Queeni

Queeni

Stirling North, Australia

Toilet Paper Bible - A Letter to my Grandson

As a child my mother, your great grandmother, would wrinkle up her beak saying “She’d read toilet paper if there was writing on it”. ‘She’ not being the cat’s mother but moi, the first born child. No don’t upset yourself lad, she was as evil a witch as was ever born.

Reading was a refuge, my fantasy world. It was true I would read anything. Old magazines rescued from the neighbors’ rubbish piles caused contention, turning the pages too loudly upset the mother.

After my lifetime of providing free stand up comedy, the court jester in tea- rooms, workplaces and team building workshops, I realised that there was something to say. In fact there was so much that needed to be said, the only choice for me was to learn how to share it all.

Does anyone care that it was only a couple of years ago that I realised Freddie Mercury was gay? Probably not. It is the maintenance of perpetual naiveté that allows a person to see the real world, and still be horrified at what passes for ‘ok’.

No no no it’s not about gay people, its about children in detention camps, aboriginal people sleeping in tents, homeless people, abused children, the poor, the destitute, the sad, the crazy. It’s about nuclear power stations, uranium mining, global warming, saving the River Murray. Get it??? What did you learn at that school kid? Well at least you can read.

How do people survive in a world where their only skills are humour and naiveté? They learn the hard way. I learned that writing real letters to real newspapers, real politicians and a variety of other real organisations did not help matters. In fact they just did not understand me at all, I ended up on the scrap heap, labeled a serial pest.

It took a while but slowly and with much encouragement from a good friend, no not a bloody boyfriend, they were all useless. Anyway on with the story lad, it’s nearly rest time. I discovered that to get people to listen, you have to give them something back.

Humans’ do not want to see the truth about their actions, unless you can point the finger at a BAD GUY. See what I mean?? I had no choice but to write the novel of the century, with thrilling characters, such depth. A person bought what they thought was just a book and discovered that they themselves could do something about all the bad things in the world today. It gave them courage; it let them feel compassion, it made them empathetic.

Yes I know Mark Latham tried to do the same thing, but he told the truth. You have to learn to weave the truth into something beautiful, fictional and do-able.

So that was how you ended up sitting on your fat lazy arse doing bugger all. Help me outta this chair.

Journal Comments

  • Whirligig
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