Who knows where the time goes?

[j4]

Wednesday:
Finally gave up and called in sick to work, too tired to stand up. I had been having trouble sleeping because of bunged-up-ness and sore throat, so I didn't feel too guilty. (If you can see or hear it, it's a real illness... No, really.)

Intended to get some sleep, but people kept distracting me with irc and email. Not that I ever mind at the time, of course. Eventually my body worked out that it wasn't going to get any sleep even if it kept pestering me, so it perked up a bit. Which was fortunate, as it meant I was awake enough to meet up with hoiho for dinner and poetry. Good food, good poetry, better company. :-) Roger McGough was excellent as usual; hoiho has already done a short version of the standard review, so just imagine I did one here too. ("Blah blah Liverpool poets ... on good form ... from the poignant to the philosophical to the just plain funny ... truths for our times, memorably expressed ... etc.")

"The Way Things Are" still hit me just the way it always does, though.


Thursday:
Had lunch in town with lnr, which was lovely, even if she was a bundle of nerves about her Hot Date. :-) Did more shopping than I should have done ... bought a cute little denim halter-neck top, and a black shirt with a MILLION BILLION POCKETS on it. Also finally gave in and bought the tATu album.

Thought I had karate after work, but when I got there somebody else was just arriving thinking it was time for their lesson... of course I'd forgotten that there was a sword workshop on Friday (tonight) this week, so I was counting that as my week's lesson. Felt annoyed with myself for being so stupid.

I'd agreed to stay in for "quality time" (blehh, horrid phrase) with sion_a last night, & we tried to talk about stuff but just ended up making each other tearful and miserable. Not helped by me being twitchy about other stuff anyway. More or less sorted things out short-term, and curled up to watch "The Big Sleep" together -- fantastic film! -- but I still don't feel like much has been sorted out or changed long-term. :-(


And now:
I'm tired, so tired. I feel hollow inside.

In the animated film "Flight of Dragons", they explain how dragons fly; it's all to do with hot air, and limestone in the belly. Anyway, if you run out of limestone, or you breathe out too much fire, you run out of hot air and you can't fly any more. If you let it get to that point, there's nothing you can do about it; you just crash and burn.

I seem to have been thinking about dragons a lot lately.

Also thinking about personals ads. Finding it very difficult to write one for myself, because I can think of so many different ones depending on the mood I'm in. Currently thinking of something along the lines of:

"Tired saggy jumper seeks strong body to give it new shape. Wear me in, wear me out! Unravelling in places but still comfortable."

... I feel like I've lost all my sharp edges. Things used to be brighter, sharper, clearer. Mostly I just want to sleep.

Comments

[hoiho.livejournal.com]

Anything with Bogie in is a fantastic film by default

Well, that can't be argued with.

but The Big Sleep is the best

But I'd have to suggest The Maltese Falcon here.
Close though it is.

[j4.livejournal.com]

> Anything with Bogie in is a fantastic film by default
Well, that can't be argued with.

Ditto Bacall. Mmmm. ("You be Bogart, and I'll be Bacall.")

[huskyteer.livejournal.com]

Big Sleep wins for me due to superiority of the source material; Chandler can write Hammett into a cocked hat IMHO.

I have the same birthday as Lauren Bacall.

[hoiho.livejournal.com]

Chandler can write Hammett into a cocked hat IMHO

Mine too; currently by my bed are the complete Hammet novels, and several Chandler novels, and collected short stories from Black Mask (among other books).

I'd forgotten quite how good a writer Chandler really was.

[j4.livejournal.com]

I'd forgotten quite how good a writer Chandler really was.

Chandler (at his best, at least) is one of the very few writers who makes me think "Yes, I would actually give as many limbs as necessary to be able to write like that." So wonderfully, effortlessly laconic and poetic all at once. Breathtakingly perfect observation of everything from coffee-spoons to the whole goddamn universe. Dialogue that's so fucking sharp you could dry-shave with it without even raising a rash.

God, sorry, I sound like an NME hack wanking over the Next Big Thing. I'll shut up now.