Notes and queries – By @currantjones
By Tommy Curran
Notes and queries
We have been told by various mentors and comedy coaches to keep notes. This is something I have done sporadically for years. I wanted to dive back into the splendid thoughts I considered worthy of saving for time immemorial.
It is hard to comprehend the extent to which someone putting up with my extensive neuroses is an act of generosity. Being aware of one’s failings does not seem enough to make one aware of the efforts being made by another in the course of a relationship. In my mind I am ready to speak at length on her ills but I don’t comprehend that she’s doing the same in her own. How can I know that I’m fucked and yet be furious at her for not being perfect?
21-year old Philosophy student wonders why his girlfriend has more empathy than him. It will take him several more years to discover that referring to one’s self as ‘one’s self’ will not make you any friends.
Dog love me
Cat respect other
Rat sly enemy
White joe k want to forget
Red dan love
Orange each good friend
Yellow laura won’t forget
Coffee bitter sex
Ocean fear your life
I have absolutely no idea what this is. There seems to be some sort of Zodiacal theme at the beginning but then some of my friends’ names randomly interspersed. I might rework this into a beat poem.
This is where we die
Start of second-year university exams.
My life is a life lived alone. It is enjoyed, as far as it is enjoyed, alone. The addition is appreciated only on a temporary basis. So love must be some other state of affairs. One which demands absence not presence.
End of second-year university exams. Literally one day before I started my longest relationship.
Man is an unsympathetic, irrational and close minded creature, distinct in their belief that they are sympathetic, rational and broad minded.
#deep. Although somewhat undercut by the shift from the singular to the plural and the lack of hyphenation.
You failed last night because I’m not angry. I’m sad and I’m sorry but I’m not angry. Perhaps you were mentally unbalanced. Perhaps you didn’t get the care you needed. The pain of fighting your own brain all day, everyday was too much. I cannot be anything but sorry. For you, for those suffered and those who will continue to suffer. I’m sorry that as a nation and a world misunderstand and mistreat mental health. But I’m not angry.
Perhaps you were angry. Anger loves company and seeks to remake the world in its image. It’s a roiling ball at the centre of our mass, that is barbed and scalding. You want me to feel that same rage that same pain, so that I may in turn pass it on. But I won’t. Because I’m not angry.
When you come down in the morning and find that the dog has shit on the living room floor, anger doesn’t help. A retaliatory strike on the dog’s bed is ultimately going to be something else for you to clean up. All you can do compose yourself, tidy up and try and find a way to ensure it doesn’t happen again.
I don’t remember what caused me to write this but some of the writing isn’t bad, despite being riddled with typos. The middle section is particularly pleasing.
That’s enough for now. Looking through these notes has been eye-opening. Thoughts that I had last week turn out to be things I’ve been thinking for years. I found hidden jokes, some good some very not. For someone who is cursed with a poor long-term memory, journalising is a blessing. So go out, by a moleskin or put Notes on your home screen and get jotting.