The Word

NOTE: This work, acting as a brief author introduction, is also the feature of this web catalogue's home page. This post is therefore a duplicate.

(WCT: 4800)

Could have, should have, would have; as well, a lifetime dispossessed of opportunities, of potential gone awry; also, what might have been if circumstances were just that little bit more favourable, or perhaps, for that matter, vastly different? Apposite themeiologies all, especially if one is chasing down adequate answers to such poignant notions of lost possibility. Nonetheless, is it worth rendering down said bereavement—along with any numerous varietals of anguish—to in effect refine one’s reasonings, so much that a single overarching word be a good enough antithesis to such heartache and despair? If so, what might that word be?

What expression could possibly be a credible enough exemplar of deliverance to serve as antidote to haemorrhaging feelings of regret, to chances gone begging? Moreover, how might one acquire an adequate allotment of this tonic—one borne off of a single word—just enough that it act as a restorative elixir, thus ameliorating the nightmarish dread of aforementioned angst?

Such a term would surely symbolise a ‘tricky’ ingredient, something not quite as straightforward as it might seem. It thereby paradoxically be something both common place, found in abundance, yet at the same time mysterious, elusive and difficult to quantify, but an adjunct all the same which when appropriately allocated brings out the best in mankind, as well represents a welcome finishing touch—the ‘proverbial’ icing on the cake.

While under the express influence of culinarily inspired figuratively flavoured language; specifically, the sort of banter indicative of sweet treats—to such an end, let the examples fly. By this topical standard, perhaps such a word be commensurable to common pantry items, ones considered essential and shelf stable, therefore always on hand. For the sake of allegorical hypotheses, let flour and sugar come to the fore. Though these be decidedly unsexy, run-of-the-mill staples, they are nevertheless the stuff of caloric efficiency, of bang for the emblematic buck, thereby yielding maximum return for minimal outlay in every sense of the term. When mixed together, they become a highly economical, energy rich binder and filler with which to accentuate other more charismatic ingredients—cacao a deserving contender, on top of which chocolate sponge torte becomes a particularly noteworthy final format for both presentation and consumption. In this way, simple ingredients are skilfully commingled with many a third party delicacy, so much that there be an endless array of colours, textures and flavours at the experienced Patissier’s disposal.

Such is the conduit by which plain raw ingredients are scientifically altered for texture, physically rearranged into shapes, embellished for visual effect and imbued with flavour and scent, thereby transformed to the point they capably enter the human organism to the delight of the senses. So far as the all-important word of the moment is concerned, the preceding example need only imply it be capable of augmenting most any facet of life. Though—to immediately revert to the expansive food analogy underway—this business of making edibles attractive poses a significant risk to modern man, particularly among those whose relentless hankering for satiety remains unchecked. On this basis, the word in question is open to overexploitation, much the way decadent desserts, if consumed at will, become enablers of failing health. But, before mankind’s eating habits are brought under the microscope, some anatomical context may prove useful, as well that the reader concede to forthcoming precepts being ‘more or less’ fundamental to most every idiosyncratic form of human behaviour, therefore not exclusively the domain of food consumption and caloric intake alone. This, of course, is to ensure it also be in some way applicable to the revelatory word at hand, though in fact the concept being unpacked occupies a far more comprehensive and profound space within the human psyche.

So here it goes. May the reader do with the forthcoming information as they will.

As with all living creatures, Homo sapiens are evolutionarily gifted with a potent signalling pathway within their nervous system, one operating care of both chemistry and electricity, with their fastidious rule-based nature. Moreover, this network of interwound fibres is especially well umbilicalled, and reinforced with added girth from the head’s control centres, ergo the eyes, nose and ears which are nearest the brain, down to the mouth—complete with tongue and taste buds—then through to the stomach and intestines. It also branches out, arguably with less correlation to the body’s torso, to the tips of the fingers and down to the ends of one’s toes. This intricate array of nerves therefore traverses the entire length and breadth of the body.

