Prayers and Feminine Wiles
I confess, I might have got a bit carried away being a serious-musician in the last few blogs – with my forthcoming album of serious-musician music. I want to go back to the old-style rambly ones for a minute – is that alright? I confess to almighty god.
[And to you, my brothers and sisters]
How are things? How’s the summer going? Any craic? I hope you’re well.
That opening confessional reminds me of something: I went through a phase of saying an enormous number of prayers before bed as a child. Did anyone else? I can remember one night in particular when I was.. it must’ve been 7 or 8 – around Communion age – counting all the way up to 150 Hail Marys. I was praying for my parents not to die. Because I thought that the more prayers I said, the more God would listen. I was really proud of myself for being able to stay awake.
And you know something, they didn’t die either.. so if that’s not rock-solid scientific gospel evidence.. :-)
There was a lovely comfort in it though, I have to say.. repeating the same prayer over and over. I was a mega-worrier as a child. Like lots of children. The existential trauma of it all. I’m still a bit of a worrier actually, especially when I’m hungover.
Last Sunday for example, I pushed the boat out the night before – took a shine to the whiskey, ginger and lime promotion that was on – and by the end of the Sunday evening, I had my head buried in my hands and was doubled over in utter hopelessness. (My sister will confirm it). And it struck me.. it’s only with the grace of God, and hangover-busting homeostasis, that I don’t wake up like that every day of my life.
The brain is such a wonderfully precious thing. As you know. It mystifies me to think of it encased in our dark skulls, never seeing the light of day, and yet constructing every colour, sound, taste, smell and touch of your reality. And it amazes me also to think of how phenomenally different people’s realities are from each other’s. And how we get on with each other at all?
It makes me think about the level of care and respect it deserves too. “Alcohol, fun though it be, is nevertheless a depressant, Ailie”. That’s what I’ll be saying to myself next time Jameson number 5 bats its eyelashes.
On a side note, ‘bat’ is a very funny verb to use in that context, isn’t it? You don’t ever really bat anything else on your body, do you..
“He bat his hand at me as we parted ways”
“Bat your head if you agree”
Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t really like the phrase to begin with, because it sort of paints women as provocateurs, I think. Batting their eyelashes. That’s how it feels anyway. And, to paraphrase a wonderful woman: using the power of your sexiness to get what you want, isn’t actually a ‘powerful’ act in and of itself, but more a means of tapping into someone else’s power.
That rings very true, I think? ..the great myth of feminine wiles and charms. Those evil muse-creatures.. sirens.. sent to try, and torment.. It was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the writer, who first drew my attention to that, in her wonderful TED talk on feminism. I recommend it for a lovely bit of reassurance and galvanisation of your morals, actually, if that’s the kind of thing you enjoy with your morning coffee.
And another thing I recommend if you’re on an education-buzz, is Crash Course on YouTube: bite-size 10-minute videos on all sorts of brilliant subjects, to refresh your intelligence and make you feel like a proper clever clogs. I love watching them.
Finally for now, I’m doing a double A-side release gig upstairs in Whelan’s on Thursday 17th August if you’re around? 100 tickets went on sale yesterday and you can get one here: Ailie. Live in Whelan’s :-)
That’s it, I think. I hope you’re keeping well yourself? And staying away from people who suck the living life out of you? Let’s hope so, because life is short, and there are many prayers to be said.
I hope you have a lovely rest-of-July. Gimme a shout if there’s anything I can do for you!
Blessed is the fruit of ThyWombJesus,
PS Thanks for reading!