Johnny Cash: A Tribute to the Man in Black

It might sound strange, a 22-year-old girl from the northeast of England, paying tribute to someone from a completely different generation.

However, there is a very good reason for this.

I finally finished Cash’s autobiography earlier this week, after struggling through for the past five months.

It wasn’t a struggle because it was badly written or uninteresting, but rather because my brain wouldn’t work.

Halfway through, I just couldn’t read anymore. Not just that, but anything.

Not any other books, stories, newspapers or magazines.

I fell out of love with reading, you could say, and this was an incredibly disastrous occurrence.

I love nothing more than delving into a good book and getting lost for a few hours. So, to be unable to do that was really difficult.

I knew why I couldn’t read anymore, but I didn’t understand it. It was as though a part of myself had died.

My love of literature had died and I was devastated.

Anyway, I’m veering from the point of my blog now, which is paying tribute to Johnny Cash of course.

As I said, I’ve finally finished his autobiography and what a read it was!

I found a strange affinity with a lot of parts of his story.

Just to set things straight though, I’ve never been addicted to drugs in the way he was, I’m not as musically talented as he was and nor did I grow up in the southern states of the USA 50 years ago!

However, when it comes to what Cash writes about grief, then I can identify.

Having experienced grief a few times in my life, I found the following passage so poignant to how I felt, and still feel at times:

"Losing Jack was terrible. It was awful at the time and it's still a big, cold sad place in my heart and soul. There's no way around grief and loss: you can dodge it all you want, but sooner or later you just have to go into it, through it, and, hopefully, come out the other side. The world you find there will never be the same as the world you left."

I’ve always felt alone in my grief. My pain. My heartache.

But the above passage just reminded that everyone feels exactly the same when dreadful things happen.

Yes; different people react in different ways. There is no set course for how grief will affect you. How it will utterly change your life and your outlook on life.

One thing I have learnt, from what Cash wrote and from my own experiences, is that you do come out the other side – even though for so long it was virtually impossible to see that other side, it is there.

And when you climb through, even though the world is a completely different place - emptier too in some respects – the incredible amount of strength and wisdom you gain will never leave you.

Just to finish off, some lyrics from the man himself (although it is a cover)…

If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me.
And I will never be set free
As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.

If I could read your mind, love,
What a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind the drugstores sell.
When you reached the part where the heartaches come,
The hero would be me.
But heroes often fail,
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take!

I'd walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script.
Enter number two:
A movie queen to play the scene
Of bringing all the good things out in me.
But for now, love, let's be real;
I never thought I could act this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it.
I don't know where we went wrong,
But the feeling's gone
And I just can't get it back.

If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong.
With chains upon my feet.
But stories always end,
And if you read between the lines,
You'll know that I'm just tryin' to understand
The feelin's that you lack.
I never thought I could feel this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it.
I don't know where we went wrong,
But the feelin's gone
And I just can't get it back.

Johnny Cash, 1932-2003.

Lecture Stream Of Consciousness

Travel journalism.
User generated material!
I'm so bored. His voice makes me more sleepy. I don't care. Who cares about spa towns of Britain? Who cares how they evoke the past?
Spain is nice. I like it. I wish I could still speak fluently. Why does he have to like spain though? Spain is my country. Russia too. And Norway. I am the world. It is mine. My oyster.

So much left to do, but when can I do it all? Can I do it all? I want to do it all but what if I can't do it all? Fear. Scared. Worry. Anxiety.
Too much anxiety. Unable to sit still. Unable to concentrate.

He's reading a story. A story about his travels in Spain. I DON'T CARE.

The back of my neck hurts. I've been awake too long. Tiredness bleeds behind eyes.

Raspberries are tasty. Grey sky. Mongrel dogs? Who cares?!

I wish I had more Malteasers. These chairs are not comfy.
I wish I was better at creative writing – better poet.
There's a boy who I like but he is not here.
Vodka. Want.
Russia is my country. I want to go, know, see, learn, speak.
Hideous place. Not there, but here.

Flowers pretty springtime. Where do sunflowers grow?!
Is he talking about travel writing or the history of pesticide and drugs?
Bubbles bursting. Race riots.
Ability to entertain and bring in serious issues. I am not entertained.

