Friday, November 18, 2005


The guilt is wriggling wormlike through my veins and I can't bear it, but I'm happy.

My feelings lurch between utter distempt (is this another made up word of mine? why spell check assures me that it is - distempt - a blend of distemper and contempt) and glee.

The distempt is due to:

1. the anticipated arrival of next months ever increasing visa bill
2. the fact that I fancy myself above such crud as being a darned consumer
3. Dorothy aint never getting to Berlin if she keeps buying sparkly things

and the glee is due to the fact that:

1. bags and boxes are covering swathes of my sitting room all filled with NEW things
2. I own a pair of Doc Boots (and they are funky modern ones so nah)
3. I have two pairs of fancy glasses and the optician said my eyesight has improved which leads me to posit that I am in fact getting younger and will be the only person who lives forever, a bit like Dorian Gray
4. Sparkly lovely things are mine, all mine, you are mine my precious....

So, seeing as I'm in the mood of doing lists, I'm going to continue:

nice things that happened this week:

1. boychildmanthing thought I was twenty one! Twenty one! Twenty one! I am therefore great and beautiful and wonderful. Sh*t. There I go again selling out my ideals and buying into the prefeminist convention of judging my relative success by my appearance.

not nice things that happened this week:

1. Sh*t. If it is a shock that I am so old, then that means I'm past it. I'm old.
2. If I'm past it, why am I gadding around in acting classes, I'm like that ancient woman in Sunset Boulevard, except I can't act as good as she does.
3. And yoga was quite tiring this week. I swear we took an especially big break after I nearly landslid from the Mountain into the Cobra.
4. Old ladies began to want to hang out with me. Yesterday that woman on the traffic island. Today I got on very well with the optician, we talked as though we were mates, not like last time I went which was as though I was some kid.
5. And maybe my Doc Boots are only superhotflycool in my head. Maybe everyone else looks at me and thinks, 'bless, look at that mad woman who thinks it is 1988'

This is cr*p. I've totally ruined my own buzz. I'm going to drink myself drunk.

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