Lager Time
Lager Time
The Unlicensed Diver
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The Unlicensed Diver

by Paul Cree, a few words and a little poem at the end, as per...

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I’m a stickler for nuance, especially in the times we’re in now. Sometimes, it can be a pain in the arse - someone can state something and I find it hard to let it go without piping up, sometimes I wish I wouldn’t, sometimes I do shut-up then wish I did pipe-up, I can’t win and it probably makes me a pain-in-the-arse to be around. It’s worth mentioning, though, all of the above, I only tend to do offline, online that’s a fight I’m too afraid of, which was part of the reason I started this blog.

Some trite examples of popular opinions, in the past few years, that were often on my radar, where I  at least try to present a more nuanced point, would be The amazing feat of Leicester winning the Premier League and The amazing success of Stormzy as an independent artist to Jeremy Corbyn is a Marxist and Nigel Farage is a fascist. All these four things are nowhere near as clear or as simple as they’re made out be, some more serious than others, of course but I’m not settling for any of those four statements, as absolute truths, which they’re often presented as.

Brexit was a big one for me, as I’m sure it was for many. A binary question on a highly complex issue - I can see pros and cons on both sides. The toxicity of the mainstream campaigns and debates seemed to detract from what I thought was the original question.  It just became another battlefield in the so called culture-war and it all got a West-Side-Story.

Maybe that’s what the problem is, we’re too quick to get partisan and jump in the what we think are the best equipped camps, no one wants to be in no-mans land; expect perhaps for nobs like me who want to take time to figure things out, when there probably is no time. Trouble is, for someone like me, I can only act on what I know and whilst I do read a lot, especially about politics and social issues, I don’t always understand it and when it comes to arguing it, I often struggle to get my points across; yet that insatiable desire for a bit more nuance never goes and I can get obsessive seeking out alternative views.

At times It feels like a dangerous obsession, or at the very least a nagging one that often riles me up and I don’t quite know what I get out of it. Perhaps I’m just an aspiring smart-arse, who’s not yet earned the ‘smart’ part of that phrase.

At some dull-yet-turbulent moment in twenty-twenty, I wrote this little poem, tyring to make sense of what I’m doing. Suffice to say, on the long road to Damascus, I probably got side-tracked at a service station stressing about what flavour of crips I wanted with my over-priced motorway meal deal, when I should’ve opted for the Pan-Pipe Moods CD compilation from the bargain-bin.

The Unlicensed Diver, by Paul Cree

At some point I got lost deep diving for truth

whatever that is

been learning to breathe ever since

can barely swim, let-alone dive

no tanned-man in Thailand

just read what I could

asked a few questions from the few people I

knew and the few books I had

made maps on the internet marked with x’s

got my Nike’s dirty down rabbit holes

realised some rabbits weren’t as wise I thought

just a lot of rabbit talk

I remember getting that irritating twitch back

at school, from playground spats to classroom analysis

often thinking there’s more to this than what’s being presented

just never quite knew what it was

some other texture and taste I weren’t getting from that

bland food I was instructed to swallow

got older and felt the same about the news and everyday

views I’d hear out and about

felt stupid when I aired mine

unformed and messy, like a piece of homework

produced on the bus, I’d produce my two p and

instantly feel out my depth, like I took a bath, shut my

eyes and woke up fighting a storm in the North Atlantic

convincing myself I was better off with the inflatables and the

flumes, at least they were a laugh, that and I

wouldn’t get cast out the clan for

breaking ranks

give it a day or two and the feeling resumed

just didn’t know what to do

so I took to diving, with no licence

just a bunch of erratic thoughts and a thirst for something more

I’ve unearthed a few things that muddied the water

each time I come up for air, I find the land more divided

spliced-up and taking sides

status seekers and self-publicists

political mules nudged into reactions

nudged into action

all armed with their half-truths,

cherry-picked data grenades, firing at will

desperate to catch a dart from the opposing side so they

can spin it out the stratosphere

sealing off all access routes to alternative views

dogmatic with diminishing returns

seen the distance between them turn from stream to river

with the banks threatening to burst

I’m back at school again, choking on the tripe I’m being

co-erced to swallow, thinking there’s a lot more to it, a

lot more, I’ve tasted it and I’m

barley getting started but I’m no

Olllie Twist, please sir… just

forget it

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Lager Time
Lager Time
A series of poems, stories, thoughts and music from writer and performer Paul Cree
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