My serious issue is me. I am an issue. Anxiety worry depression boredom lack of concentration need a drink metallic mouth insomnia fidget. I can't sit still

Food and travel. I like food. Malteasers, cheesecake, bananas, blueberry muffin b b b b
My appetite escapes. I want food but I don't want food.

He says he travels a lot. Lucky him. No need to rub it in. give me money – I will travel. Travel the world. My world. My oyster. To the moon and back. Man on the moon. Neil Armstrong. Strong arms. I have weak arms. Drained and exhausted.

Audio and video for mainstream media websites. Business travel.
New York! New York! The big apple. Is it red or green? Royal gala or golden delicious?

He's STILL talking. I must keep writing thinking doing. If I stop, I could pass out.

He's trying to kill me. Vendetta. He knows I don't care and he is talking (taking?) his revenge.
Revenge. A dish best served cold. How cold? Frozen

Is stream of consciousness good? Virginia Woolf Richard Hill Rosalind Hill.
Write think think write
Good for the soul. Let it all out.

I'm scared. The future. Its painful. I can feel the pain. Feel the pain of people I care about.

Lies. Lies disguised as honesty.
Honesty is the best policy. The best? Ignorance is bliss. Bliss?
Honesty hurts. Ignorance hurts. Lies hurt.

Everest – snow conditions bad.
Could I climb Everest? How long would it take? I don't even know where it is. THAT is ignorance. Not bliss.

The Guardian.
A guardian would be nice. To be looked after cared for protected.
I wish I didn't care. Maybe too much care. Care is painful too. And drugs. My mind is messy.
Messy metaphor munching mind matter and making matters more messy than metaphorical madness. Mmm mmm mmm mmm m m m m m
Madness.
Diary of a Madman (madwoman?)
Gogol Dostoevsky Stevenson Jekyll and Hyde Doppelganger Double split personality schizophrenic
Child inside wins.

Elevated music. Low rent occupation.
What is he saying?
Africa in the new century. Heart of Darkness. My heart of darkness. Black dark heart struggling to beat.
Heart attack aorta ventricle vein capillary artery
Art
Artful voyeur? Seamus Heaney Billie Holiday Good Morning Heartache
Good afternoon

Travel writing can be a lonely experience and can lead to drink.
Experience of both
Loneliness and the consuming alcohol
Consume consume consume and DESTROY

Travels in Russia and Siberia.
Jealousy. It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds upon.

Change.
I keep being promised a change. I can't believe anymore. I doubt fear worry.
13.40pm there's still 20 mins left of torture

Soviet bureaucracy
Communism socialism Marxism
Dogmatic corruption – rife, universal, encompassing
Communism fascism nationalism Catholicism, any ism. Idealism. Democracy-ism. Journalism.

Is there a point anymore? This career tortures me I want to write but they give me rules to follow. Why do I have to follow the rules?
Rules and regulation generate corruption and boredom.
Bored bored bored bored bored I want to live but I am being bored to death
Need for escape
There's silence in the room. Have I died? Or just sleeping?
Oh sleep! Precious precious sleep – how it is missed!
I think this is the most notes I've ever taken in a lecture.

The creative stimulation of BOREDOM.

Tea-rrific!

It wasn’t even midday before I was sitting in Caffe Nero, labouring over a nice cup of tea.

The day had already got off to a bad start.

I had woken at 5.30am after a night of restless ‘sleep’, tossing and turning.

I eventually dragged myself to shower at nine, only to be greeted by the screeeeeeeching halls fire alarm when I got out.

There was no way I was going downstairs! I was stark naked!

“I’ll just have to fry!” I thought.

Then, the wankers who run and work in my halls (yes, ‘wanker’ is appropriate) denied me the only pleasure I have in my life, and certainly one I look forward to upon waking…

A Nice Cup of Tea.

Admittedly, I’ve become a little obsessed (addicted?) with tea of late.

I’m not allowed to drink, and I’ve supposedly ‘given up’ chocolate and sweets for Lent.

Supposedly.

Henceforth, the NCOT (Nice Cup of Tea) has become a firm staple in my diet recently.

I truly believe that it is the drink of heaven.

But seriously, it does hold the solution to all of life’s problems, great and small.

“I’ve broken a nail!” – have an NCOT.

“I’ve failed my exams!” – NCOT.

“My brother is an idiot!” – NCOT.

Like I said; all of life’s problems!

But where does this wondrous drink come from?!

