Tag Archives: People

Basket-Making Gypsies of Northern Romania

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‘When you die you’ll leave that big house. When I die I’ll leave this [little one]. What’s the difference?’ he says as he puts out his cigarette on the stained carpet of his living room floor. The carpet itself, a mere buffer between their home and the soil beneath. ‘The difference being,’ he continued, ‘that I’ll have sang and danced, while you’ll have been chasing all those things.’

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An Interview with Don Charisma

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Don Charisma kindly agreed to an interview with me with regards to my research on blogging and its effect on writers. Don is an avid blogger[1] who is clearly eager to promote himself and his brand through blogging. Therefore, an interview with him proved very worthwhile in learning about blogging as a form of self-promotion.

 

Do you use blogging as a way of promoting your work?

Yes. First and foremost I believe promoting the brand, business or individual comes first. So my blog is partially about that. I work in partnership with another guy. We have a web design/development/seo firm http://DonCharisma.com, which is promoted (a little) out of http://DonCharisma.org

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Calling All Writers

Hello everyone,

I’m continuing with my research into the effect that blogging is having on modern day writing. I’ve already gathered some very interesting information from my survey and many thanks again to everyone for their help.

I’m now arranging interviews with writers, bloggers & publishers in order to get opinions on the effect that blogging is having  on writers. If you’re interested is sharing your experiences, ideas or opinions then I’d love to hear from you. I’m interested in finding out how bloggers feel about blogging and the effects that it is having on their careers.  I’ll post the interview on my blog and credit all of your opinions as your own.

If you’re interested please leave a comment after this post or email me at: olearyac1@gmail.com

I look forward from hearing from you.

Thanks,

AC.

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Art as Communal Chaos

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I went to ‘Carnaval’ in Santa Cruise De Tenerife recently and decided to conduct an artistic social experiment. Art by its very nature, traditionally, – like writing – is a deeply personal, isolated and meticulous process. An individual, or group, sets out to plan, draft and perfect something that is then brought to the public for critique. My intention was to turn this concept on its head with a simple question: can art be created without a plan, talent or indeed any direction? It was with this question in mind that I set about preparing my ‘costume’ for the Carnaval.

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The Ducks

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I take the pills in a withered hand. It shakes. Not from fear though. It hasn’t stopped since the day you passed. The flask-warmed tea tastes bitter as the pills dissolve within it. The two curdle together in my mouth. Not long now. Or so I hope.

A hole in the moth-eaten tweed draws my brittle fingers toward it. Purple snake-veins protrude from the wrinkled milky waste. I attempt to mask the hole from…from whom? Is there anybody left to even notice and, if they did, to care.

Your duck is still here. He looks unsure of whether to take the crumbs that I throw towards him. Perhaps they were sweeter coming from you. But then again everything was sweeter coming from you. The ground that I walk upon is now worth more than everything and everyone that walks upon it, because you rest within it.

All the ducks seem less eager for sustenance without your presence. For them, the very act of eating has lost all joy, point or purpose. They merely wade aimlessly. The sky above is a dirty blue and the sun stifles the inside of my collar.

The clouds come down upon me all at once. The colours fade to a pureness of white. I see your face. You smile as I reach out to wipe the joyous tear from your cheek.

 

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Going Nowhere

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It never ceases to amaze me how people can stay in one place their entire lives and be perfectly content.  I was told about a man who passed away a few weeks ago. He went to school, trained and worked his entire life in essentially one building. The thing that amazes me is how happy – I was told – this man was with what he got from life.

The world is full of different types of people, which is the essence of humanity and the reason it’s possible for us all to occupy this increasingly small planet. That said it seems so strange to me that people could live perfectly happy lives without ever having lived in more than one town, village, even house for that matter. How can this be all they need to live perfectly content lives?

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Writing: Daydreams & Childish Play?

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Freud asserts that ‘a piece of creative writing, like a daydream, is a continuation of, and a substitute for, what was once the play of childhood.’ Is that what the writer is doing when she write? Playing a game? In some ways, I have to agree.  The writer – like the child – gives into her imaginative side and allows herself to roam free from this world and into the ‘worlds’ of her own mind. I know myself that my own sanity at times relies on the fact that I do write.

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The Unattainable Joy of Childhood

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Why is it impossible to reach the level of uncontrollable excitement and happiness that we took for granted as children? I had a class recently of children – who are younger than the teenagers I usually teach – and I was amazed and astonished with the level of joy that children can gain from the simplest of stimuli.

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