It’s WAR! Greens against plastic tassels!

I’ve been to a funeral, okay?  An old uncle who was a very nice man.

But a church service attached to conversion – and I can’t get along with that.

And rifts in the family that left me – without thought – saying how stupid these people were.

This is happening to me more, these days – I don’t plan it – I open my mouth – all sorts come out.

And people don’t expect it in me – I have always been so quiet – so push-able about – so . . .

Look over my own shoulder –

Wednesday 4 March 2020

Jean has been tonight.  I felt too tired for her visit, but it has turned out good – she saw what I meant about Yorick’s plastic tassel on top of the fence straight away, did not condemn me for having already put a couple of sprigs of ivy in the ground (inclusive of rooting powder) next to the fence, nor my plans (!) to let the Virginia Creeper – it belongs to the neighbour out the back of Godwin and Yorick’s – through.

I am even going to let it root in my garden – it did last year and I pulled it out – the plant is a thug and I’ll have to (!) watch it, and the ivy – but I can’t stand that tassel at all, and it’s time to plant up the fence – what they don’t like they can cut off – I can hardly start cutting their plastic tassel, tempting though the idea of that is.

I’ve ordered a delivery from Sainsbury’s for tomorrow – I haven’t done that for a long time, but I am exhausted – too much emotional trouble going on, and I might have this cold, or that might be part of my own myth.

I’m not-so-well anyway, and the best thing I can do is to slow right down and nurse myself before I nurse others, or accommodate others – which I have been doing.

Dee and . . . – out the back of us – I’m no longer keeping the Virginia Creeper from adorning their fence either, which I said I would do – they buy the fence, these people, and you with it.  I don’t know how I have fallen for this so much, but I have.

On three sides of us – fences that now belong to the neighbours, and each neighbour has thought they can do what they want through that.  It’s a new trend, I think, this buying-up of fences.

Mind you, B has been very ill, and I haven’t had time for much challenging of neighbours.

As far as Dee and . . . go, though – I was way too ready to fit in with their plans.  Where is my mind?

 

I lie there in bed.  I’m tired.  I’m too hot – I always have that, these days – but my mind is racing, and I have to get up to jot some down of what I am thinking.

I am not at peace with myself – far from it.

If I don’t manage this situation, I’m going to have very sore hips, as I have other nights, recently.

I can’t take any more medication just yet – ah, open the window for a while since I’m not sleeping but sitting in my chair –

I could go down and eat, but not yet – I’ve been eating like crazy and, whereas it is in my whatsits that I can eat as I want – really – I’m not that hungry yet.  Wait a while.  Some toast later on, maybe.

Yoga – I can only do so much – I have been doing a lot of it the last few nights when I haven’t been sleeping – but I don’t want to stretch myself to the point of destruction.

I could type for a while, catch up with some writing I have been doing – but I’ve done enough of that for today, also.

Go down – read the newspaper – I haven’t been out for a couple of days, haven’t bought new ones – I’ve been keeping up with Google News – mainly headlines.

I need a rest from it all.

My game – Luigi’s Mansion 3 – I’ve been sick of it for some time but not ready to move on yet.

I’m just plain tired.

And looking for myself and not finding myself.

And what Seth Godin says in his book – it is interesting but – I’m not a self-marketer – I haven’t time for all that.

And I don’t want to serve people – I think I’ve been doing enough of that already – quit the humility thing.

Adriene does a root chakra session and has attached ‘gratitude’ to it – not sure what she is making of that – her intention thing is okay – you just intend to – do head to knee, for instance – you’re nowhere near it but the idea of it is there.

Maybe she’s done something like that with gratitude – ah, I had to be grateful for something or other . . . at one time . . . – and now – I’m supposed to be grateful for all these fences people have put up around me.

Toast – and tea – but I’ll bring it up here.

 

Thursday 5 March 2020

Okay.  I’m in pretty much of a bad way – my back is killing me, and I still have a lot to do to get B organised with appointments.

I have worked out, though, that I really do need to take this one day at a time.

I have a delivery coming today from Sainsbury’s – this will be the third day that I will not have been out to shop.

Seth Godin – I like the way he talks.

 

I said I needed to nurse myself.

I’m not a nurse.

Nurturing is probably a better description of what I need to do.

Another thing I’ve discovered –

I’d put a couple of posts on the blog from what I wrote for NaNo – simplifying what I had for NaNo greatly – but I’ve looked at the notebook again this morning – well, I’ve looked at it a few times, and couldn’t make head nor tail of most of it – I was looking for parts that I could edit – it doesn’t work that way for me.

In what I did post, I missed out that the old woman had come from the mountains that were behind her when she was crossing the plain – where else could she have come from?

I’d missed out that authorial, as I’d come to see it, ‘stage-direction’ – ‘where else could she have come from?’