And why is it that to be a fan of tea is considered quintessentially English?!

Well, I decided to investigate and turned to the fountain of knowledge that is wikipedia…

The Science Bit.

Tea is made by steeping leaves, buds or twigs from the tea bush in hot water for a few minutes.

Obviously.

There are four basic types of true tea: black tea, oolong tea, green tea, and white tea.

The term ‘herbal tea’ usually refers to infusions of fruit or of herbs that do not contain any of the tea plant.

The tea plant itself generally grows in tropical climates, and apparently prefers acidic soils. Not being a scientist or geologist, I have no idea what this means. Sounds good though…

Tea is great. It is a natural source of caffeine and has almost no carbohydrates, fat or protein!

It also contains a type of antioxidant called catechins.

The Chinese.

The origins of human use of tea are described in several myths, but it is unknown as to where tea was first created as a drink.

One popular legend from China tells how the Emperor Shennong, known for his wisdom and scientific knowledge, believed that the safest way to drink water was by boiling it first.

One day he noticed some leaves had fallen into his boiling water.

Shennong took a sip of the brew and was surprised by its flavour and restorative properties.

Whether or not this and other legends are based on fact, it is true that tea has played a significant role in Asian culture for centuries as a staple beverage, a curative, and a symbol of status.

The Chinese have enjoyed tea for centuries, with the earliest records of tea drinking dating back to the first millennium BC.

Tea Spreads To Europe.

It is believed that tea spread to Europe during the 15th and 16th centuries, quickly becoming popular with the rich in France and the Netherlands.

English use of tea dates from about 1650.

The high demand for tea in Britain caused a huge trade deficit with China.

Using seeds smuggled from China, Britain managed to set up tea plantations in parts of India.

This created the modern tea industries of Assam tea and Darjeeling tea.

Britain also tried to balance the trade deficit by selling opium to the Chinese, which later led to the First Opium War in 1838–1842.

As a result, Great Britain established Hong Kong as a colony, largely to facilitate the trade of tea.

World War II and Beyond.

During World War II, tea was rationed.

I feel that this would have been horrific.

After the war however, Tetley launched the tea bag and it was an immediate success.

The convenience of the tea bag revolutionized how we drink our tea and now the traditional tea pot has given way to making tea in a cup using a tea bag.

And that, my friends, is the marvel of tea.

I’ve certainly learnt a lot and feel that it is about time for yet another NCOT…

I Am The Resurrection

I’m worn out. Exhausted. Drained.

The last few months and the last week in particular have eventually caught up with me. I’m not really sad anymore though. I’m not stupidly crying for no reason.

Instead, I think I’m in a state of shock. Stunned at recent and past events, and a little scared for the future.

My brain still doesn’t work though. Some days people talk to me and it just goes straight through me.

‘What?’ I ask in a daze.

I don’t know whats going on half the time. Don’t understand. Its all so confusing.

Its all so hard and just need a return to normality.

Slowly and surely though, I can see it coming.

This morning even, something clicked.

I read my horoscope courtesy of the magazine at Westminster News Online and Mystic Ed Hammond (I think he is actually psychic):

“Having narrowly escaped death last week it is time to embrace living. Don't do something amazing, the world is full of idiots doing amazing things, just do something that makes you smile.”

And then this song came onto my I-Tunes, as if heralding the whole need for ‘normal’ that I so desperately want…

Down down, you bring me down
I hear you knocking down my door and I can't sleep at night

Your face, it has no place
No room for you inside my house I need to be alone

Don't waste your words I don't need anything from you
I don't care where you've been or what you plan to do

Turn turn, I wish you'd learn
There's a time and place for everything I've got to get it through

Cut loose, cause you're no use
I couldn't stand another second in your company

Don't waste your words I don't need anything from you
I don't care where you've been or what you plan to do

Stone me, why can't you see
You're a no-one nowhere washed up baby who'd look better dead

Your tongue is far too long
I don't like the way it sucks and slurps upon my every word

Don't waste your words I don't need anything from you
I don't care where you've been or what you plan to do

I am the resurrection and I am the light
I couldn't ever bring myself to hate you as I'd like

I am the resurrection and I am the light
I couldn't ever bring myself to hate you as I'd like

‘I Am the Resurrection’ By The Stone Roses.

Book of The Day!

I love to read. A lot.

So generally I do not have one favourite book, but rather lots of favourite books for different reasons.

