Talking to Myself and Other Signs of Madness.

I hate the ageing process.

Why?

Why do you think? That guy in the mirror isn’t me. He’s not who I’m used to being. I want to be fit and strong again. I want to be able to run ten miles and lift heavy things and climb mountains and feed my addiction like I used to.

And what addiction would that be?

Never mind. I just want my young body back again, the one that had two kidneys and a spring in its step and didn’t make me feel embarrassed to be seen in public.

So you want be who you were thirty years ago?

Of course.

No, you don’t. Ageing is a trade-off. The body fades; that’s the loss. But you gain wisdom in compensation.

Ah, the old wisdom argument. So what, may I ask, is the value of wisdom?

You get to understand things better.

I know, that’s the problem. The more I understand things, the more I get depressed.

That’s just being negative. Perception is the whole of the life experience.

Plagiarism will get you nowhere. Go to sleep.

*  *  *

It is an ironic fact that the wiser you get, the less you’re sure you know. So is all this living stuff going somewhere or not? And I had a situation this morning which made me seriously suspect that my mind is fading along with my body. I was already depressed. (I always am in the morning, you know. It goes back to my childhood and I have no idea where it came from.) And it’s been an unusually busy week for me so now I’m tired and don’t want to write any more.

Except to say that House got married in tonight’s episode, just to piss Cuddy off because she’d dumped him two episodes earlier. When they returned to his apartment after the nuptials, his bride said:

‘I know this marriage is fake but I really do like you.’

‘I like you, too,’ said the good doctor with a heartening show of earnestness.

So then she began to manoeuvre into full consummation mode, and he said:

‘I can’t. I never sleep with married women. I’m going to bed; you take the couch.’

Oh for the opportunity.