I’ve been searching for a cure for Writer’s Block, but the only one that seems to work is to start writing. We shall see whether it is effective or not.
An update on me first, then perhaps some less important stuff about the rest of the universe. I’m doing ok, thank you. Half way through my three-month holiday from Oncology and so far so good on my mutated lymphocyte guerrilla army. But if I am temporarily playing hooky from the claws of Oncology, I am spending a lot of time trying to repair some of the ravages of two years of cancer treatment. Chemotherapy works on the old tested procedure of destroying villages in order to save them. Or, a more modern metaphor, on the IMF procedure of imposing austerity on countries in order to repair them
So I continue my work on the coffee table magnum opus “Medical waiting rooms of the Southern Hemisphere”, and my quest to appear in the Guinness Book of Medical Records as the person who has consulted more medical specialists than any other. Both going well.
I am also making the dog get fit by taking him on longer and longer walks each day. “No, no” he says, hiding behind the chair “not another walk, I am fit enough already”. But I insist, gotta be cruel to be kind, hurts me more than it hurts him, Rome wasn’t built in a day… Er, yes, whatever, I’m probably getting fitter too.
Need to get fit. Loins to be girded, greaves fitted, horses saddled. Just three months from an Australian election that currently looks like installing a man in the Lodge who believes in destroying Australia in order to save it for mining and media billionaires. Time for all people of goodwill to try to prevent this disaster. Tony Abbott is a man not fit for purpose.
Unlike James Gandolfini whose premature and sad death, unable to be saved by medical specialists, was announced this week. If ever there was a man made for a dramatic role, and a role made for a man, it was Gandolfini and Tony Soprano. Right up there with Ian McShane/Al Swearengen, and Bryan Cranston/Walter White (Cranston graciously immediately acknowledging his great acting debt to Gandolfini).
I didn’t know Gandolfini of course, except as that enormously complex character Tony Soprano, but the obituaries suggest he was a very nice man. Another death recently, of someone who was a great friend, did affect me greatly personally. It was quick, and in the end shockingly sudden, another victim of that Grim Reaper Cancer, and I shall miss him a lot after a 40 year friendship.
This week had lunch with another old friend, also with cancer (is there more of it about, or am I just more sensitised to it?). She fortunately is having successful treatment, and conversely was pleased to see me “looking well”, having recently seen a friend with cancer who wasn’t. I saw her just after going to the pro-renewable energy rally, organised to oppose the fools on the Hill, led by Mr Jones, trying to stop wind power. Our rally was, pleasingly, ten times bigger. Equally pleasing was the mix of old and young people. The earth is being destroyed in order to exploit it, and we urgently need to start repairing the ravages of that exploitation. Wind Power is a critically important (as Jones and his promoters know) part of that repair, and we all need to stand up and be counted on this issue too.
So all kinds of reasons to get my Writer’s Block sorted and out of the way – work to be done, head to be cleared.
I wonder if my cure has worked.