can it be that it was all so simple
And that's the last time we will ever speak, probably.
"No problem": the last words I ever say to somebody I have
been reasonably close to before our lives take different
directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at somebody's house,
you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and
kisses and flowers, you see them in their dressing gown...
and then, bang, that's it. Gone forever. And sooner or later
there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose
veins. They're all the same. Only the addresses, and the
colours of the dressing gown, change.
-Rob, HIGH FIDELITY (Nick Hornby)
It's funny when all you want to do is make yourself read a new book, start a new thing, a different day, and you pick up the one you read a year ago... or something. Those weird rotations. It's like an annual mental thing, that comes the way a girl menstruates, but less predictable and often. It's a seasonal thing for me, I think. I mean I find myself listening to the seriously pathetic mix CD I made exactly a year ago. Mind you I also find myself wishing to crawl into bed with my mum in the middle of the night and asking her to fix it. Make it better. Do you ever get that helpless, child-like, 'I need someone to fix it' feeling, because I guess you need that maternal figure to depend on when you get that feeling like everything is gone. I don't know, I haven't gotten it in about a decade. I recently want to fall and scrape my knee at 3am so that I can go and ask her to find me a band-aid or something.
So my family has suddenly (and yet finally, as if I never quite expected it to happen, and required a firm warning sign of some sort) began to take my house apart and pack. I'll be in a new house after eight years in about two weeks. It's completely terrifying and the worst time of the year and world to do it. I'm not sure when I can register enough to even pick up the clothes off my floor, let alone take apart what has been so messily organized for my entire, conscious more-than-an-infant life.
from pancakes and orange juice
to shirley temples and fries
"No problem": the last words I ever say to somebody I have
been reasonably close to before our lives take different
directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at somebody's house,
you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and
kisses and flowers, you see them in their dressing gown...
and then, bang, that's it. Gone forever. And sooner or later
there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose
veins. They're all the same. Only the addresses, and the
colours of the dressing gown, change.
-Rob, HIGH FIDELITY (Nick Hornby)
It's funny when all you want to do is make yourself read a new book, start a new thing, a different day, and you pick up the one you read a year ago... or something. Those weird rotations. It's like an annual mental thing, that comes the way a girl menstruates, but less predictable and often. It's a seasonal thing for me, I think. I mean I find myself listening to the seriously pathetic mix CD I made exactly a year ago. Mind you I also find myself wishing to crawl into bed with my mum in the middle of the night and asking her to fix it. Make it better. Do you ever get that helpless, child-like, 'I need someone to fix it' feeling, because I guess you need that maternal figure to depend on when you get that feeling like everything is gone. I don't know, I haven't gotten it in about a decade. I recently want to fall and scrape my knee at 3am so that I can go and ask her to find me a band-aid or something.
So my family has suddenly (and yet finally, as if I never quite expected it to happen, and required a firm warning sign of some sort) began to take my house apart and pack. I'll be in a new house after eight years in about two weeks. It's completely terrifying and the worst time of the year and world to do it. I'm not sure when I can register enough to even pick up the clothes off my floor, let alone take apart what has been so messily organized for my entire, conscious more-than-an-infant life.
from pancakes and orange juice
to shirley temples and fries