Reviewing the Void.

I’ve just been taking solace again in the re-reading of old blog posts. Some of them were very good, you know, and for me to say that is most unusual because I’d usually be the last person to say it. So maybe I’m right this time and a selection of them really would make a good book. (Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe I’m just seeking a reason to have an operation so as to carry on living the life I don’t have. Irony sometimes appeals and sometimes it doesn’t.)

It’s just that I’m feeling quite frustrated at being unable to make proper posts instead of spewing forth an endless succession of entries in a whinge journal. It’s all to do with the looming iceberg, as you might imagine, and with that visitation I had early in the winter long before I knew there was anything wrong with me. It spoke out of deep darkness and intense cold one night, and gave me a chilling message which I chose to assume was nothing more than my imagination at work. It probably was, but it still happened and it was still chilling and it’s part of the reason why I fear the iceberg so much. Apart from that, I don’t want to talk about it.

And the interesting thing about my present situation is that, for the first time in my life, I feel the desperate need of a hand to hold (physically speaking.) There are none, of course, because anybody who ever tried to hold my hand (metaphorically speaking) was rapidly consigned to the wasteland. I was born fiercely independent and remained so right up until about two months ago. But I was intrigued to find a quotation from Mr Wallander Senior in one of the old posts I read:

You never stop and look at life, do you? You just drive straight through it. You should stop and sit, but find somebody to sit with you. You can’t do it on your own. Nobody can.

Well, it would be pointless to say that I was wrong to be so independent. If one of your rare virtues is the need to be authentic, you just have to be whatever you are and accept the consequences when they happen.