Viduity

I mentioned Krapp’s Last Tape before. I was never sure how to take the “hero”. Is he a comic or tragic figure? He is ridiculous as well as doomed so, both I guess. His yearly review of life seems automatic and a bit purposeless. When listening to recordings of his previous self he is appalled and bewildered. At one point he hears himself use the word “viduity” [period of being a widow] and is utterly baffled as to what it means.

Over the last week I have re-read three novels by Patrick McCabe and have been in the same state of bafflement. I mean I had already read these novels but could scarcely remember them. Where did they go? As I said I have given up reading from my iPad and so the only paper books I have are those  have already read. Patrick McCabe is my favourite writer from this island. His nightmare world of psychopaths, murderers, perverts - every kind of maniac conceivable – makes him the man I would  never  want to be.

The public and private personas of men in the novels of Pat McCabe are terrifying gothic monstrosities. Their minds are diseased, disturbing and horribly claustrophobic. No-one would want to know or be like any of the men from The Butcher Boy , Breakfast on Pluto, Call me the Breeze or Winterwood.   Take Francie Brady’s father in the Butcher Boy An alcoholic, wife beating, narcissist. With men like that viduity sounds like the better option. 

Resolutions

The first time I read Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape I remember thinking that Krapp was old. Not just the version of Krapp who reflected Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back” but, also the version speaking from the “spool” recorded on his 39th birthday. Now, for me, 39 is a distant memory and  I have none of the fire he was on about as an old (dying – his last tape) man.  Well,  I am not aware of any burning sensations. This year is 5 days old. You’re supposed to talk about resolutions at this time. My new year resolutions:  I have decided to stop using my iPad and phone in bed. I have decided to stop drinking alcohol. Again. I will succeed at both because, while I may not have any of Krapp’s fire I have a leaden stubbornness that has grown like a tumour ever since I started running.



I doubt that these New Year resolutions have any meaning. But then I doubt that there is any meaning in anything. Maybe starting with Beckett was a bad idea – the succinctness of his description of life “They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more” has always seemed definitive for me. Well, nearly as definitive as saying nothing and doing nothing.  For that matter, his description of the choice to slap a coat of style over the void similarly rings true: “a bow tie around a throat cancer”.



So why bother making any New Year resolutions? Maybe none of it means anything. I guess the demand that these things should mean something is a mistake. Maybe if I had children I would see more meaning? But I am not sure. I have dogs and nieces and a god child. I love them all – they give life meaning. I see that that this is a circular argument but I don’t really care. Actually, that’s why I like running, you know. Nobody fucking asks  - what does this mean?  You just run and run and then you’re tired and you sleep. And now that I have stopped poisoning my body and my brain with iPads and booze I  hope I will sleep better.