Life from a caffeine hyped point of view

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Influences

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The aim of any writer is, to be read. Via the worldwide web and blogger, my friend Blue has found an audience while documenting her fight with depression. It’s a hard read sometimes, all too familiar. She has managed to connect with so many people on so many levels, we rejoice when she comes out the other side and is back to her other self. Beat the black dog blues another day. Then she writes about other interesting things. Slacker, who has described me as his bete noire, is chronicler of his pain over the degeneration of his relationship. It’s disturbing to be called someone’s “black beast”, I take it to mean he relishes that I push him to write, it might even be a compliment but that might be wishful thinking.

 

It was Mike Royko and journalists like him that made me want to be a writer. Now deceased, Mike, writing first in the Chicago Sun-Times and then the Chicago Tribune, was an inveterate commentator of Americana. His syndicated columns appeared across the globe, despite what one might consider their limited interest. They talk about life, those things that matter somewhere, to someone. It is that seemingly random cataloguing and documenting of life that made his columns so interesting to many people. They recognised themselves.

 

This was before the Internet, in those days, we read our news and features, not off a computer screen but on actual printed paper and somehow, that made it seem more real. My first experience in public writing came early, a poem I had written appeared in a collection of work. Nice, but not me. I am not a poet.

 

Nor am I interested in doing more than reading fiction. I want to document those moments and incidents in actual life, it is far more fascinating and I want to write about it. Live and direct. Since that early poem, I’ve written hundreds of articles for magazines, websites; speeches, advertising copy, scripts for documentaries and my work has even been used in textbooks.

 

I wish I had Slacker’s easy facility with words, if his is the perfect salad nicoise, mine is the house salad with oil and vinegar vinaigrette. I want you to see you as you laugh, cry, walk down memory lane, identify, get mad and whatever else comes out, as you read these words. 

 

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Written by coffeewallah

May 18, 2008 at 12:17 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with , ,

3 Responses

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  1. Wow I get a whole first paragraph dedicated to lil ole moi I’m more than flattered, you just spoilt it by throwing the slacker in to steal my thunder ;). Speaking of which I know he means that as nothing more than flattery, you are both excellent writers and its wonderful that you push each other so.

    The good thing about wordpress is that if you wish you could transfer all of your entries over here en masse. The bad thing about wordpress, it does not give me the whole post on my readers, I just get the first paragraph then poof bleah

    lilgirlblue

    May 19, 2008 at 1:44 am

  2. You are the shadow over my shoulder, pushing me, impelling me. You are not a ‘black beast’ rather you cast a long shadow from which I am trying to emerge. Maybe I’ll come over here too. Thanks for your compliments.

    Douglas Brunton

    May 19, 2008 at 10:33 am

  3. I cannot hide!

    Coffeewallah

    May 19, 2008 at 5:53 pm


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