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In Irish Mist, Local projects, Revision on August 20, 2014 at 9:11 am

The craziness of it all. A boy gets beaten because of his ethnic origin. Survives with neurological and cognitive sequels, but the family is still out on the street because their unsanitary slum has been destroyed. Where? Right here, in France. I could line up local, regional, national and international instances of craziness but so can everyone else. A quick look at the headlines: your guaranteed daily dose of horrors.

In the pile of reading material by my bed: Levels of Life by Julian Barnes. I can’t describe it as current reading. Thus far, I’ve been cowed by the blurb on the cover page. The Independent says: “Anyone who has loved and lost can’t fail to be moved by this devastating book.”

I guess there’s only so much devastation I wish to tackle at the end of the day. Of course since I’m mentioning the book here, that’s a sure sign I’ll delve into it soon, devastating or not.

But first, the mundane, the trivial, the ground-level necessities and obligations. Plus, a walk up to the first floor, writing-wise i.e. revisions to my own attempts at capturing some of the craziness, both good and bad.

What elates and devastates at eighteen; at forty; at sixty; beyond. How people deal with personal and social obligations. What they make of your attempts to communicate; what you make of theirs. The dismissive; the attentive; the screwballs; the impatient; the frightened; the distracted; the missed connections; the further attempts. Etc.

Getting by. You’ll need some craziness if you don’t want the obligations to trample you into the ground.

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