At the heart of this complex system is a particularly busy thoroughfare; a remarkably efficient information channel, therefore a bustling stretch of superhighway up and down which the body’s carrier signals operate with extraordinary frequency. This busy administrative centre serves a multitude of critical roles, one of which has to do with identifying and managing feelings of hunger and satiety in the gut. This ongoing mission is performed both vigilantly and with impressive proficiency, with information regularly relayed ‘upstairs’ for processing. In so doing, the required motivation is generated in the mind for living creatures to ingest calories irrespective of any barriers to food acquisition, thus ensuring they figure out ways to get their hands, paws or claws onto life sustaining nutrients, in turn remaining alive to breed and replenish their respective species. This simplified though robust synopsis is plenty good enough to serve this essay’s objectives. However, should the reader wish to learn oodles more about the body’s truly amazing central nervous system, let them do their own ‘googling’.

Having just now been moderately educated, consider the following story. Man is a predator at heart. It was programmed into the primeval hunter-gatherer to begrudgingly venture out into the wilderness, be it rain, hail or shine, in order to run down beasts of prey—all out of sheer necessity to satisfy hunger. In so doing primitive man risked life and limb, perhaps spending days on end in challenging, uncomfortable, even hostile conditions, all the while stalking game. They stopped at nothing to achieve their goal. Dogged determination then duly paid off as a sacrificial animal or two were slain, before the spoils of hard earned toil dragged back to camp and cave to an ecstatic reception. There, a hungry, eager clan were ready and waiting to devour every last bit of flesh down to carcass and bone. In this way, crucial hunger pangs were relieved to the express benefit of growing numbers among a given population.

This hindsight oriented tale illustrates the degree to which an irrepressible urge to feel well through ingesting food overwhelms a person, as well the extent to which compulsions are the evolutionary norm—the urge to procreate being another pertinent example, however let’s not get started on that old chestnut. Suffice to say that without these inbuilt urges, who’s to deny archaic humans may have simply procrastinated anytime conditions got tough, thereby willingly stopped having sex and starved themselves to death—entire tribes wiped off the face of the earth through nothing more than sheer laziness.

With the anatomy and history lessons over, fast forward ‘just a few’ millennia to the present day. In stark contrast, no such difficult hurdles to food supply exist. Modern city geography being what it is—basically, a commercial kitchen of some description at every stone’s throw—this innate impulse to eat is now too readily triggered, thereby acted upon at random for reasons other than baseline hunger or necessity. This causes it to, in a manner of speaking, malfunction—to run in perpetual overdrive. Given the unfair control advantage the mind’s pleasure centres have over the rest of one’s body, there can only be one dietary consequence when such an exceptionally well developed, meticulously refined and highly evolved system of incentive, now displaced in modernity, continues to operate with perfect efficacy. That’s right, it’s obvious—overeating is the inevitable result.

The state of mental affairs which drives excessive food intake is, historically speaking, a fairly new phenomenon. It stems from an unreasonable modern day expectation to ‘feel good’ all the time. Therefore, contemporary humans opportunistically incorporate the consumption of food and drink—usually the most calorically dense varietals—into nearly every social situation. The day and month of someone’s birth being a culturally universal example of such occasion; a yearly ceremony during which a specific version of said dessert, namely, the birthday cake, be the centrepiece of the celebration.

Care must therefore be taken to ensure safe levels of ingestion, not too much of this spectacularly calorific medium—one lacking fibre thereby slow to digest—especially if obesity with its related health concerns is to be avoided. One modest slice sounds like a reasonable enough allocation, much the way red wine by the glass, if consumed semi-thoughtfully, might well be considered a benefit to health, but only when preceded by a lighthearted risk reward analysis—or more likely, no such deliberation at all. Thus alcohol is widely enjoyed ‘in moderation’ for little more than its short lived blissful heady buzz, as well an accompanying bout of supposed confidence, which in fact be no more than a lowering of one’s well advised guard. The alternative be its deadly mandate to take out critical body organs, namely the liver.

