It's been four very very quiet days. May have something to do with the fact that I only wake up long after the sun goes down and fall asleep in the throes of noontime. I feel very conflicted about a lot of things and basically out of it.
So far the only things that abound are mosquitoes. Mum is irritated at my nocturnal habits but she bears it with her mixture of Bollywood and the trashy novels that Uncle Solomon gave her for Christmas that she can't seem to put down.
Speaking of novels, I have just finished the Lucia ones, and think that EF Benson is frigging genius. They are light, airy (kind of like PG Wodehouse) but here each sting tells. Maybe because all the principle characters are women. And men, such men as there happen to be, are only incidental, and don't really care about the outcomes of all these breathless intrigues. (The main man, the most vivid one there is, does petit point embroidery and polishes his bibelots, rejoices in the name Georgie and acts as Lucia's lieutenant).
I've started a project in New Year's which was supposed to have been completed in time for the Millennium. As you can imagine, it's seriously out of date, but I figured, as I want to finish all the projects I bought from Harvinder, oh all those years ago (the oldest are about 15 years old), I would work on it. I have finished the top border which is pretty good for four days. And it's pretty. And I have nobody to give it to and even if I did, they would think it pretty strange but I try not to think of that. Sometimes we must do senseless thing, to fill the empty hours.
My life is scattered pieces of sunshine and many drops of rain. Really, it's pretty much oblivion and my attempts to emerge from it.
2 comments:
Good post!!
Thank you. Kind words like that make me feel less alone and encourage me to keep writing.
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