Rhetorical questions round a rectangular dining table
Vol.8 Is it worth monetising my writing here? Will REM ever get back together? And does anyone need a Podcast wingman?
Vol.8 Is it worth monetising my writing here? Will REM ever get back together? And does anyone need a Podcast wingman?
Regular readers of my rhetorical questions series will be well acquainted with the notion of my positing so many rhetorical questions and so if you’re new here, firstly welcome, please help yourself to the chocolate biscuits and relax! You’re in the hands of a professional. Secondly, please do not question as to why I’m starting with the titular questions above before tangentially veering towards to an old song from R.E.M as frankly I’m the one tasked with asking the questions, rhetorical or otherwise, and your role here is simply to enjoy the biscuits and hopefully the twisted tangential ride. I’m a questions guy and whilst some are serious, many are less so but I do love questions as I hope they lead to yet more questions and hopefully along the way they open a debate or a conversation and if the stars align, they’ll lead to more than simple answers to the rhetorical questions I’ve posted in the opening title of this article. Who wants simple answers? Who wants a binary response? Who would rather a litany of varying answers that may indeed lead to a more desired and thought provoking response? The answer is probably me, but then again, I’m a questions guy.
And anyway, what’s the frequency Kenneth?
“I wrote that protagonist as a guy who’s desperately trying to understand what motivates the younger generation, who has gone to great lengths to try and figure them out, and at the end of the song it’s completely fucking bogus. He got nowhere”.
The above quote is taken from Wikipedia and attributed to REM lead singer Michael Stipe and much like the lyrical content of the song: “I never understood, the frequency, uh-huh” and “You said that irony was the shackles of youth” this has always chimed loudly with me. Why? Well on a superficial level I’ve never understood the frequency of life let alone the random attack on Dan Rather, a USA journalist, and an attack that forms a loose basis for the song in the first place. Nor am I at one with the youth of today being as I am approaching my fiftieth year here on Planet Starbucks and the 3rd rock from the nearest shopping mall. Irony is a lost concept now, swamped by a world drowning in its own inversion.
I’ll take the rain as it’s the end of the world as we know it, but do you feel fine? I lost my religion long ago and wish I had the balls to go night swimming but I’ve never been a particularly shiny, happy person and neither have I been all the way to Reno. Do you believe they put a man on the moon? I rather prefer the collage my twisted mind evokes of the Stanley Kubrick theory twisted through the comedic logic of Andy Kaufman for my surreal answer and if you see me DJ’ing at the end of the world, I’d walk rather briskly in the opposite direction if I were you. Everybody hurts? Well that’s as maybe, but can I direct you to the last album issued by these geniuses from Athens, Georgia and entitled Collapse Into Now and maybe this will assuage some of your hurt? It’s an album of pure musical heart and so is Monster from which we have the What’s The Frequency, Kenneth tune, and an album I queued up for outside my local HMV on a cold morning now nearly three decades ago.
Will REM ever get back together? As much as I love Michael, Mike and Peter I hope they don’t return for a last hurrah and perhaps sully their incredible musical history, but who knows? I’m too supernatural and superserious for a rhetorical question such as this and I’m just going to sing for the submarine and continue to be at my most beautiful as a day sleeper instead.
Sleeping in the daytime, or that dangerous nap that prevents someone like me from then drifting off quickly into a sound night’s sleep is ironically the inspiration and impetus for this latest round of rhetorical questions rattling around inside the empty void of my daydreaming mind. I just got too comfortable yesterday afternoon after singing What’s The Frequency, Kenneth to a startled teenage son and before I knew it I was regaling him with tales of this amazing American band, their influence over the English band Radiohead and the meanings I’ve derived from their songs over the years. My disinterested son no doubt breathed a huge sigh of relief as I drifted off into both a reverie and then a deep afternoon sleep and upon waking I knew I had a long night ahead of me. So rather than twist and turn in a vain attempt at sleep I returned to my notebook and the green inked scribbles that laughably resemble a set of writing ideas and I could no longer shake the questions that gnaw at the marrow of my very being.