Uh-oh. A ‘word’ of warning is in order. No, not due to the all important mystery word of the moment—well, perhaps indirectly yes—but in fact an escalation in tone and posture is underway. A burst of exploratory rhetorical bush bashing is therefore coming over the manuscript. It be as a looming black cloud soon to release a torrent of rain; or more pertinently, a prolonged wet weather system shortly to storm on one’s parade, causing wide spread flooding and leaving a trail of destruction in its path. This also presents an ample case for reconstruction, therefore as worrying as a deluge of this magnitude may sounds, all is certainly not lost and there is much to be gained. Why? Because such a disruptive inconvenience—one guaranteed to momentarily ambush the prose—in fact brings with it fecund perspective. This, as in passing over a vast barren wilderness, Mother Nature releases her tears that they pool into bone dry lulls in the land—dams, which once again begin to hold water. These reservoirs then overfill, dividing as they go, their contents running off into a vast series of waterways which sprawl out arterially throughout the country. Thus, seldom saturated rivers of old once again run as rapids, full to the brim.

In this way the most ancient of rivers are replenished with once-in-a-lifetime floodwaters causing native flora and fauna to rapidly regenerate in real time. Fertile fields and lush corridors of vegetation overtake the surrounding environment. Both man and beast alike are jubilant. Entire interconnected ecosystems come back from the brink, giving rise to new life in abundance. Birdlife and flying creatures of many a persuasion flock together from afar to feast, lay their eggs and spawn their young. They revel and delight in food aplenty, the result of Crustacea roe in the sand which lay dormant for decades awaiting moisture. But now, commingled with fresh water, they along with numerous other miscellaneous organisms hatch in the many millions, even billions, thus bolstering fish stocks and aquatic life to the point of profusion. Wildflowers of every variety and colour, whose seed once lay brittle atop the red desert dirt, now line the banks of inland rivers; dominating the landscape, providing shelter and spawning grounds for animal of many kind.

Such a comeback is emblematic of the cycle of life which albeit tough, gruff and not for the faint hearted, eventually rewards the dedicated, steadfast seeker of truth, providing for them epiphany in abundance, before again receding that they be primed once more, thus receiving over and again the spoils of their seasonal fruits. In this way people who persevere through difficulty emerge better, stronger and more resilient with each iteration. That being said, what does such heartfelt appreciation of Australia’s spectacular outback river systems and floodways have to do with this intro-thesis? Mainly that it is ‘related to’ deeply. The restorative nature of this deluge story is therefore intimately tied to its author’s own experience; specifically, a series of happenings leading to liberated faculties. The bout of renewal delineated in the story therefore symbolises an outpouring of creativity which spawned then rapidly compounded as his emerging sensitivities grew in stature. To be sure, it was a particularly ratiocinative form of artistry which occupied his soul, therefore along for the ride came a shedding of crippling habits, among them not only a lifetime of drug and alcohol abuse (aha, the plot thickens, or perhaps reconvenes), but also a substantive range of debilitating disorders tethered to his addictive personality, all of which slowly but surely ameliorated over time, ultimately to the point of remission.

The story of fresh replenishing wet season rains and burgeoning landscapes are therefore a symbol of goings-on within, the sorts of growth criterion by which the storyteller manages to bloom over and again, far beyond what he ever thought possible. It therefore stands to reason that the owner of such renaissance have a thing or two to say regarding a certain vice; one which kept his psyche captive for years; one he used in conjunction with various others to drown out the pain and sorrow within his beaten up state of consciousness, to suppress his anguish and in effect distort his sense of reality. This is of course a reference to the most culturally destigmatised variant of mind altering drug—ethanol—in all its ‘made to look beautiful, sexy, appealing and chic’ forms.

Condolences are thereby deservingly issued to some of the readership, particularly those who up to now have enjoyed this expose as much they might several ice cold beers on a hot summer’s day, or a few bottles of wine over dinner every other evening. These are those souls for whom this manuscript’s relevance is soon to be brought into question, determining whether or not they be bothered reading on. Accordingly, any mildly volatile, reactionary cohort among the readership is implored to choose option B from the forthcoming ultimata, that it act as a panaceum of sorts. This, as in keeping with tradition, an instance or two of stray, opinionated ‘scuttlebutt’ must weasel its way into every thesis—an off the beaten track rampage of sorts. Such is the author’s golden rule of writing.

