This is the first blog post after moving from WordPress.org, and importing recent years’ posts from the greenYgrey blog, which has been running writing since early 2008.
Last night I watched Nick Cave’s 20,000 Days on Earth for the first time. I’ve never been a big Nick Cave fan, but have enjoyed his live performances when I’ve seen them. The movie had a lot of great introspection about his creative process. I related a lot to it, and especially how he tries to delve deep into the mind and bring ideas and knowledge usually hidden away in the unconscious to the surface: and in doing so consciously travel to a secret world where dreams and imagination only usually emerge when you’re asleep or un-a-were.
I have talked about the process before, and do so again in this post, which dates from mid-January. That period of the journey was very introspective, perhaps inspired by the season, as well as mentally travelling through the Chernobyl region, and a couple of years after bringing a werewolf Andy Warhol into the greenYgrey world, I thought of a new POP ART: not one that contained any creations of mine like Warhol’s, but just noticing the colours of those special twice-a-day twilight times when the sun and horizon create sweet colours together: an especially a-musing time in cold grey winter.
X Files Parody Episode
Hi, it’s G.G. Howling, comedy parody fiction writing correspondent at the greenYgrey, inspired by Harry Potter wizard writer J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 3 Episode 18
Pop was Warhol’s art
Pop goes the Weasel
POP is the Earth’s
Pinky Orange Purple
There is a twilight before and after the yellow of the sun, as there was greenygrey before the rising of the greenYgrey Y.
Did our Andy Warhol, ol’ Wolfhol, our creative department head-honcho, provide the POP?
His disappearance did follow on quite quickly after the rising of our Y, as the sunrise and sunset colours form and fade for a relatively short time before the rising and after the setting of the sun.
If Wolfhol is our sunrise and sunset, does that mean that if we find him his POP will signal the setting of the greenYgrey Y?
Should we continue if that is the case? We think we must.
Y? We know Y, and that is enough. daY has a Y, but night has none.
We’re not here to reinvent the Y, just adapt it for our name and story; a new and original use of a very old letter. Although it is just one of twenty-six letters in the human world, in our world it becomes special, through emphasis.
In the human alphabet, letters can either be valued as being used a lot, so they could be called popular; or not used a lot, so they are worth more points on a Scrabble board.
It’s a Magical Time of the Year Adaptation
I was feeling so uplifted by the sunrise that I thought of the It’s a Magical Time of the Year song, and how it could be adapted for the twilight times of sunrise and sunset… with Day obviously replacing Year.
I couldn’t remember who sang it, so I looked it up, and found out it was Andy Williams… another Andy… it was another spooky coincidence on my epic X Files mystery tour.
Returning to sunrises and sunsets, having previously looked on the Bright Side of Life in Blighty winter by declaring it the rush-hour sunrise time of year, what with the sunrise around 8am in mid-winter, I can now also offer an additional bright side of winter life to look on.
Yes, in winter there is much less time between the two magical times of the day, or at least the possibility of some magic, sky willing!
Connections in Mind and Story
I’d just started off watching the sunrise and thinking of its colours, then made the connection with Warhol’s POP, leading to a possible plot and end theme for the greenYgrey and this book, having previously put in the Gorky link about plot after seeing the Novgorod connection.
Yes, must admit, at times like that, when things seem to fit, like finding the right piece for a jigsaw, or word in a crossword; only it’s a puzzle you are both creating and doing at the same time; but your creator isn’t normally in contact with the doer, and they only meet at times like that, times when your mind seems in tune with itself, and whatever’s impelling it to write it; muse, holy trinity of the writing mind or whatever; at times like that, I accept any suggestion that I’m mostly doing it for myself, and even at this time, when the initial reluctance to enter the greenYgrey world to write is long forgotten, and I’m deep in the zone, like about the same time into a good long run in the sun.
There are probably subtle differences between the zones, as there are between the sensations of feet running on ground and fingers tapping on a keyboard, or feeling the sunshine on a summer day and being wrapped up on a winter night, but they are essentially the same… and good.
Reinventing the Y inspired by: reinvent the wheel:
Fig. to make unnecessary or redundant preparations. You don’t need to reinvent the wheel. Read up on what others have done. I don’t have to reinvent the wheel, but I will be cautious before I act.
In recent years I have read Haruki Murakami and Mark Rowlands talking about their love for the writing and running zone.
Marc Latham previously wrote a poem utilising the Pop Goes the Weasel nursery rhyme: https://fmpoetry.wordpress.com/2010/11/11/armistice-day-poem/:
Marc Latham’s Armistice Day poem started off as a normal Folding Mirror poem, but then when he wrote peep goes the whistle in the middle it reminded him of the nursery rhyme pop goes the weasel.
After looking the nursery rhyme up he thought he would include parts of the rhyme (in black) to contrast fun peace time elements, like memories of civilian life, to the main horrors of war, in the present, poem (in red).
The Whistle Cried Heavy
Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle.
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop goes the weasel.
waiting in the purgatory
of trench hospitality
dead dreams of peace
vermin, mud and disease
a date with destiny
is awaiting me
peep goes the whistle
Up and down the City road,
In and out the Eagle,
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop goes the weasel.
my comrades carry me
over the top
amongst the deadly crop
bullets, wire and metal
please god cry heckle
an enemy’s greeting
our hell’s garden meeting
All around the cobblers bench
the monkey chased the people;
The donkey thought ’twas all in fun,
pop goes the weasel.