People may say I’m a dreamer, but I scoff and I retort that I bet I’m not the only one, and I’ve followed many of my passions throughout my life. But it dawned on me that I’ve written a blog for a decade now and only stopped when on a love hiatus and chasing that uncatchable dream of being a responsible adult in a responsibility laden loving relationship. I’m always writing: notes, ideas, concepts, gags, and all the way to a digital Reno and the penned words you’re reading as you collapse into now in The Matrix. I’m increasingly never more happier than right at this moment, right now, and allowing my fingers to follow the drumbeat of my scrambled mind. I love the idea of a fresh page, a couple of loose tangents and a piping hot cup of tea for company. And why not? Why not allow yourself to actually enjoy your passion? But this really is me at my most beautiful and more importantly happiest, a blinkered mind from a virtually real world that I lost recognition of a long time ago. Do I monetise, or try to monetise, this blog now and become a member of the “Partner Program”? Would that devalue my otherwise (hopefully) unique style of writing? Is it worth it? How can I spread the digital word further and into other media platforms? Do I start a Go Fund Me or Patreon account? Can I? Would someone donate to me just for the pleasure (stop laughing!) of reading my ramblings? What added extras could I offer behind a paywall?
Those afternoon naps can be a dangerous route to late night madness, of that I’m sure, but I’m equally certain that I both dislike and distrust that universal concept we all agree on and otherwise know as “real life”. The past two years have given me ample confirmation of this. And so I’ve commenced writing again, and in earnest, and more importantly I’m never happier than in this very writing moment of now. But I raise the questions above as frankly I’m not certain there’s a positive answer to be had and hence another dream is destined to be dashed.
So does anyone out there in The Matrix fancy a wingman for their podcast?
Unlike many things in life I was very definitely ahead of the podcast curve and an early adopter of the concept and still occasionally smile at the conversations of what seems like a bygone age when I’d say I heard XYZ on a podcast and the response would be “What’s a podcast?”. Innocent times eh? Nearing my fiftieth year I grew up with the explosion of talk radio in the early 1990’s and so podcasts were manna from heaven for me and advertisement free in those early halcyon days. I still listen to many now as I absently minded stare into the middle distance and try to make myself laugh or sing a REM song badly out of both time and indeed tune. Creating a podcast seems both all the rage and as easy as can be these days, but still a touch too technological for my liking and although I have a couple of stone cold killers for ideas, I worry I’ll dive headlong into yet another passion that I’ll never see a fruitful occupation run in tandem to my daydreaming passions. But I love the freedom of podcasts and the humanity of conversing with others soothes my soul, but I can’t see myself leading a podcast. So if you’re in need of a wingman, I’m open to persuasion.
The one great idea I have is probably already covered within the multitude of podcasts now available but that’s no real barrier. The actual barrier itself is that whilst it’s not about me or my life, it is dependant upon the interviewee and thus I’m the interviewer and that’s where the trouble may indeed start. A not particularly technologically gifted podcaster with zero interviewing experience doth not a podcast make. Or maybe it does? I worry I’ll fall apart like a wet newspaper and who needs to see that? I read a recent blog of mine aloud to a son who just stared at me like a dog being shown a card trick (thank you Bill Hicks) so perhaps it’s better I stay with the green inked notes of my day job?
But alas it’s not a day job at all and I so want it to be as writing these odes to nothingness and rhetorical questions of dubious quality, as well as the other voluminous ramblings of mine see me firmly seated in my happiest of happy places and I just wish it could be that carefree vocation for the rest of my days here on Planet Starbucks, where everything is a copy of a copy.
“I used to think. As birds take wing. They sing through life so why can’t we?”
Michael Stipe, REM, “I’ll Take The Rain”.
Thanks for reading. If you’ve enjoyed this tangential spool through a splintered mind and the questions that arise from its murky depths, here are a few of the forerunners in this particular series. You can find the rest, if you dare, via my archives.
Rhetorical questions round a rectangular dining table
Volume 1: Why does uncertainty kill? Why don’t I answer the telephone? And why are there more questions than answers?medium.com
Rhetorical questions round a rectangular dining table
Vol 3. Swiping left and right at internet dating. Should you believe in the future? And is long form writing now…medium.com
Rhetorical questions round a rectangular dining table
Vol 5. First impressions, lasting impressions and why is Elon Musk supporting the Canadian truckers?medium.com