With this in mind, consider the pending statement regarding alcohol use—which decidedly be optional reading—as either; A: a writer’s endearing homage to long held customs of venturing off script; B: an utter waste of time, therefore to be ignored altogether; or C: perhaps, just maybe, a credible theory, implying there be more to the consumption of ‘above average’ amounts of liquid ethyl alcohol than meets the eye, thereby something to be gleaned from the soon to be released rant. (Sarcastically) yes, yes; define ‘above average’? A fair question, with no apparent answer. Quantitatively justifiable limits of consumption therefore remain a scale which each and every enjoyer of ‘truth serum’ determines for themselves, as is whether to take the nearing short rant with a grain of salt.

Whether a resignative attitude inadvertently trigger an avalanche of animus remains to be seen; this, as upon copping the approaching tirade, some among the readership are bound to wonder whether or not this thesis’s encapsulated whole be ‘the very same tirade’, just on a larger scale—to be taken just as seriously, meaning not at all. Then, while at it, why not disqualify the writer’s entire catalogue of works? After all, ‘the ideas mustn’t be that good, nor very creative, if the bloke coming up with this tripe can’t appreciate a good hearty drink’. An especially well considered assault on the author’s reputation may involve ‘slurs’ (haha, double meaning in jest, assured) and character assassination. This might require going after the individual himself by way of social standing, in which case the killer barb arrives by questioning ‘how some snobby, straight-laced prick, one too high and mighty to enjoy a drink alongside the rest of society, could possibly claim to know something about anything?—here, here—well said—bravo.’

If all goes well, humorously intended and deliberately exaggerated acts of connivance will remain no more than a temporary foray into sarcastically inclined comic relief. In any case, the anecdotalist is obliged to acknowledge his views on the matter be ‘more than likely’ unpopular, which perhaps be an understatement of some magnitude. Also, a very real risk of contending with others’ biases presents itself—a mal-interpreting of the subject’s disappreciation of superfluous elbow bending. All of this, before continuing on irrespective of any fallout among the readership, therefore—brace for impact. Ready, set, go!

Start of rhetorical rampage.

So far as the mystery word is concerned, perhaps the sorts of alcoholic beverages consumed in excess to stimulate, emphasise and accentuate social interaction ought be withheld from metaphorical comparison, lest any useful analysis of their side effects bring to light the relative ease with which they indiscriminately hijack the mind’s thought receptors, thus interfere with the apparatus of reasoning and decision making, as well suppress artistic flair and true creative expression—to suggest just some potent downside to their brazen ingestion.

End of rampage.

Having delivered the statement, an urge to dogmatically share near irrelevant material has now subsided, including any further release of content tethered thematically to this document’s main narrative by no more than a single thread at best. Thus the obligatory ‘one glitch which every thesis must have’ becomes neither a thing of the past, nor etched in stone, but in fact a consortium of both. This goal seems to have been accomplished with more efficacy, curtness, and lack of tact than the author himself necessarily deem appropriate, or even necessary—no doubt dividing the audience.

Any parishioners still engaged, especially those in agreeance, are welcomed into the fold with open arms, as are theoretically all. Although, at the same time, those disgruntled souls compelled to bid this manuscript farewell, as well rush off to enjoy a certain beverage in protest, may rest assured theirs be just as appropriate a response. Either way, the show must go on. As for any select group from the latter cohort determined to resist briskly exiting stage left—who intend to soldier on despite growing reservations—to them applause and great kudos are in order, their brave curiosity soon to be rewarded by the unveiling of a very special word indeed. But first, a quick look at the map, as well a pivot back to the marked trail. The author’s bearings ‘and marbles’ well and truly reinstated can only mean one thing—more talk of sugary food.

