Cai’s Blog

The latest challenge that I’ve been set is to explore the stream of consciousness form of writing.

Stream of consciousness ( SOC ) is a literary technique in the form of a narrative mode. It’s been around a while and is generally attributed to May Sinclair. It is worth noting that the term ( SOC ) has crossed over from the realms of psychology.  The first author which pops into mind when I think of this technique is Salman Rushdie although he doesn’t over use this technique I’ve noticed him using it in ‘Midnight Children.’

Now unfortunately for me, I’m not a talented writer. I don’t have a natural gift to just pick up new techniques, this meant that my first attempt at this was an abysmal failure. In defiance of my lecturer I’ve decided to research this and try and make a really good go of this.

I can simple say to you that I’m approaching this piece by writing down all the internal vocalisations that the character is having. What do I mean by internal vocalisations you ask? Well it’s merely the little voice you get in your head when you think. ( Well at least I get one ) I’m sure there is more to this however this seems like a good starting place.

And now without much adue my first second attempt at the stream of consciousness.

No one knows

Oh god… Why do I do this to myself? Bleergh! Not again. I feel so weak. What did I dri- Bleergh! Oh my god, my head hurts. I can’t feel my face. Hnngh Hnngh Hnnnn-Blergh! I’m shaking. At there’s nothing left in me. Hnn-ack ack! I’ve gotta get up. The floor is moving… Shit my knee! Oh no… I’ve gotta get up. I can’t stay here. Hnnngh… What was his name again? It’s not good being stuck to the toilet. Hnngh… The floor is cold. It’s chilling. My hands, my knees, my face my breasts. It’s all grey. Why is it all grey? It’s freezing. Who is he?! I’ve gotta get up. I don’t get it. I didn’t drink that much last night. Shit… I cant remember his name. Is he still in the house?

….

Christopher Nemo watched his latest victim from a distance. It was a sick voyeuristic pleasure that he took viewing, like a cheap stripper, Jen stumbling around the bathroom naked and otherwise incapacitated. Nemo was a predator a nasty piece of work to say the least. Normally he hunted the girls… Last night however was a treat, Jennifer Forlorne came to him. The bar she walked into was well known, her clothes, respectable and above all her demeanour friendly . All the things you’d expect from a young London bank clerk on a night out.

Jennifer spotted Nemo from across the bar. At first… A wink then a ‘come hither.’ One word ‘Hello’ turned into many utterances. Many utterances led to one drink. One drink turned into many… and when the fine young lady pops to the loo… Ro-hyp-nol. Nemo’s little white friend rears his ugly head once again. Jen and Chris go back to her place and make sweet, sweet love.

Nemo gets a free place to stay, a woman to stay with and anything he can lay his hands on and get away with. She gets sex she didn’t want, her things stolen, a hangover that won’t go away anytime soon and a damn dirty feeling

Too bad… you lose.

This brings us back to this pretty little scene. Nemo does this for a living and takes great satisfaction in his work.

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Most people who read this are not interested in my life. They don’t wish to read silly little things about someone that they have never met. However for my close friends and anybody kind enough to show interest in how I think. I’m going to share with you a very profound moment in my life.

In order to respect the privacy of the people involved in this I am not going to name names. However yesterday was a profound experience for me indeed.

One of my best friends has a sister who sadly and unfortunately had a miscarriage very late in the pregnancy. I’ve never really felt at ease with her because the child which lost his life shared a name with me. Although the spelling is different our names are pronounced in exactly the same way. Yesterday I went to visit the little boy’s grave which was in a local area, I don’t really know why but it seemed the right thing to do.

It was a dreay day. The skys were overcast, the air was chilled, the grass was plush under our feet. A light rain was falling. A truly Welsh day on the coast. A little chapel, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, completely lonely lost in the Welsh hills. This was where my friend’s family had come to for many things. He was christened there, his siblings were married there and Kai was buried in the graveyard outside.

My blood ran icy cold, my heart slowed and my nerves wavered as we approached the grave. There was no gravestone as such but merely some of Kai’s toys marking where the boy was laid to rest.

Being there was definitely on of the strangest moments of my life thus far. The fact that we completely coincidentally shared a name and that this person had had a contact (however small) with my life was enough to make me get sort of stuck in a kind of loop.

I’m an atheist…completely. I don’t believe in god or an afterlife but grave yards completely fly in the face of what I know. Looking at that grave my soul felt pressed, uneasy and stirring. From what I know I can’t explain it. It took my friend to drag me away and to try and lighten the mood before I sort of came out of it.

Thinking about the value of names they are incredibly valuable. If you consider Romeo and Juliette, ‘What is in a name?’ says Juliette musing to herself on her balcony. Unfortunately it’s all in the name, they die because of their names. If Romeo wasn’t a Montague there would be no problem. Without a name who are you? How can you achieve anything? Although it’s not impossible it would certainly be very hard to exist with no name at all.

It’s strange to think that in some far off corner of Wales a boy that I never knew but with the same name as me has a grave… chilling

I’m sorry If I offend anyone with this but I thought the experience was worth sharing.

Has anyone else experienced anything like this?

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Good morning people!

Recently watching a documentary on ancient China has set me about thinking. The program focused on the traditional Chinese philosophical concept of the mandate of heaven. The mandate of heaven was concept that was used to decide the legitimacy of ancient Chinese emperors. The ancient Chinese believed that Heaven (in an ancient Chinese sense) would bless the authourity of a just ruler, however despotism would lead to the emperor losing the mandate of heaven. Once the mandate of heaven was lost China would fall upon bad times and it would be purely a matter of time until the currently ruling dynasty would fall.  Later, introduced from this pattern of rising and falling dynasties, came the concept of a dynastic cycle which outlined a relatively detailed process whereby dynasties came into power, prospered and became decedent and fell again.

The big implication of the mandate of heaven is that leaders need not be of noble birth. They need only be the person most fit to rule and that the rulers of ancient were obliged to treat their subject fairly and well.

This is a opposed to the concepts of divine right on which modern Islamic denominations are based (a lot of tension stems from the arguments as to who was prophet Mohammad’s legitimate successor). The divine right of kings and hereditary rule is a more European (forgive the expression) concept which is very similar to the divine right. The big implications of both these systems were that the monarch has no obligations to his people and so can treat them as a despot if he so wishes (and can get away with it.)

China for many centuries was ahead of Europe. This is unsurprising in the light of the difference in systems that they had for choosing their leaders. Where as the Europeans were getting mis-treated by monarch after monarch until 1215 A.D. when Magna Carta was signed. Magna Carta introduced some responsibility into the monarchy. Compare this to when the Mandate of heaven came into being with the Zhou dynasty in 1122 B.C. and we can see that the Chinese empire had one heck of a head start on the Europeans.

It is therefore pretty easy to see why the Chinese were far superior to Britain back in the days of yore.

Comments anyone?

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So why I am I here you ask?

Well in all honesty I don’t really know… Recently my A level English teacher has spoken about the wonders of blogging and how it give authours a chance to publish (nearly) anything they like. So here I amexploring what this is all about.

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