madness, pre-midnight
Feb. 16th, 2004 11:47 pmFor the past few days I have felt strangely dislocated, as if I were on a bewildering cocktail of drugs. It is only severe sleep-deprivation, I think, but I am not tired, only distant, anxious in an empty, out-of-focus way. Today I sat down to read while I drank a cup of tea and looked up again to find it was three hours later. I wanted to continue reading but felt a sort of emotional sickness at the idea, put the book down and stared at a point on my coffee table, trying to assemble my thoughts. I could not work, that was out of the question. I picked up a tin whistle and played Salley Gardens, plaintive and halting, and was shocked by how loud the notes sounded in the strange silence produced by the constant, unregistered whir of the computer fan.
In the end I walked over to the boys' house, hoping that Iain would be in, rehearsing what I was going to say as I padded, hands shoved in pockets, across the paddock in the cold dark. He wasn't there and I chatted to his mates instead, conducted a mission to retrieve chunky milk from the fridge, laughed in genuine amusement. Stepped outside again into the star-encrusted night with my emotions temporarily in place; cheered only superficially, but enough.
It’s an odd addiction, reading. A strange, cruel sort of pleasure that leaves you stranded, afterwards, disorientated, blinking in the sudden and unwanted light of reality. Dazed, like the calm after a storm, but with nameless things still raging inside, unvoiced. Reading for protracted lengths of time is a self-indulgent, guilty pleasure; like an orgasm, shivering internally with bursts of surprise and delight but outwardly showing nothing. A petit mort, a temporary losing of the self. It is a vice, I’m sure of it. A sin. I am anxious, now, afraid to pick up the book in case I lose time again, but I cannot resist. I go under for too long, testing fate, staying in the beautiful, mysterious deeps for as long as I can bear it before rising again to the surface and taking great, desperate gulps of air.
I cannot stay in that place forever. But having glimpsed it once, I feel at times like these that I will nowhere else know that same piercing clarity of happiness.
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on 2004-02-16 03:56 pm (UTC)As Terry Pratchett put it, escapism is great as long as you're escaping to rather than from.
We should do something this week. How's Thursday?
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on 2004-02-16 05:33 pm (UTC)(except apologies for being an utter knob when you were in a bit of a state earlier.)
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on 2004-02-17 02:45 am (UTC)Just want to express my appreciation for this particular sentence. I love how you string your words.
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on 2004-02-17 02:49 am (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-17 05:22 am (UTC)really like the new bio on your userinfo, by the way. rah.
(hush, you weren't a knob. Sorry I was so brusque is all, but perhaps this explains it a bit? I'm still shatteringly tired.)
xxx
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on 2004-02-17 05:26 am (UTC)I have a particular favourite Pratchett quote on escapism, I'm just trying to remember it ... it's from Hogfather, something like "Humanity needs escapism to be human; to be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape". Always liked that.
Thursday is cool. I have a spvn at 4 but any time before that is good. Although I think it would be nicer to go to the arts cinema sometime - say Friday evening? There's bound to be something good on. Then afterwards we can go to CB2 or something and drink coffee and smoke and talk about the film in uber-pretentious ways.
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on 2004-02-17 05:29 am (UTC)expect post! x
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on 2004-02-17 08:38 am (UTC)Thursday's good, Friday's not. I have to go home and see my shrink. But we utterly must do that sometime.
no subject
on 2004-02-17 02:46 pm (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-17 06:14 pm (UTC)Concentrate less on characters and more on aim. Then, I'm sure, the characters in need of axing will be beheaded.
Bio is not complete. There are a couple of things needing adding, but yes, I'm pleased with it. How do you do the Trademark sign?
And don't apologise for being brusque. Brusque is what I need, completely, with regard to that. I've decided that every time I feel temptation of that sort you need to say NOOOOOOO in a similarly brusque way. I can't sleep and have to be up in about five hours for a seminar on Eirik the Red. Yippeeee. xxxxx
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on 2004-02-18 02:14 am (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-18 02:20 am (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-18 02:20 am (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-18 02:31 am (UTC)Actually my real fiction is going okay, although I think the idea is too basic and don't want to start "padding it out" with sub plots 'cause that's just stupid. The character problem is more in the porn. Porn! I'm determined to write very good intelligent porn, you see, with plot and things. I've seen it done. it's a lesbian thing and all these women were appearing to seduce or be seduced by her and they're all amazing, different women and there's no way I can have all of them. Maybe I should split it into two seperate stories. Aaaaanyway. It's just occurred to me quite how ridiculous this is.
I'm having the opposite problem with temptation at the moment. Why can't I get the same temptation there was with C, now there's no reason I shouldn't do it? Ali suggested yesterday maybe the whole temptation lay in the forbiddenness of it. Gahhhh. Just my luck: as soon as I'm single I lose, not my sex drive, but the capacity to fancy ANYONE. it's not fair! still, I'm seeing Ll again and I'm hoping he'll change my mind... he sent me a very keen email yesterday. opportunity not to be missed, I feel. xxxxx
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on 2004-02-18 02:51 am (UTC)without spaces, obviously :)
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on 2004-02-18 08:08 am (UTC)Re:
on 2004-02-18 10:36 am (UTC)to show that this was written prior perhaps or that original mood in the entry has shifted since with the writer in person.
this is very perceptive... I know exactly what you mean, I just couldn't put it into words.
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on 2004-02-18 10:37 am (UTC)