I was musing with fellow Joup associates Chester Whelks and Kitty in Manchester UK about six weeks ago wondering about the streets of Withington about 2 miles south of city center. They told me about the burrow and its charm and pitfalls. We ate and drank at a couple of different pubs. We talked about life…and music…and art…and hopes…and aspirations. We also discussed about how I’ve lost the will to write. I told them of how it seemed there were so many people writing on the internet now, recording podcasts or producing video content that it was just overkill and disheartening. Then they, as good mates do, advised me. Kitty offered that I should just start writing and not worry what comes out. Just do it as an exercise and continue to see what happens; you could find a very strong passion again.
Chester also advised me in the form of a quote from Nick Cave which is quite long so I’ll break it down into 3 parts.
The Sunday Song Poem #8 ‘Midwifery’ (1975) Norris the Troubadour
“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!” …that’s what I’d be saying to you if you were here in England, and you had perpetuated your race by having heretofore squeezed a 6lb genetic portmanteau of yourself and whomever’s propagatory fluids had found their way up into your guts 9 month previously. It’s a miracle, a four-times-a-second miracle. But somewhere around the end of the Middle Ages, something went terribly wrong, as humans suddenly lost the ability to spawn as efficiently as they had since the inception of their species.