Homer Joyce
Adelaide, Australia, New York, UNITED STATES
Joined September 20th 2006
Number of Posts:
0
Number of Comments:
363
Karma:
2
"I'll show you the life of the mind." Mad Man Muntz to Barton Fink ...
- About Me
About the Real Me: I was born in a small, isolated country town in South Australia. I can't write that I grew up there because I still haven't grown up. I harbour an aversion to the whole notion of growing up and the philosophy (and lack of theology) behind it. As much as I abhor childishness, I love the concept of being child-like. It is suggestive of innocence and seeing everything and anything as though it was for the first time. The three biggest influences on my life have been: (1) spending my formative years in a dysfunctional family environment (2) Literature (most especially words, or each individual word and its meaning) (3) Catholicism (which has had, at various times, a good, bad and indifferent influence on both my life and my writing). The question: Why do I exist? has dominated and preoccupied my thoughts for the majority of my life, and still does. The question: What should I do in life? is secondary only to the above consideration, and perhaps exists on a parallel plane as a co-equal question. I like theory (or study) but not for its own sake. It exists in order to be put into practice. And so, over the course of my life, I tried numerous occupations (from bartender to police officer to monk to taxi driver to postie). And then ... discovered writing ... which is the only occupation that gives any meaning to my nomadic wanderings ... and allows me to continue to be experimental ... About Homer Joyce (my psuedonym) Homer Joyce’s life reads like something out of The Odyssey or Ulysses. His cathartic peregrinations due to his Diaspora would bring tears to the eyes of every downtrodden house-husband and misplaced migrant. Although born in a hospital, HJ was destined to spend the majority of his life locked up in the asylum of his own head – a little boy trapped in a man’s body. After a brutal beating from his father at the age of four, the memory of that single incident was seared into both his tender buttocks and delicate conscience. As he writes in his brutally honest journals: Dad did a real job on my head. No wonder my initials are HJ. The constant physical constipation which followed the beating was only cured by a lengthy hose full of soapy enema in the same hospital he was born in. His mental constipation and psycho-somatic behaviour, however, remained and augmented. It was only cured in the lunatic asylum when the resident psychiatrist, Dr Chester, gave him a cerebral enema-cum-lobotomy to release the pressure of dysfunctional conditioning, enabling him to write his quasi-autobiographical and heart-wrenching story, The Odd Asylum. It was only literature and masturbation that kept HJ clinging to any remnant of life or sanity (and himself), and prevent him from committing suicide during all of those bleak and dark epochs, most notably a brutally honest piece of journal-istic prose written by his wife, entitled: For My Husband. On recovery, he subsequently used it as toilet paper.
Recent CommentsComment by Homer Joyce
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Comment by Homer Joyce
on Can Technology Make You A Better Writer?
Sometimes, in the process of writing, the phone will ring or something takes my attention away for a moment, and when I return to the project, I have lost the ability to think creatively, or the ability to put my thoughts into words. This was a huge problem for a while. However, I found an effective workaround.
And use my paraphrasing of it, to explain succintly as to why I no longer work:
It would go something like this:
Work (the business world). Any job at all, is such an interruption to the creative writing process.
My workaround?
Get around working.
Homer ...