I’m finding the writing process more challenging and significantly less cathartic of late. The strain of being a full-time carer for my mum, and having to write in sporadic spurts due to higher priority chores, diminishing the esprit ordinarily imparted by penning prose.
In particular, I’m finding writing in my favoured genre of whimsy tough at the moment. I guess this diminishing jocular thought and deed is collateral damage born from yours truly’s prevailing lifestyle discontentment.
With yours truly current relationship with my mother fraught at best, I’m finding it increasingly tough avoiding a mental descent into Pagliacci’s world. Leoncavello’s operatic character, the sad clown who initially kept to himself his disenchantment at learning his wife had taken a lover. Pag’s tortured notions conveyed in the opera’s aria ‘Vesti La Giubba’.
A beautiful yet lugubrious lament in which, despite his sadness at learning of spousal infidelity, the clown decides the show must go on. His melancholic pre-show thoughts playing out as follows:-
“Act! While in delirium, I no longer know what I say, or what I do! And yet it’s necessary… Make an effort! Bah! Are you not a man? You are a clown! Put on your costume, powder your face. The people pay, and they want to laugh.”
Although my own particular irk isn’t born from losing a lover (I’ve not got one to lose), along with not weeping at my fate, there are parallels to GJ Strachan’s life. Including a prevailing adoption of a cheery facade. Overt exhibitions of mischievous and whimsical behaviour which, despite inferences to the contrary, are utter shams.
In candour, my disingenuous acts of chirp have been more frequent of late. A consequence of bearing such low mood that even if I could buy Oompah Loompahs on Amazon my genuine fervour levels would’ve still lain in the gutter.
That being said, now that a large proportion of the more time consuming chores, such as garden timber preservation and a flora and fauna overhaul, have concluded there’ll be more scope for moi to indulge in creative pastimes.
Consequently, writing and sketching free time, allowing me to pursue my ‘go to’ diversions from life’s more challenging vignettes, will be more prevalent in the coming days/weeks. This hopefully a catalyst to produce more cheerful and fruitfully creative output.
Not to mention, providing me time to search for Oompah Loompahs who’d affording me respite from looking after my mum…….. Circumstances which if they came to fruition, to borrow from an old UK cellphone network tagline, would turn my future both bright and orange.
To close. At the opera’s conclusion Pagliacci kills his wife Columbina and her lover before the stage play closes with the sombre observation “La commedia è finita!!” – A celebrated line translating into English as “The comedy is finished!”
I’d like to clarify at this point, I’ve no intention of undertaking anything as drastic as vengeful (or indeed non-vengeful) homicide to ease my frustration. I neither hold that level of psychosis, or deem my lot would be improved by spending the rest of my life in prison.
Before I go, does anyone know where you can buy Oopah Loompahs?