Heavens. Just signed up, and already feeling a slight dizziness from the stranglehold of committment. To qualify for this batch, I have eight entries to catch up. Worried. Have I anything to say? Can I commit to writing every day? How much is a hundred words? Will I fill one entry with the word "supercalifraglisticexpialidocious" repeated one hundred times? Will this exercise bring me a new career? Passion? Obession? A rash and some mild sweating? Gone over already. Deleting. This will be interesting.
True genius is inspiring, minds that understand life's intracasies are sublime, elastic and fascinating. But "So what do you do?" and I'm undone. The man smiles, polite and chinless, glasses crooked on his unimpressive nose, behind which lurks a brain as expansive and complex as the sky, ordered as a microfilm library, worth its weight in rhodium. My confidence wibbles. I am about to be exposed as a pretender and I briefly consider a "We're not worthy!!" response in the style of Wayne's World.
Fighting my way to conscious thought through dreamy mists of a painkiller haze. It shouldn't be like this, I took them hours ago. I'm not a fan or an addict, this isn't my filthy habit or dirty secret. At times I can understand why you might. It's not unpleasant being air-lifted out of the exhaustling, bone-crunching grip of pain, feeling my muscles drop, relaxed and heavy, my brain dormouse quiet as after the deep sleep following a great massage. But it won't clear...must concentrate...
If I was a writer, in my ideal studio, what would it be like...I write and draw simultaneously, one medium inspiring the other, a delicious tumbling of creativity! The room is cool not cold, music changing intuitively with the mood. My table and chair are beautifully fashioned in wood and the wall behind me is warm white. I'm flanked by bookshelves heaving with volumes, magazines and materials. Fabulous, juicy coloured pictures adorn the walls in front of me. In the centre is a stone fireplace which fires up in the evening.
The Gains and Losses of Breaking UpGains:Independence, sleep, a healthier lifestyle, my friends' respect. Fabulous.Losses:Several unwanted kilos I'd gained with him, expensive weekly tube journeys. I didn't even lose him. We still have a chat, have a fag. Chew the fat. Shoot the breeze. But his long arm, warming round my shoulders, encircling my waist as we danced down the street, curling around me as we sleep.I lost his arm, and sometimes it is all I can think about.
Staccato, high-speed fingernail slap-tapping the keyboard.Half-sung, half-whispered singing.Hissed, repetitive, unimaginative swearing at inanimate objects.Huffing and sighing with exaggerated emphasis.Virulent negativity.Refusal to attempt to remember faces or names.Refusal to attempt to correctly pronounce names.Sucking large mouthfuls of food up from paper napkin nosebags.Speaking with an over-full mouth.Speaking on the phone with an over-full mouth.Active resistence to seeing fun in life.Childish smirking at things that just aren't funny.Please God, either give me a new job or let me punch her.