Saturday, 8 November 2008
The best ones give you writers block.
What is the word for the lover you thought was The love but wasn't?
And when you figure out what to call him, how do you begin to say sorry?
And when you figure out what to call him, how do you begin to say sorry?
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
My election moments
In Greece
The top three remember-forever election moments from Barack Obama 2008:1. Historic both politically and personally - I stayed glued to my laptop all night, drinking 'American Cola' (seriously - when you're too broke to drink Coke, just how broke are you exactly!? - still, it was good stuff) and writing my first lecture, toggling between .pdfs and the huffington post, NY times, the independent, Barackobama.com, the guardian.... Around four, we were both done. And I settled down to listen to his acceptance speech and burst into tears.
2. Running between my 'office' and the Man's room every time a state turned Obama, and saying, 'PENN!!!!' and 'NEW YORK!!!!!' and...'OHIO!!!' Sitting on the Man's lap and watching the electoral vote cross.... 200.... 230.... 270... 300.... and onwards and upwards.
3. Standing, dazed and happy at the bus top this morning, freezing cold, and seeing one of my old professors - a self-confessed and extremely proud socialist - running (he is past retirement age) with a big smile on his face, towards the bus. We smiled and both immediately knew: 'You didn't get any sleep, did you!!'
Him: 'It was astounding, wasn't it?' (Oh yes, dude, it was)
Him: 'It's a changed world'.
It may not be, it may just be the buzzzzzzzzzz speaking. But it certainly felt like it in that moment. And what was especially touching: He said it so enthusiastically, with so little caution or restraint. If I had said it that way, people would probably give me the old 'Awww, so naive, so young. Stupid, they're all the same' speech. I'm so glad we were miles away from any such people on that bus ride. The pair of us giggled and gossiped about each YouTube clip we'd seen through the night, all the way from Debenhams to campus. When someone older acts as if the world is young again, it's so... touching. And inspiring. If he can spot it too, perhaps I am not entirely alone in being mindlessly and needlessly happy?
(Please, Gods of Hindsight treat with kindness).
Ladies and Gentlemen: Barack Obama is in the White House.
Martin Luther King Jr.'s sister celebrates Obama
Both images from The Huffington Post.
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Ten second later edit: OMG the moon is (almost) exactly half dark, half light tonight? Synchronity, how I love thee.
pps - I think I am now all wired out. In precisely two minutes, I shall fall asleep in my bowl of soup. 'Night.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Sunday, 2 November 2008
I can't seem to stop today.
Here's another one.
Is this greed?
I came from the greatest love story I know.
And I want to equal it in my own life.
It's not enough that it's already in every cell, every drop of my physicality comes from the something chemical they share.
I want to recreate it.
Would this be too much of a good thing for one human being? To start and end with cosmic love?
Or perhaps once you start like that, it's always with you, but in much more intangible sense than I would like.
And is it even possible?
Does like attract like, or do opposites attract?
I have no doubt whatsoever about the authenticity of the beginning.
This is true, even if it is the only true thing I will ever stake my life on: My mother and father are every great love story, sung and unsung. With all the glorious pathos, all the reverberating passion and every drop of sacred bliss.
I came from this.
There is nothing cliche about this.
Whatever they are (and they are so much), they are not superficial in any respect. They're the real thing. I've watched them. Objectively and not. You can't help but be moved. It takes a certain degree of deadness to be immune to their glow. You'd have to be the sort who can sit on the edge of a storm and as it dances around you, do your nails instead of exault and play in the wind.
I am not the second type of person.
Possibly because of them.
(Thank you, guys. Thank you.)
The effect does not dull with exposure. It sharpens. Isn't that a good indication that it's the real thing? It gets better as you go along? It is always different, yet unchanging, always surprising, yet full of comfort. It is always moving.
Now.
As to what the end will look like.
One approach would be:
You already seem to be on your way! Look what's sitting on the other side of the room as you type this! The Man! And you're capitalising the M.!
The other would be:
You cannot know.
This scares the living daylights out of me. I would prefer if it didn't. But it does.
Here's another one.
Is this greed?
I came from the greatest love story I know.
And I want to equal it in my own life.
It's not enough that it's already in every cell, every drop of my physicality comes from the something chemical they share.
I want to recreate it.
Would this be too much of a good thing for one human being? To start and end with cosmic love?
Or perhaps once you start like that, it's always with you, but in much more intangible sense than I would like.
And is it even possible?
Does like attract like, or do opposites attract?
I have no doubt whatsoever about the authenticity of the beginning.
This is true, even if it is the only true thing I will ever stake my life on: My mother and father are every great love story, sung and unsung. With all the glorious pathos, all the reverberating passion and every drop of sacred bliss.
I came from this.
There is nothing cliche about this.
Whatever they are (and they are so much), they are not superficial in any respect. They're the real thing. I've watched them. Objectively and not. You can't help but be moved. It takes a certain degree of deadness to be immune to their glow. You'd have to be the sort who can sit on the edge of a storm and as it dances around you, do your nails instead of exault and play in the wind.
I am not the second type of person.
Possibly because of them.
(Thank you, guys. Thank you.)
The effect does not dull with exposure. It sharpens. Isn't that a good indication that it's the real thing? It gets better as you go along? It is always different, yet unchanging, always surprising, yet full of comfort. It is always moving.
Now.
As to what the end will look like.
One approach would be:
You already seem to be on your way! Look what's sitting on the other side of the room as you type this! The Man! And you're capitalising the M.!
The other would be:
You cannot know.
This scares the living daylights out of me. I would prefer if it didn't. But it does.
A wonderful togetherness
Is effortless.
Like this:
You set the alarm for early morning and decide to go up the hill to the Spar, before sunrise, and get a takeaway coffee while the beautiful dreamless man (insomniac, incurable) wraps up his night. You picture walking up the street in the dark, sniffing out the coffee. You want to surprise the girl behind the counter: No, I'm waking up, not going to bed. You want to see if the homeless guy at the street corner is asleep and if he's not, you'd like to say hello. You fall asleep, dreaming of the day that's going to begin in this way, and you're awoken, half an hour after the alarm you slept through, to find takeaway coffee from the Spar steaming on your bedside table and those arms around you, waking you.
And you wonder:
How.
Like this:
You set the alarm for early morning and decide to go up the hill to the Spar, before sunrise, and get a takeaway coffee while the beautiful dreamless man (insomniac, incurable) wraps up his night. You picture walking up the street in the dark, sniffing out the coffee. You want to surprise the girl behind the counter: No, I'm waking up, not going to bed. You want to see if the homeless guy at the street corner is asleep and if he's not, you'd like to say hello. You fall asleep, dreaming of the day that's going to begin in this way, and you're awoken, half an hour after the alarm you slept through, to find takeaway coffee from the Spar steaming on your bedside table and those arms around you, waking you.
And you wonder:
How.
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