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28 March 2008
37. Delusional Authors All
“Get up!”
It's a rusty kind of day. Something has got into my joints and I'm creaking and ineffectual, every movement is a grind and I feel bits of me grating and flaking. That's what the other night has done to me. Mentally, I'm all dizzy, thoughts just slide out of my head and nothing seems able to grip them. Physically, I'm all slowed-down and dilapidated. As I say: rusty. Crush and recycle me. It's all I'm good for.
“When are you going to get up!”
I know that it's largely because my system doesn't want to consider what happened to me the other night. There's only so much that can be handled by me, or any human being, at any one time - I want peace, tranquility, space for reparation and reformation. No boats will be rocked by me today. Boats will love the sea today and feel it to be their friend.
“You are such a waste of space, Steph Fey! Get up! Show some stomach! Show some fight!”
“I can’t get up! I don’t want to get up!”
This blogging experience. I’ve been thinking a little about this blogging experience. While my head’s under the covers and while Kidman hovers, paces and witter’s on.
“That’s not important. Getting up, that’s what’s important!”
What is it I’m doing by blogging? Some kind of electronic message in a bottle, yes - but more than that. Is it about some absolute truth of our times presented to someone and everyone, or more an eternal facade with the appearance of truth about it, presented to others who also love the lie more than the truth? Yes, what is any of this? Eternal truth or despicable lie? Who knows? Surely not us authors of these so-called blogs, not us - delusional authors all, that's who we are. Fooling ourselves; fooling each other.
“Oh, you boring cow! Who cares? Get up, dull bitch! Get up! That’s all that matters!”
Delusional authors all. But I won't rock that boat today either. Liars are safe on the sea today. Even liars will love the sea today! I can’t hold the thought anyway. I can’t hold the idea to see it though. It’s slipped away already, whatever it was that I meant, whatever it was I was thinking of.
“Oh, budge up! If you’re going to be so achingly dull then I’m off to sleep too! Oh, please don’t stop, mummy, please talk complete tedious shit some more!”
Bloody Kidman! Will she ever leave me in peace! She’s climbing into the bed now!
“Will you leave me alone? I don’t want to get up! I don’t want you annoying me! Go and run away again like you did last night! I’m exhausted! My chest and my head feel like I’m poisoned and I need to be left alone, please! Go and read the case-notes again, or something. Please, Kidman! Pretty-please sod off.”
“Case-notes. Pointless. I’m done with those. Delusional authors all, every last one of them!”
Oh. What happened there? I couldn’t quite believe it. She was actually getting out of the bed now. Now I could sleep! I could rest now. Now, some delicious emptiness to just rest and heal!
“I’m more interested in my plan. My plan is the thing now.” And she was gone, off into the little corridor. The Yale lock turned and then she was out into the main hallway.
Plan? What plan?
I found myself to be screaming after her as loudly as I could: “Damn you, Kidman! Damn you! Plan? What plan?”
I know she heard me. I know she wasn’t that far away. But what did she say in reply? “What? Sorry! I can’t hear you!”
I sat up in bed and thought. Suddenly I had the energy to sit up! And suddenly I found I could think! Should I get up? Should I? Could I?
Plan? What could Kidman’s plan possibly be?
Want to read more? Read the whole story by clicking on the first blog called Prelude and start clicking forwards using the tabs above the title.
09:20 Posted in Part Two: Getting Some Answers | Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this | Tags: haunted house, ghost story, horror story, astronaut, space, nicole kidman, journal
Comments
Hah! Shes gonna buckin die and um gonna buckin luv it! Go on, astroman, git yer hands round her fat old tuba neck and ringadingding it! yeah! throttle her till she cant speak no more, cant write no more, cant do my buckin head in anymore. ho ho! um gona buckin buckin buckin buckin buckin well luv it!
Posted by: Watcher of the Sad | 28 March 2008