04/01/2015 by Alan Crawford
Howard was learning how to write
The holidays are over, bar the next few tortuous hours. He was trying to watch the range of TV he’d recorded over the last three weeks. Not much quality at the moment as he was waiting for the good stuff to come back on. How could he get his head into going back to work. How could he presume to be enthusiastic or even care? Giving just a shit is not really the standard expected but he’d try to give a shit. Howard was learning how to write.
That’s really all it’s worth though. He started to get his little bag together, gather the drugs required to get through the day, clean the shoes, check that all 27 of his snazzy work shirts were ironed and that he had suitable pants to cover the smelly bits. The smelly bits had enjoyed a good time over the last three weeks or so.
The grass has never had so much attention, the house far less so. Many things he was going to do – planned on planning – nothing, not done. He had done a few things but they can’t and won’t be highlighted here. He had a tiny bit of self respect left, maybe that’ll change when he’s back at work. They liked to bash that out of the employees. All in the name of harmony and workplace relations. Namely do what we say or you don’t work here.
Howard looked at this nonsense and wondered how this introduction would develop. Often he’d just blob about at the keyboard and stuff would appear. Sometimes he thought it was some rather clever stuff, sometimes borderline humorous stuff, but he realised most times it was just rambling stupid stuff. Stuff that no-one really understood, other than himself of course.
Stuff could be edited or even discarded. He also did that a lot. He’d spend hours typing away and then delete the whole page. Often he’d start and then realise that it was too close to home and not in a map sense. It made no sense and he couldn’t let all the secrets out of the bag. The bag with drugs, spare cigarettes and some random paperwork that required saving for some reason. A reason that had long lost all meaning. Howard wondered about seeing a psychologist. Or maybe he’d just email a link to his writings and let the session be formatted in response to his outpourings.
Howard often wondered if he needed some counselling. A megalomaniac boss once tried to analyse his behaviour but that session did not end well. In fact it ended his career in that particular field. The knob head in having completed one minor module in a sales course thought he could educate Howard and provide some guidance in dealing with his father, wife and life in general. Howard held himself back and rather than punch the clown in the face decided to leave his employ. Good move it turned out.
Rather than proceeding within the vein Howard speared off into a tangent.
Howard paused at this point and realised he had nothing. Alas no tangent, no interesting view of modern life and certainly no story or tale of his own life worth revealing. He’d revealed a lot over the years and only those who’d participated might pick up on the clues or racy hints. His writing did have a cathartic purpose, so maybe a visit or email to the psychologist was not on the menu today. He wondered about that for some time.
He was seriously distracted by going back to work and the mind numbing idiocy he would endure on a daily basis. He’d often rant harshly about this aspect of his work life but he knew deep down that it wasn’t really that bad, it just made good fodder for his character writing. Practice writing, just write and write and the skills, if there were any, would develop. Howard had read that somewhere and thought it a good idea.
“What the hell can I write about today thought Howard?”
- it’s hot – done that.
- Sunday – done that.
- another blank page – done that.
- getting old and fat – done that ( too many times ).
- time for some role play fantasy, but it sounded like an overweight computer nerd cliche.
- time for a cigarette, shit it was always time for a cigarette.
Howard got back from the fag and thought about closing off this last bit of writing. He’d probably have no time till the next holidays and judging by the nonsense he’d written today, hadn’t much to say. He had written something though – so it wasn’t a total waste of time. Howard added a post script … If you feel that you’ve wasted your valuable time reading this, he would surely apologise if you contacted him. Try it, you might take his day a little brighter.