Emotionally British
Other people have diaries that talk about their lives. I’ve suddenly become unable to do that. Talking about myself is still my favourite past time – don’t worry about that – but the dementia seems to have claimed my ability to talk about myself in the context of current events.
I just spent forever trying to write an entry about shit happening in a me… life… context.. , but it was so incoherent I couldn’t finish it. It would be a crime against the English language.
I can’t even be bothered to recount my social life anymore.
FUCK I can’t do anything. I’m a verbal cripple.
I think I’ve trained myself too well. You’d think that the internet is one place you can come to talk about things you’ve learnt not to talk about in person, but it’s not so easy to compartmentalise it like that. I can’t talk about it here, I can’t bring it up in conversation to normal people, I can’t even talk to the goddamn relationship counsellor without feeling painfully awkward and trying to dress things up so they seem nicer than they are. Like I’m British or something.
Well, I thought things were pretty good and didn’t need dressing up. But apparently I’m a moron and no one should ever listen to what I say ever. Luckily, they don’t anyway.
More tea?
Regarding your note, thanks for commenting and yes the kid was okay. He was crying and had snot bubbles coming out of his nose but who hasn’t. In regards to this entry, Morons are usually the smartest ones in the bunch. Take care.
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Oh yes, jolly good, and I’ll have one of those scones with cream and jam too please 😀
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Too bad you’re not emotionally american. Then you could just buy a bunch of Dr. Phil books.
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Tell me about it. I’ve been writing utter bollocks for years now.
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Tell me about it. I’ve been writing utter bollocks for years now.
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RYN: I would prefer blood.
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Haha! Come to Minnesota. I think it’s against the law to talk about feelings here. I called my mom yesterday to tell her that her brother was in the hospital and just had a stint put in his heart. She said, “Oh.”
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Yes, please. ryn: Blow vuvuzelas at them. I’d rather be punched than hear that.
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Oh I listen! And at least you can write such a nice, eloquent entry about not being able to write about yourself. I can’t even seem to do that. I just ‘cancel’ed an entry a few moments ago. I couldn’t get anywhere. So, yeah, I like and appreciate this entry of yours. It’s on point. I get it. And I”m fairing worse than you. 😉
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My general sense of my journal is that it is primarily a place to save small writing ideas… be they short stories, poems, songs, scenelets, jokes or just the kernels of notions… but when I really NEED to write literally about my life, that’s okay too. Because it’s all the same thing. Our lives are our ideas are our failed art are our brilliant notions. They’re all the same thing. We are not divisible from our work. Our work is not divisible from ourselves. Sometimes the most literal expression of a feeling in my life can come out, in the journal, as a random joke or an expressionistic poem. Sometimes the best idea for a fictional work down the road can be caught up in literally expressing something that went down in my really-real life. At the most, you could maybe say it is a continuum. A spread out rainbow of truth, interpretation and fictionality. Often, though, it is all the same ball at once. They’re all caught up so tightly that you can’t even hope to splay it out into a spectrum. It’s all the same thing. Where there is use of words, there is inescapable overlap. It is the very nature of the abstracti
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…the abstracting mechanism that IS language.
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ryn: woah that is some seriously good going, well done! Have you kept it up? I’ll cross my fingers for some similar results. I had to google FTW 😛 gonna have to get in on the lingo so I am!
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Hmm.
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ryn: lol Im cool with people who stand by the poor grammar they use, but don’t friggen tell me that you aren’t actually dumb; you’re just pressed for time. Because that means you assume that I’M dumb enough to believe that shit lol cuntknuckles… the place is full of them, and apparently they reproduce. Hope she’s not the one teaching him how to ‘wright’
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