John Harvey

John Harvey is a novelist the Guardian approves of.

Therefore I must read him - he's a crime writer with grit and emotion. Apparently.

I wouldn't know, I've not read his novels before unless that blue book up on the shelf - nope, that's by Peter Robinson - another crime writer but pretty awful - him I've read. Once.

Dr. K called today and blamed the hormones coursing through the food and water which we eat and drink for the SOM the good Dr. is in. Stop. I said, the SOM is catching. And it was.

Bleah. It was very annoying hearing horoscopes that are out of date - those set in August to be precise. Yes. Those ones. That brings to mind Vikram Seth:

"How are you?"
"Oh, you know, a little bit of rice here and there sustains me".

Or, as Dr. J would have said, "How to do work? Want to die, don't die, don't want to die, also don't live".

Which is all a fancy way of saying that one is crossing the threshold from OCT to OCD while making a pit-stop in being passive-aggressive (funny how "aggressive-passive" doesn't quite work).

Can I make a confession to you? Do you have a choice? Do I care about the second answer which answers the first?

There - so this is the confession. I'm tired of the low-level grumbling about things said, things not done, or things done, but not to standard ("Macam-macam saja-lah. You tahu-lah, Kampung standard what"). I mean if ever there was a time for saying, Shit or get off the pot, this has to be it. Stop - please stop - Mr. there a letter for me - oops, just channeled the Sprog and her Chorus. Imagine - kids these days have their own personal chorus.

Seriously though. I can't take it. I will have to say something one day - gently, nicely, but firmly. It won't go over well, umbrage will be taken, accusations of not being supportive nor understanding will follow, but I shall not feel guilt. I shall feel great relief once I've said it. Because - really, Basta! C'est assez! Enough is enough is enough...oops Babs and Donna again.

It's sad in a way - but not really. Reality of this sort is actually preferable in the long run to delirious delusion. So there you go, not really sad, but sad in a real way. Like the gap which lies between what you wish things to be, and what they really are, and whose name is disappointment, the sadness which I place every so carefully between reality and not-reality is really the same as the gap. Well, it would be wouldn't it? Not like anyone can sustain a burning almond stuck into a potato carved into the shape of a candle forever.

Today. I bought a ticket. Yes I did because it was time to do something for myself, and myself only. This is the first step in training myself to do something because I want to, and not because someone else wants me to. This is what is meant when the friendly dolphin (dolphins can actually be quite dangerous so don't get taken in by the smiling (apparently) face) in our lagoon when he says, "Reviewers can smell the fear and recognize writing that is writ for the sake of writing rather than writ out of true interest and curiosity" - which is another way of saying don't be like the people who say the survive on a little bit of rice, and a flower of broccoli.

So I've said the same thing over and over again in this post - The first agreement once again. Doing the right thing even when nobody is watching.

That and living big - at least starting to again. This too can be done. Again.