THE WRITER’S LIFE
The title refers to an episode of The Big Bang Theory, where Sheldon Cooper found himself sharing an office with Raj Koothrappali, and hid a snake (a corn snake, as it happens) in Raj’s desk drawer. I myself have been fascinated by serpents since I was a teenager, and lately I’ve been revisiting that world, where I dreamed of all I have now.
When my family got our first VCR, WarGames and Electric Dreams became two of my favourite films, and remain so today: I can quote both from start to finish with the sound turned down, so it’s useful for guests that they both have good soundtracks.
But anyway, those two films were the worlds I wanted to occupy in a future life. And now, I sit at a desk, connected to the world, and surrounded by music and film. Sometimes as I sit here in the present, I see myself as a retrospective visitor from the future.
I arrived here through 25 years in print. From Linotype, hand-engraving, and letterpress; through corporate finance, security and government printing; via the transition of an art into technology; and finally to Kinko’s and my own print management companies…
I’ve witnessed the evolution of the printed word, and still argue that the Gutenberg Press was one of mankind’s greatest inventions. I have my children’s names on my arms in Helvetica, and print is in my blood.
I’m a beneficiary of the democratisation of the written word through digital publishing, and continue to wonder at the power of design and advertising, even admiring its ability to subvert in a world of fake news, where trust in journalism is rare. I have things to write about. Loneliness is in the head, and my head is not a lonely place. Stephen Hawking became a cyborg, and I’m just a virtual life on screen, in which I can do anything I like.
During my 47 years, I’ve learned a lot about many things: about myself and the world around me. I can boss Pointless most days, but social anxiety will always prevent me doing so anywhere other than in front of my own TV.
Travelling back in time to pick up my teenage self, and placing us in a modern context we might once have imagined, we may find ourselves presenting something like Sheldon Cooper’s Fun With Flags.
We have our own title, using one of the many terms applied to snakes by those who don’t understand them: Fun With Nope Ropes (not a euphemism for a failed take on life). In this first broadcast, a video shared on my FriendFace news feed. The question which prompted this whole post was a comment someone made: “Why didn’t the camera man help out?”:
FUN WITH NOPE ROPES
Rattlers are some of the most democratic of the nope ropes (they’re not rude tubes, like black mambas, for example). They only use the rattle as a warning, to say stay away: they don’t want to be trodden on, or triggered by accident. They rarely bite anything they can’t swallow as food, as it’s a waste of venom and effort (snakes are cold-blooded, so they need to conserve and regulate energy, and they’re lazy), unless they’re threatened. It could almost be argued that they have the preservation of other species in mind, as they consider their needs of their environment.
Rattlesnakes are born with a small hook on their tail, and over time, as the snake grows, it moults its skin. With each slough, a small ring of skin will remain on the non-dangerous end, eventually drying out and collecting on top of the last ring to make the familiar rattle. Frankly, I’d have loved one as I was growing up.
In any case, the guy still alive in the video is absolutely right to stay still, and the cameraman too. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t see what we just did. To be honest, I envy them.
I’ve encountered many snakes in my offline life, but few venomous ones. All are equally beautiful and graceful, but the majority shy or nervous. Many non-venomous snakes are placid, and even some of the most potent pose no threat to humans.
In the next episode of Fun With Nope Ropes, we’ll look at the black mamba, that most infamous of snakes, and deservedly so. The black mamba is the rudest of tubes.
This blog entry was part-sponsored by Captain Mamba, the lead ophidian in my sci-fi novel, Cyrus Song: “Danger Noodle”, “Nope Rope”, “Rude Tube”, “Shite Pipe”, “Feck Flute.” He goes by many names.