Fisherman of the Mind

Fisherman of the Mind ©

By

Michael Casey

I had looked at the morning papers and I was musing about what to pick to talk about today, in actual fact I was thinking about Gary Oldman’s Churchill while I had a pee. Well you want honesty, ok, too much information perhaps. So I washed my hands of Churchill and was about to go out shopping for our daily bread when Fisherman of the Mind entered my head. So that’s how I came to choose today’s piece.

I can put in a few items from the news so you can track when I wrote or rather talked about this and that. Then clever people on inane game shows can show off their knowledge about the Complete Works of Michael Casey. When I first started writing the lads in the computer room drew a cartoon of me as Shakespeare. I also got Mark Alder to draw a picture of an octopus on roller skates surrounded  by computer terminals. This was our life after all. I wish I still had those cartoons, Mark was Debbie’s cousin, but that’s enough of my past working life for now.

As you know I say everything is in the soup, which is my or our own life experience, so when I write I am fishing from that soup. So I really am a Fisherman of the Mind. See its simple really, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. I just tend to think tangentially or in a surreal way. It’s called Imagination, no substances required, ever. Some bad boys think they are better with a bit of help, in the end they just jump off buildings, so just say no.

When you are fishing you need a bit of bait, or you have to trawl. What kind of fisherman are you? You may have a flash car or designer this or that. You may even be a footballer, image footballers reading my stuff. Ha Ha Ha. Though Premier League footballers all speak English as a 2^nd language, managers too. Which reminds me my stuff could be used to help teach English. See I’m shameless I’ll insert my advert into my own writing.

You may just trawl for that girl, or job or house. Everything is hard won, you had to visit 45 bars before you found the girl of your dreams. Her heel got caught in a drain so you pulled her out and you both ended in the gutter.BUT you both laughed, and that was it, you had met the girl of your dreams, in the gutter, but you were both now looking at the stars. See Oscar Wilde is to blame for everything. But she had the keys to a dry cleaning shop and together you talked while the machines cleaned your clothes.

So that’s two examples of fishing, as a writer I can elaborate and push the story this way or that way. Go for the laugh, which I mainly do, or I can try and make you all think. You may start talking amongst yourselves and discuss how Lech and Boris and Gregorgi met their wives. You may even insinuate his wife was a mail order wife. Or used to be a man, or maybe was still a pig, not the Police kind either.

It depends how cruel you are feeling, or how much beer you’ve had to drink. Or he could have married your sister, and you married his sister. By using words and ideas I am scattering breadcrumbs in the waters of your minds. That reminds me of this, or that reminds me of that, or that certainly reminds me of the other. Which as you all know means something else in English. Then you laugh and reach for the sandwiches and more beer. If you have stopped reading me to talk amongst yourselves then that’s perfect as far as I am concerned. Because this Fisherman of the Mind, has turned your 5 loaves and 2 fishes into family laughter and fun.

Now I could have stopped with the tag line loaves and fishes or saved it to the end. But that’s what boring writers do, those you read online, who only have one style because they cannot write,or they are not allowed to. The joy of being a Fisherman of the Mind is that I can plunder 55years worth of my own memories plus all the stuff I’ve bumped into along the way. There was a book once called the joy of sex, so when I just wrote joy a connection came to mind so I had another sentence to tease you all with.

And the word tease leads to strip tease, so now I have another sentence to tease or arouse you with. You are all reading or rather watching as a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England slowly removes his sentences one by one. Are you all getting excited as first I reveal an adjective, then maybe a verb, then another adjective. Slow, slow quick quick slow, a dance of erotic adverbs. On on they rain down,one by one, till the writer is naked before you.

There was a rush for the bathroom then as Boris puked and Lech had to go outside into 2 metres of snow to avoid all the adjectives. Such is the power of this Fisherman of the Mind. Lech comes back with a shovel, is he going to dig his tractor out? No, he’s going to bury Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham in an unmarked grave. Maybe he’ll mark it with some yellow snow.