Hi Mark,
Thank you for reading it. Most of the chapters are between half a page and
three pages in length each, with images interspersed. The full book is quite a
journey, and it's only now I realise how nuts it all was. Anyway, I'm looking
forward to the day it's published and sharing it out into the world. I'll
probably have a couple of exhibitions of the images in the book along with
presentations. It's going to be interesting.
Wishing you well.
Marc
On Friday, 10 January 2025 at 09:05, Mark Hancock via NetBehaviour
<netbehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org> wrote:
> Ooof, that final line?! Literally and metaphorically taking the wind out of
> Barry's sails. Like a kick in the belly, a piss on the grave.
>
> What I like about this excerpt, (and look forward to in the book), is how it
> paints a complex portrait of working class men. As someone whose father could
> wax about the beauty of Chopin one day, and split your nose with a flick of a
> diamond-ringed fist the next, our relationship with all the memories can get
> loaded and complex at times (for myself at least, others may have already
> decided where they compartmentalised their parents).
>
> As always, Marc, an important bit of writing, beautifully written that
> deserves to be out in the world.
>
> Mark
>
> On Tue, 31 Dec 2024 at 12:23, marc.garrett via NetBehaviour
> <netbehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org> wrote:
>
>> Barry’s Galleon Ship Disaster
>>
>> Barry, my father, was a man of varied interests and very much into his
>> hobbies. Some of them were illegal. For instance, a few times, he was caught
>> exposing himself in the streets to women he fancied. He sold rugs and was
>> also a pyromaniac. He would often vanish for days and weeks, either because
>> he was in prison or away at a secretive and menacing awayday with his black
>> magic group. There are stories my mum told me about him, where they’d kidnap
>> individuals in a black transit van. But I’m not sure if that’s true. There
>> is so much about him that is so outlandishly unbelievable. But, the bits of
>> evidence I know are the events that have materially changed my life. He was
>> a local legend, and his reputation overshadowed the rest of the family.
>>
>> Whenever we walked around town, it was a strange experience for me, my
>> younger brother, and my mum. Some people who knew about us and Barry’s
>> unprincipled activities would keep their distance as if we were about to
>> infect them with a dark, evil curse. Sometimes, it was isolating, like we
>> were pariahs, but at other times, there was an essence of empowerment due to
>> the feeling that people were afraid of us. The problem with being marked as
>> different, scary or dangerous is that it attracts the types of individuals
>> who find the notion of it exciting for them, and when you're a young child,
>> that’s the last thing you need.
>>
>> It was emotionally reassuring when Barry engaged his talents with less
>> insidious ventures. A hobby of his that also involved me now and then was
>> his plane-spotting exploits. He would take me to the airport to watch planes
>> landing and flying off. He watched it all through his binoculars while
>> noting the observed aircraft in his notepad. I was bored, and he was always
>> very excited. His fascination with planes extended to model making. He was
>> incredibly proud that he made his model planes from scratch, not assembly
>> kits. He would buy balsa wood and cut it with a craft knife to make model
>> aircraft. He made many different types. Some would be painfully intricate
>> biplanes replicating the Wright brothers’ first successful aeroplane
>> launched in 1903 to WW11 aircraft, which seemed less detailed but still
>> displayed high quality and artful technique. These were the moments I
>> remember as notable when he was calm and lost in his craft. He was good at
>> it, and you could feel how enchanted he was by the whole experience.
>>
>> Another recreation Barry enjoyed was painting. Just like he was obsessed
>> with aircraft in the singular sense, he spent much of his creative time on
>> oil painting. His primary focus was Galleon ships, huge, multi-decked
>> sailing ships and armed cargo carriers from the 16th to 18th centuries.
>> Again, he was mesmerised by his chosen subject and spent many hours painting
>> different galleon scenes in sea-based settings, with large waves crashing at
>> the side of the vessels. It was all very dramatic. One day, I entered the
>> room as he painted his latest masterpiece with a slow, intense dedication to
>> detail. I suddenly noticed something with all the paintings. I nervously
>> twitched, knowing how proud he was of them.
>>
>> I wasn’t sure whether to tell him what I had spotted. But I had to. I
>> couldn’t help myself. I told him nervously that the ships had no wind in
>> their sails; they were straight, not as breezy as they should be in
>> turbulent winds. He stopped painting, slowly gazed at all his works, and
>> dropped his arm holding the paintbrush. Barry released a big sigh, and then
>> the room fell silent. He turned round and looked at me with a deep hatred,
>> and it felt like his eyes were burrowing into my skull. Then, he flipped and
>> smashed up all his canvases amongst other objects in the room. Thankfully,
>> he didn’t hit me. He may have been talented at many things, but painting
>> wasn’t one of them.
>> A section from the book Feral Class by Marc Garrett. To be published by
>> Minor Compositions in 2025.
>>
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