Thursday, May 16, 2013
Mr. Blue. Parker and a diary
I had Mr. Blue. Parker, a diary etched with my name and an ambition ringing in my ears like a police siren.
I was a woman in a hurry!
But like always, with all things in a hurry to catch the first cab, job or boyfriend, there were bound to be broken heels along the way, potholes inviting me with open arms and the next hurrying knight elbowing my ribs painfully to come first in the race!
So as to say, the diary, the first nemesis of a whole lot to come, was refusing to cooperate. But I too was not the kind to let go of it without a good, soul satisfying brawl!
The diary was the usual kind, although much appreciated by the army of office goers taking orders, it had nothing much to offer to my creative rebellious spirit. The horizontal lines were too close for comfort, and halfway through the pages there were boxes with bold capitalized color coded dates and days fighting to take away half the page…..just like siblings forced to share a bed and if that was not enough there were grandmother sayings and old school morals scribbled in whatever little space left on the top and the bottom!
So where was I supposed to write? In corners? like within the black triangles of photo albums! God!
Have you ever scribbled in a diary? Not the anniversary or birthday reminders or grocery items but trying to put down memories? You must have.…everyone who knows how to write or draw….. poetry or drawing hearts with arrows or daggers passing through, did this at some point of time, if not on new diaries then old unused ones. And as you must have realized writing a diary or in a diary is difficult.
Let me tell you why…
Firstly the whole process associated with a diary makes it sound as mundane as a 9 to 5 job.
Secondly with the good memories trapped in photographs, what is left to write are the ones in-between the photographs : Mostly the unhappy kinds where the sole purpose is to seek revenge against a certain person at a later date! So in the very beginning, the narrow lines suffice the unhappiness but as your anger and frustration builds up, every word becomes bigger or smaller….it’s size directly proportional to your frenzy in the process occupying more horizontal lines than the notebooks used by kids to learn cursive writing!
Sadly, despite all the discipline dictated by the lines, the words take off and land at irregular intervals making the script look like a Picasso painting, that which most of us will have to stand on our head to understand!
But anyways, I had to write and so I began to write.
At least Mr. Blue. Parker turned out docile! Thank God it did not spread the two legs of its tip a full 180 degree against the page like a ballet dancer!
The first words had to be fancy, lacy, so as to give the rest of my words the magnetic beauty, the lunatic self adoration and the hypnotic dance that makes show business what it is!
Of course I thought of writing as a show business! Then again, which business is not show business?
I went in search for styles. Times roman, Calibri and such normal pedestrian looking was not for me. For me it would be Victorian Edwardian something with all its twists and turns like mountain roads adorned with angel wings. It should give me and my writing a sense of the age old romantic royalty from the 13 –14 century that only wines, poetry and the court of kings have, the times when men wore wigs and superman batman capes while trudging around in knee high socks and football shoes and women tied their breasts around their neck like chokers !
I chose the fanciest possible.
Well, it turned out to be : difficult to write and impossible to read. The whole first word seemed to be made of creepers entwined amongst themselves, while crawling over some old fortress and getting nowhere. It turned out to be more like a snake ladder game than any word.
Oh, the perils of fashion! Yet, it looked splendid like those backless frontless gowns pinned on by movie stars even in snowing winters!
It was almost as if I had learned calligraphy, the Chinese Japanese typos but then neither did I have the time nor the space in my diary to become a painter!
I decided to be straight, forward and fast. And for the sake of my sanity and vision I decided to be simple .
The world out there was waiting for me.
I told myself, I would use the complicated snake things to be sent to agents and publishers to get their attention! I know they love all things old and such fancy choker times . Haven’t you seen the way they keep reprinting the Shakespeare ’s and the Tolstoy’s?
I would then, when time comes, entice them to submit to my whims. Of course if the snakes and angel wings would kill their vision or understanding, I would send reminders! At least that was the plan.