The Art of Dislike.

Art isn’t usually my thing, but I do like the art of disliking someone. A lot of people miss the point of disliking someone; they go straight to the irksome misery of it all and miss out on the craft, artistry and finesse, the shear pleasure of it. If you find someone you dislike cherish them as you would a gift that you might fashion a pearl around. You’re not going to change them by confrontation, by the strength of your argument or the bruise on their forehead where you nutted them. Just settle back and enjoy thumbing paint onto the canvas of your dislike, just as I have this evening been reminded of one of my major works. Tom Paulin has just been on Front Row. Tommy the Irish Bastard, as I like to call him, manages to combine an Irish accent with a mid-west slack jawed Cleatus. Where Cleatus might ponder each word in order for his brain to have enough time to arrive at the next one, Tommy P appears to be finely balancing each word in the context of some great profundity. Their processes are similar as are the results. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me feel to hear his first book remains unpublished, his attempt at play writing un-produced and his latest re-write of a Greek tragedy is being currently re-written by the director in rehearsals. I can hear the cringes of ‘cut that line’, and ‘I can’t say this twaddle’ as clearly as if I were in the front row. And him reading his own poetry! It’s like being water boarded. I swear listening to two minuets would age me two years. Every G o d damn wo r d s u c k ing the l i f e out of m e. Tommy, nothing is so profound as to benefit from long nausea-inducing pauses. Do you have laconicitus!? Or do you drawl like a drunken Texas retard for effect? I hope you’re beginning to see the artistry involved in dislike. Tommy don’t mind and I’m really enjoying it. He is NOT a good judge of anything artistic, his pauses are NOT good timing and his opinions are NOT worth the irritation of listening to. Nothing personal Tom.