Whilst having my typical lunch (cottage cheese and apples) I was lazily looking at a magazine. Suddenly I noticed a familiar face from the past. Back in -92 we lived in the same lovely old house in a small, probably not all that lovely village. I was in an art course, he studied something creative. How often we were all so busy, sitting in the noisy kitchen, drinking cheap wine and drawing doodles on the tablecloth. I loved that old house and all the people living in it. I remembered the long spring afternoons when we idled under the old trees and dreamed about our future. How young, talented and immortal we were.
He is a writer now, but even after two published books and one noticeable writers' prize he still says he's a dilettant, not a writer. What modestness, he's like Samuel Beckett, I sighed, and at the same time felt that cosy feeling of nothingness building up. I wanted to be an artist, but became an arty secretary. Well, one who writes legal argreements in foreign language, edits books and writes press releases, but still a secretary.
I looked at the next page. A dark photo of a gloomy looking artist and the text saying Nick Cave changed his life. "I listened to Henry's Dream inside a drab dormitory."
Let me laugh. There's no snow in Finland. Even our most famous ski-jumper ever, Matti, makes paella in Spain.
I didn't want to upload the video-interview here, but you won't be missing anything, well, except that he was asked what is his favourite food and he replied potatoes and white wine, preferably without the potatoes. Anyway, I can't even drink any wine, because of all the medicine. And it's not even white outside, because there's still no snow.
I definitely need to be cheered up. I read from the glossy magazine that if you are bit down a little bit of vibration might help, so they suggested everyone should sit on a washing machine occasionally. I'd try that, but I have done it already, in the early 90s. My former housemate filmed it and the original got lost somewhere in Germany. Happily I wore a wig. Hmm, I might be more famous than I think I am, which might cheer me up a bit, but anyway talking about laundry, this is probably the oddest wahing label I have seen (well, at least a photo of a washing label, to be honest)
I admit I worked too much last week, well, I practically lived in the office and now I am ill. It doesn't make me feel any better that I finally can get some rest, because I'm in pain. I can't even spend my days at the computer, doing nothing like usually. If this lasts long enough I might not need the Facebook Rehab group after all. Hmm, I wonder if that group helps, because it's in Facebook? Well anyway, it didn't make me feel any better when I read the illness I have is common with young, chubby, hairy-bottomed men. Damn. Could someone cheer me up a bit?
Yes, I know. I promised to be a better blogger-commentwriter this year. Have you seen me around? Well, yep, neither have I. Instead of being with my virtual and more fleshy friends, I have overworked by writing boring agreements in the office. My family don't recognize me anymore. Tumbleweeds pass by my deserted blog. My Facebook friends send me invitations, which I keep ignoring. Friends... earlier I used to have just two kind of friends: friends and penpals. Now I have one close friend, bunch of workfriends, hobbyfriends, gooddayfriends, goodoldfriends, blogfriends, flickrfriends, facebookfriends... I guess in order to save time I have to start combining things.
I start announcing loudly (every hour) what I am doing and how I am feeling just at the moment. I draw lousy graffitis on my friends' walls. I send everyone letters saying "see what happens", but nothing happens. I start buying expensive drinks to persons who I have seen once in the beginning of the 90s. I ask seldom people on the street which colour and vegetable they are. I bite people when I feel like to be a vampire again. I troutslap and toiletpaper people at work.
Sleepy afternoon in a hectic office. Colleague walks nervously around the room.
Colleague: I don't want to go to the doctors alone. T Fox: Why? Colleague: Maybe she will say I will have only one day left. What shall I do then? T Fox: Oh dear, is it something serious? Colleague: I've got a flu. T Fox: [sigh] Colleague: Why wouldn't you come with me? T Fox: Me? Go with you to the doctors? Colleague: Yes. You could just sit there quietly. With your new lovely Barbapapa bag. I can say you always come with me wherever I go. T Fox: [sigh] Colleague: I could say you were the first prize in Bingo.
Last year, as always, I promised not to kill myself with chocolate. I am alive, but fatter. This year I am about to change my life. But how? Maybe I win in the lottery and buy a house. Or should I make a completely new career? Start studying something again? [googles] eBay University?