So far, the word of the moment has been pitched as available in bulk, as a somewhat ordinary yet widely prevalent ingredient. Then again, perhaps it also be a more pronounced component of a longstanding recipe, something unique and striking. To such an end it may just as appropriately symbolise a sort of quintessential, albeit theoretically less utilitarian ingredient, therefore something not really suited up to sustain basic life. In this way it be considered an exotic additive, merely an identifier without which what is baked cannot be at its very best. The way a slice of traditional apple pie, even if chock full of iconic green granny smith apples—with their above average acidity and distinctly tart flavour—cannot be considered a proper serving without a modest dose of authentic Ceylon cinnamon part of its molten filling—not to mention a mere dusting of nutmeg hitchhiking atop its crust, as well a generous side dollop of fresh cold sour cream alongside slightly warmed, ready to eat pastry.

The preceding example beckons the possibility of incorporating multiples of such hero ingredients into a single substance, that their coalescence produce a far superior flavour and aroma to what any one of them be capable of in isolation. The way certain ground spices, when smashed together, form the indispensable underpinning of an entire world region’s cuisine. Garam masala, a pertinent example throughout India, its surrounds, and beyond—indeed, now readily available in nearly every country on earth. Although this manuscript temporarily digress yet again, though not as far afield, from its once exclusively ‘sweet toothed’ precedent—the ship’s course soon to be corrected, its true bearing restored.

The word in question therefore be required to coexist in harmony with others, particularly to the point of augmenting their cumulative value, albeit by way of proportional cooperation. In this way it be as spiced rum is to fruit and nut pudding, whose strategic inclusion in just the right dose brings to life the full bodied, aromatic and zesty nature of fermenting produce. Though, to be sure, such promising results cannot materialise without just the right accompanying ratios of salt, vinegar and brown sugar. In this way, vital ingredients work in concert with one another, part and parcel of the ageing process, fusing to perfection. Get the quotient wrong, even for one, and risk overpowering the others, thus spoiling the flavoursome course.

Anyone agonising over which of these food metaphors best characterises such an all-encompassing word can rest assured they all apply in some way, shape or form—multidimensionality the key to their inter-relevance. Nevertheless, what might be primarily gleaned from these examples? Mainly that they provide insights into what it means to be a fully functioning human being, in that life can often appear complete, brimming with all manner of seemingly wonderful ingredients, yet take one bite, only to discover it doesn’t quite taste right—something is off, either deficient or too prevalent within its flavour profile. A galvanising ingredient is therefore being either under-represented or over-utilised; or worse yet, simply ignored altogether, therefore allowed to aimlessly carry on at abandon in ways which disadvantage the human soul, as well harm the psyche, even to the point of being deadly.

What then is this overarching ingredient, one operating as an intermediary for countless others? Put another way, what could possibly be so important that an artist, one whose writings populate this online catalogue exclusively, has devoted his life—or rather, what’s left of it—to expounding on a single overarching themeiology—‘seemingly randomly’ (nudge, wink) ad nauseam? Moreover, what topic, epitomised by none other than one ‘measly’ word, could possibly have within its purview such profound substance that it serve as a springboard for prolific creative output? This word is, after all, the underlying inspiration behind tens of thousands of lines of text, a progeny of ideas, each paragraph harbouring its own unique perspective, yet any one which if distilled—thereby boiled down to its core essence—can be traced back to its ancestral genesis; namely, a formative experience of some kind, a single point of origin comprising a root theorem?

This had better be a darn good word. In fact, given all this hype, it ought be nothing shy of a guaranteed starting proposition for any discourse worth its salt under the sun, one capable of launching off into an endless array of possibilities. Hopefully learning of it doesn’t depress the reader, especially as expectations are now running high. At the very least, the suspense is surely building. However, before its imminent revelation, perhaps a quick ‘word’ (haha, pun intended—and for a second time, no less) about Glenny Gardener might be in order. This is clearly a man on a mission, but what is he out to prove? More specifically, what on earth is his freaking problem?

