Wooly Headed
I know it’s amazingly boring listenign to me dribble on about being ill. But that and work (which I can’t talk about) are pretty much all that I’ve got going on at the moment.
I came home today and fell asleep in the chair. Except for a little emailing I am finding it very hard to concentrate on anything real. I saw a girl I knew very well in the street a couple of days ago -she told me some good news and then had to run off as she was late for a thing. As she walked away she shouted back, ‘Add me on Facebook!’. Now, that would be a genius idea if I could remember what her name was.
I’ve been trying syllables out in my head… Seeeeee….arrrrrr….geeeee….miiiiii….loooooo….zaaaaa…. in the hope that one of them will jump out and trigger some memory. I have looked through the old diaries in the vague hope that I was writing at that time. I wasn’t…
I feel really bad about this! She was really important to me! I remember her daughters name and where her Mum comes from and about how she feels about her religion and lots of details, but nothing that will bring the Search number under 500+. I even hunted through a mutual friend’s friend list to try and gain some inspiration but nothing. It’s making me wonder what, and who, else I have forgotten over the years. Maybe I should just start writing everything down again.
My old diaries are full of ‘details’. Times and places and people’s full names and the exact way someone looked and sounded when they said the exact words I have written on the page. Now they are full of vague feelings and random thoughts. It’s gone from Realism to Impressionism in just a few short (well very very very long) years, via a sideshow of Minimalism. It’s a whole history of Art - wonder what they will look like when I reach the Cubist or Surrealist part of my life?
Yep, that would be one too many cough lozenges.