Books that make me laugh to books that make me cry, books that send shivers down my spine to books that act as a comfort and give me strength.

The last one might sound a little strange, but depending on what events are going on in my world or the type of mood I’m in, I can always rely on a book to escape to – to take my mind away when the going gets tough or to inspire me.

One such book is Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.

Admittedly, I’ve only read it a few times and never actually chose to read it at first. It was given as a set text as part of my English degree and I only first picked it up around a year ago.

To be honest, I thought it was complete rubbish at first but as you read on, you really get into Tess’s story.

Tess is from a poor family but is forced to claim kinship with the wealthy D’Urbervilles and seek a portion of their family fortune.

Unfortunately, it is upon meeting her ‘cousin’ that Tess’s downfall ensues.

Without spoiling the book, Tess is the epitome of a wronged woman – marginalized and made to be a scapegoat by the masculine world in which she lives.

Despite being written in the 19th century, the experiences of Tess and the themes in the novel are universal – something that people everywhere will have experienced at some point in their own lives.

Something that you can relate to.

Tess constantly seems to hit rock bottom, yet amazingly carries on. Why? Because it’s all she can do. She doesn’t give up, but gets on with life’s trials and toils.

In a weird way, this is a comfort because no matter how bad I think life might be, it’s nowhere near as terrible as the life of Tess.

Seizing The Day

I spent last week in my glorious hometown of Newcastle – partly to celebrate one of my best friend’s birthday and see all my other mates, and partly so that I could get a copious amount of hugs from the infamous Mrs. H.

Returning to London was much the same as it was after Christmas – I didn’t want to come back.

Recently, I just haven’t felt comfortable in London. Not because I don’t enjoy living here or like the people I’ve met here, but because I always feel an overwhelming need to run home and get a hug. That’s obviously the seven-year old girl inside me!

So partly to satisfy my childish need for my mum to look after me, and partly to ‘seize the day’, I made a rash but executive decision to book yet more tickets home next week.

Not good at all for my ever-dwindling bank balance, but definitely good for the soul!

I’ve learnt a lot these past few months and I’m still learning.

I’m not talking about media law or feature writing, but weird life lessons – the kind you only learn when some major event happens and you realize how precious certain things and people are to you.

Certain people - my family and my friends.

In particular, friends that I haven’t seen in such a long time because its true that you don’t know what you’ve got until its gone and it hurts to have these kind of regrets in life. Regretting that you should have called someone or seen someone, even just text someone a lot more than you did.

So I’m going back to Newcastle for a University reunion – for my old housemate’s birthday and to see all my friends who I haven’t seen since last summer. To make an effort and seize the day.

And to get a hug from Mrs. H of course!

Friends Reunited

When I was younger I heard someone say, "You can never go home again". I have never really believed this.

Coming back to Newcastle means seeing my family and of course, my friends.

These are friends that I grew up with, went to school with, first got drunk with and celebrated A-Level results with before we all went our separate ways.

I've always tried to keep in touch with a lot of these people - they are all brilliant in their own unique ways.

I don't always get to see most of them as much as I would like though. Some have moved away, some have varying work commitments and others have started families of their own - something completely remote to the world in which I revolve.

Recently a friend of mine, Daniel Bolger, got a lot of us together, including people I haven't seen for years. It was so strange to see everyone again.

Louise - my best and weirdest friend from High School.

Jenny - the girl I sat next to in GCSE Maths.

Liam - a musical genius and my drumming idol.

Gemma - my favourite playmate in Primary School.

Ryan - my High School crush for a long time.

Ruth - the RE teacher's daughter.

Of course, there were many more - such an eclectic bunch of people. People I'm proud to say I know.

Daniel too. A maths graduate from Cambridge University, an incredibly talented musician and a great person.

On November 26, Daniel was reported missing from his home in Cambridge.

On Thursday December 7, Daniel's body was found in the River Cam.

It is a tragedy that it was only an event as devastating and as crushing as this which brought my old school and college friends together.

I often regret not keeping in touch with many of the people I was such good friends with all those years ago.

I will always regret not keeping in touch with Dan as much as I could have.

My friends are so important to me. They make up a second family - people I turn to when my parents, brother or sister can't help.

I know that these friendships will be eternal. The amount of time between seeing each other might inevitably increase with age but one thing I am sure of is that they will always have time for me.