The first was the six years up to May 2012. I call it my golden period. A few unsightly scratches were in evidence, but mostly it was about the end of my fiction writing, the start of the blog, and the making of connections with a number of people who enlivened my life most wonderfully.
The second was the six years between May 2012 and March 2018. I call that one my brown period. Many of the special connections, in particular the most notable of all at the start of the period, fell away and a sense of loss began to impose itself on my perceptions. The unsightly scratches developed into sore and engorged weals for a time, and then along came the cancer culminating in the big operation which brought substantial amounts of pain, inconvenience and distress in its wake.
The third consists of the six years and a bit from March 2018 to the present. That’s the grey period. All the special connections formed in the first period faded away, several new health issues – some connected and some not – added layers of concern and inconvenience, and my general physical condition is undergoing the gradual drip of degeneration commonly associated with advancing years. The one bright star to have risen in the sky is the fact that my relationship with my daughter and her family has strengthened a great deal. That’s very welcome of course, but the sky remains a dull and wintry grey.
It’s odd that these ‘eons’ should have fallen fairly neatly into six-yearly periods, so what’s next I wonder. More of the same? Time will tell. What I can say is that my awareness of these delineations has coloured my view of the posts I made at the various times, and that’s interesting.
For now, though, it’s time to start preparing dinner in a kitchen which is little warmer than a fridge. Back soon.
5 comments:
I was just showing my daughter pictures of the apartment where we used to live and thinking about how strange it is that my life now has so many eras. I think when you're young there's the illusion that you were born in the Present and that's where you're going to live your life. Now I feel like I was born in the Pleistocene, grew up in the Jurassic, went to college around the time of Ancient Rome, lived through the lamest version of 28 Days Later, and am now living in a combination of the most tedious aspects of several dystopian futures.
The history of blogs is something that will be interesting to revisit when someone feels like writing about it. There really was a golden age when people seemed to actually read things on the internet. Now everything's boiled down to 5-second reels. It's kind of comforting to think that you are still "here," making wry commentary on everything from the quirks of the neighbors to the meaning of life.
Thanks, Mad. One star still shining. Just off to bed but I had to wave back a.s.a.p. Of course I did. More soon.
The main reason I’m still ‘here’, Mad, is because I have nothing to do with the more prolific excrescences of social media. I’m tolerant of YouTube because it offers some good stuff if you’re selective, but at the same time I have neither the inclination to present my visage to the world in general or spend money on expensive video equipment. Consequently, if I want to talk it has to be through the written word. And then there’s the fact that there’s little else I want to do anyway. Apathy is the prevailing state these days.
It was good to hear from you, though. I always wanted a kid sister who was cleverer than me and you just about fit the bill. And when I die, and if my consciousness persists as I suspect it will, and if I’m able to range far and wide in a timeless and non-spatial environment, I’ll pay you a visit. Don’t worry about the fridge magnets, though. I wouldn’t scare your daughter for all the water in the River Styx.
I'm sure you're aware that Houdini and his wife made that agreement and that she was disappointed. You'll have to come up with a better way of fording the Styx than he did.
P.S. Don't scare the other daughter either.
The first thing I found notable about this was the fact that given your abiding scepticism the last sentence is irrational, which is most untypical of you. But of course it isn’t; its real intent is to convey the information that you have two chicks under your wing, not one. (I think your Ma might have told me, but my memory is going the same way as the rest of what used to be me and I honestly don’t remember.) In any event, splendid. I hope you won’t mind too much if I consider myself an honourable uncle-in-absentia (only definitely not a cool one; no energy, imagination, or adventurous spirit left.)
And incidentally, I suspect Houdini’s error was that he was too obsessed with finding a rope instead of learning The Way. I doubt ropes have much currency over there. Time will tell.
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