Blah, Blah, Blah

dimanche, le 20 septembre 2009

Not in a chatty, happy way. Not in an inspired, chipper way. Not in a desperate, depressed way. Just in a blah way. A kind of deflated, flat way. A Sunday bluesy way.

I potter around with a bit of this and a bit of that, but nothing settles. I pick up a bed rest read and decide it’s time for my coccyx to lie down. My mind potters around with words here and words there, but nothing settles.

I remember a conversation with L’homme not too long ago on the beach-front couch. He told me that he is reminded of me every morning when he opens his wardrobe. Funny that. All he has is his clothes. All his clothes I bought for him. What reminds me of him is his absence. The void he left behind. In my house, in my heart, in my life. I turn over and go to sleep.

I awoke and at times birds fled and migrated that had been sleeping in your soul.
~Pablo Neruda

I realise that it’s been a month since I posted The Inspiration. I’m secretly pleased that I’ve managed to take a daily journey in photos and words. Even if I sometimes upload a few journeys at a time, the journeys are taken daily and are uploaded as time permits. I inwardly cringe at the extent to which I am baring my soul in a public forum. But I remind myself that it is OK, because I want to be brave and strong and true. Cowardice, weakness and lies have never worked for me. I am now grappling with the full extent of L’homme’s cowardice, weakness and lies not only to me, but also to himself.

I cannot decide on a photo to go with today’s post. I curl up on the couch next to The Princess and absently flick through Pink Floyd’s ’channels of shit on the TV to choose from, choose from…’. Ah!!! Mamma Mia – The movie is showing in enough time for me to grab a glass of wine, empty my bladder and get a handful of snacks.

I danced to ABBA music at garage parties in my youth, liking their music much, much more than I ever admitted to. I have extremely fond memories of the evening My Bountiful Friend and I went to see the stage production with my Famous Friend. He had us rolling in the aisle with his interpretation of auditioning for a role in the Far East stage production. I wonder if L’homme can remember a morning when we saw the sun rise on his beach-front couch, screaming with laughter at the Global Investor, doing a Mamma Mia shuffle on the pavement? Be that all as it may, a bit of nostalgia was just what I needed on this Blah, Blah, Blah day.

Pure, pure, wonderful escapism!! But by the time Meryl Streep sang The winner takes it all, I simply howled. But then I also knew there was only one photo I could possibly add to today’s post.

(Walking down Broadway with L’homme exactly about two years ago, I must’ve known I would ultimately find a reason to use this photo. Or is this proof that I am even today more of a closet ABBA fan than I am prepared to admit?)