April 16, 2006

Wake me up from my reverie

Something had to do it. Ostensibly it was the consumption four hours earlier of my last soluble voltaren alongside my last nurofen plus that had me finally biting the bullet and resolving to Get Up. At approx 12:49pm, seconds after I'd switched on my mobile - the true sign that I was allowing the world in - Jo's text arrived. "You're in the Sunday paper mag."

Yikes. What? Who? Why? Oh, the blog. Right... that means... someone might visit. What nonsense have I posted most recently? - Some recycled whingeing recounting my ongoing desire to be where I'm not.

There's been an electrical storm in my head for the past three days, which is why I've spent them almost exclusively in bed. Disgusting. Four days off for Easter and I just stay in bed. (She rose on the third day.) I've been sleeping and thinking and reading 'The Third Policeman'. During all that half-awake downtime, a few things occurred to me. It's all very well to whine away on one's own blog, but what's to be gained? What's up with always wanting to be somewhere I'm not? What is it that's so special about this mythical land of Elsewhere? I'm going to try harder to Be Happy With Now. Feeling alive and participant in the world after three days of going under is a good start. And, sometimes you just have to appreciate the value in a thing and then accept that it's gone.

I walked to the dairy. As I held my $2 out to the shopkeeper, over the static clatter of the antimatter I faintly heard him say, "That will be $14 for reading the paper first."

"But I'm in it! I just had to make sure," I protested.
"You're in it? What for?"
"You'll have to read it and guess," I smiled sweetly. (I can do that.)

I walked home, accompanied by the Mull Historical Society's 'Barcode Bypass', reflecting how they're yet another band I dutifully witnessed at 2002's Roskilde festival and only properly appreciated long after the fact. I also reflect on what it is to write "very nicely", and how apt it is for Ms Hill Cone to write about my pot-plants, when I am intending to complete my rescue mission next weekend, hoping fervently that said plants won't have grown too much to fit into my wee car. And that they are still alive.

Tomorrow morning I meet Dad off the plane from Nepal. I'm looking forward to it.

4 Comments:

Blogger Jo Hubris said...

Oh so people write about themselves online? And it's not all about politics? Woah, I think I'm sensing a HIP NEW TREND here! I'm so glad the Sunday Star Times alerted me to it, cos otherwise I'd have no idea what those wacky yoof were up to.

I'll repeat my text here: the crappiest sentence you write here is a thousand times better than any drivel the SST could ever write.

Also: come online, my texting thumb hurts. You know what the SST should write about? This new fangled thing called the text message...

5:41 AM  
Blogger Anna said...

Hey Jess, glad you have resurfaced, hope you are feeling better. I thought Dad was returning TODAY!?! I have Meg here and we look forward to seeing you soon, way down, beyond the Bombay hills...

11:47 AM  
Blogger Jessie said...

Anna - no, it was today, ie tomorrow. Great to see him too.

7:53 AM  
Blogger Peter said...

best thing about Ms Hill-Cone's SST piece? She got ALL the blogs she mentioned from links on Chad Taylors page, and then she got his website address wrong.

10:23 PM  

Post a Comment