from a pole, and coiled wire hanging from a pole on the other side of the road. Hmm, this calls for a specialist, can’t do it today. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Christmas Day, sir!

Fri 28 Dec
NBN Co contractors come. Hmm, this will need a special attachment to the pole. That requires a special specialist, can’t do it today.

Wed 2 Dec
An middle-aged man with a weathered look turns up with his young assistant, bits of bent metal, pliers, a hacksaw and a ladder. A specialist. Unfazed by having an inquisitive onlooker he sets to work. Three hours later we’re back online.

Two other wires were down in the same street, so the current theory is that an over-sized vehicle, perhaps connected with a nearby building site, was driven along the street and simply chopped through them.

It occurs to me that with all our relativity and quantum mechanics, with all our light-fast hi-tech whizz-bang technology and machines that go ping!, making things work often comes down to having a bloke up a ladder who knows what he’s doing.

* NBN means Australia’s National Broadband Network, and NBN Co is the state-owned company that is building and operating it. But customers access the network through competing retailers.

Published!

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The doors are locked. No-one leaves without buying a book!

 

There’s a new page on my blogsite: Books – Bobby Shafter.  Do open it and, if the blurb attracts or intrigues you, click on a link to buy my newly published book.

PS  The advertisements below are selected by WordPress, not by me, and I receive no revenue from them.

Mamma Mia!

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Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

I usually follow the film critics’ advice, and often consult the Rotten Tomatoes website before investing my time at a cinema. But I made an exception for ‘Mama Mia! Here We Go Again’ – the sequel to ‘Mamma Mia’ with an all-star cast and the music of Abba front and centre.

The critics panned it but there was a special showing for charity and Mrs SG and I were invited to go with a group. And how glad we were that we went.

It’s corny and schmaltzy and syrupy, yes, and it shamelessly exploits nost-Abba-algia. But if one accepts it as a series of video clips held together by a flimsy plot, it’s brilliant and thoroughly entertaining. In fact, if one thinks of it as an opera, dragging one dizzily through a steamy emotional jungle set to music, it sits at high table. It even features a dead woman, which adds to the operatic likeness.

Coco

And there’s another thing. As we left the cinema I found myself thinking of the last-but-one Pixar film: ‘Coco’. Both films celebrate and sentimentalise our place in the river of life – the endless flow of generations, each one building on the experience, the achievements and the follies of all that went before, and honouring them. I find that moving.