At this point in what is a short thesis, an emergency intervention seems prudent. A counter response, in no small measure, to the preceding enquiry. Therefore, any harebrained plan to ‘dig for dirty artefacts’ must belay on account of one heck of a severe can of worms alert. Accordingly, this mission summary shan’t elaborate on the artist’s many personal foibles for fear of residing over a painstakingly laborious and heavily protracted exercise. This in lieu of what set out to be a concise, albeit somewhat cheeky, off the cuff and informal bout of comic relief, yet a miniature introduction all the same. Indeed, even if such latitude were on offer, as well the challenge accepted, the fruits of such a futile fishing expedition may well prove disappointing to say the least. This, as restricting the artist’s ‘problems’ to even the far extremities of a generous five figure word count remains an impossible undertaking. Such an activity would instead varnish an underhanded partial disclosure, one representing only the pin tip of one mother of a leviathan iceberg, in turn leaving countless bits of juicy detail out of sight, well below the waterline.

Therefore, in the interests of sticking to plan A, thereby ensuring this creatively inspired manifesto remain terse—enough that new readers’ appetites are whet, as well their expectations quickly and efficiently brought up to speed—this will be no such expansive long-form writing effort, instead remaining just as intended, a brief albeit moderately ‘inconsequential’ declaration of agenda and intent.

As for those compadres for whom an expounded familiarisation ceremony goes to credibility; for whom intimacy reigns supreme; therefore, the sorts of individuals for whom details, details and more details denote a crucial element of trust—they needn’t fret. Any such curious candidates, after the artist’s own heart, are hereby cordially invited to visit his formal introduction thesis, which in being longer than this very manuscript by at least a factor of three, as well dwelling on topics far closer to home and immensely more personal in nature, is bound to provide some small measure of relief. What’s more is unlike the writing style herein, the long-form introduction document is a reflective first person account, as opposed to narrated third person critique—a change in format which lends itself to more intimacy, vulnerability and emotivity. But, for the time being, back to the topic at hand. What’s going on with this ‘writer’ fellow?

What on earth is he prattling on about? He just can’t stop ranting about … oh, that’s right, too soon to be talking specifics. After all, the mystery word hasn’t yet been revealed. Anyway, is he really a proper writer? Especially taking into account he has no formal writing qualifications what-so-ever. On top of which, it’s not as though he’s particularly well read, or highly educated. In fact, Glenny left high school prematurely in somewhat of a hurry, mainly due to his early lacklustre interest in academia. How then can this guy act as some kind of definitive voice on the subject at hand, a so called ‘expert’ on matters of … ? Oops, did it again—almost spilled the beans there. Actually, come to think about it, who’s to say Glenny isn’t just some kind of wannabe writer? A washed up, disgruntled loser with nothing better to do than put petty gripes to pen and paper. All he does is moan and groan about what he missed out on; or, how things might have been different. And as for these ‘works’ as he likes to call them; are they perhaps nothing more than the whimsical musings of a try hard storyteller? He’s probably the kind of damaged soul whose own foolish mistakes got the better of him. However, instead of taking responsibility for his choices and actions, he’s blaming others for his many woes—anyone but himself.

Can’t he just get on with life and quit rambling on about … ? Oops, blimey, almost did it again. Strike three. It would seem the all-important word of the moment is egging to be released, so much that there can be no further discussion about the artist without it. After all, any fair-minded critic might be disinclined to judge Glenny too harshly before knowing ‘exactly’ what it is he deems of such critical importance. Goodness, what if he’s onto something? God forbid he is inadvertently being misrepresented, wrongly poked fun at or unfairly framed in a pejorative light, so much that his hard fought battles, as well blood, sweat and tears in fact represent something truly inspirational. What if the word about to be revealed has within it the capacity to move mountains, to augment the very nature of consciousness? Such an outcome may well find naysayers embarrassed, having to apologise for jumping too soon to inadequate conclusions, ones devoid of appropriate meaning and context.

The reader is now obliged to re-peruse this short introduction, this time centring their meditations on a truly life-altering word, as well replacing all ellipses with …

Scroll down for the great reveal.

FREEDOM.

How much of it do we need?

How much of it do we allow?

Such is Glenny’s singular, all-encompassing plight.