But I hadn’t looked at what I had called ‘Preface’, and which I will now, I think, call ‘Frontispiece’ – that led into this idea of the story opening up through the author in some way – I included in the first NaNo manuscript some paragraphs that had ‘leaked’ into autobiographical posts in – an earlier manifestation of my blog.

And – you have to, I think (and there was a time when I didn’t think this), start from the beginning – wherever your beginning happens to be – and work through from there.

In the past, I’ve tried to ‘patch in’ in the middle of scenes and so on – that I couldn’t do at the time – but the ‘patched-in’ parts never fitted properly.

And the quality of my writing changes over time.

I think, if I seem to be at a dead end with something, I shouldn’t leave it, go further on in the story, with the idea of going back to it – cut, instead.

This is where my thoughts are at the moment.

Before her, the last crowd was passing through the gates.

She was behind them all, so far behind as to be alone.

She needed to get through those gates before they closed for the night.

She limped ahead, leaning on her staff.

She was close to the gates but they were shutting.

And then they held.

A gate-guard, who she hardly saw, but who she heard – “Come on through, Mother.”

She stumbled at the entrance, but steadied herself, grasping the ebony of the held-open gate.

She skipped the last few feet as though she wasn’t one-hundred-and-three.

“No,” Isla said. “You need to write characters that are – not nice -“

“But I don’t want to . . . I want my characters to be . . . people that are liked . . .”

“What you’re really saying is that you don’t want readers to think you are capable of knowing there is badness in people!”

“Oh!  That’s not fair!  I’m only young.  I haven’t had time to meet bad people . . .”

“Yet!  Except – I don’t believe that for a minute!  What about Rob Roy at school?  He should have been called Robber Roy!  If he was in this workshop now . . .”

“Oh, he only borrowed my eraser that time . . .”

“And rubbed out all my homework so that Miss Gubbins thought I hadn’t done it!”

“Hmm.  But that wouldn’t happen these days, now that we’re using our darn phones for every single thing . . .

“I wouldn’t put it past Robber Roy to have figured that angle already!” said Isla.  “But, look, you can’t just create cosy characters when we’re working with titles like ‘Valkyrie’!”

“Oh – I never wanted to come here in the first place, but you made me!”

“That’s the spirit!  What would Valkyrie Valerie make someone like me do, if I was a warrior against Robber Roy in a battle?”

“Oh, you’re making things too difficult!

“Yes!  Now you’re getting it!  He makes things too difficult!  Valkyrie Valerie thinks I’m a bad lot!  Off with my head!  Or would that be Queen Guinevere?. . . the point is – how to avoid a weak ending?  Everything we do seems to lead to that . . .

I’ve gone into the blog, decided I would leave some ‘likes’ all over the place – play the game, in fact, in order to get some back –

I read something Marguerite had up there, got bored with it half way through – I don’t ‘like’ it.

Same with KeepInTouch’s post – they bring something up, and I either don’t care, or I think they are – basically – stupid.

Part of it is that I’m British, and American relationships – which people seem to write about so often – seem saccharine-sweet to me, sometimes – you get used to watching it on Netflix and through Hollywood films – but it isn’t real in a British sense – last time I looked most British relationships were healthier than that.

However, both of those – Marguerite and KeepInTouch – seem to have given up on me at the moment, and I don’t feel like giving anything back at all.

They both suck.

Someone else, though – TeachSpell – she only very rarely comes to my site these days, but I still left a ‘like’ on hers – I don’t always agree with what she says, but I appreciate the effort she puts in there – she is working with a relative’s writing – they might publish as a co-op.  Rather them than me, but still . . .

So, I suppose it depends on the person – KeepInTouch I really have not much in common with – I agree with so little of what she says – and Marguerite – she is too young for me, as it turns out (that isn’t it, either – I read other young people’s blogs – people much younger than I am – and those are okay) – oh, Marguerite said she was going to do life-story, which I would have been interested in, but she hasn’t . . . sick of waiting.

An old woman in a long cloak; she leans on a staff.

Across the deserted landscape, she approaches twin town gates, mountains her backdrop.

Her eyes are hidden within a soft, fluted hood, but they glare out.

No one can see, but she can.

She tapped into a vein of anger, one that had been bled many times over the past months.

She closed her eyes within the hood, still walking, meditated for a few moments on that hard knot.

What had been in her mind dissipated as vapour over that dust.

What is it that I am looking for in the blogging scene?

I am circumspect in what I say.  This is for a start.

I am looking for writing – not so much ‘good blogs’ as good writing.

It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It needs to be as good as someone can make it.

It doesn’t matter – I was going to say ‘about its genre’, but I don’t like most romance.  I have read some romances that are not genre.  I have read romantic scenes within writing that is not genre.  I have read some romances that are genre that I recognise as good writing.  But I don’t easily choose ‘romance’.

I have been trying to say this for a long time.

I don’t want chat-sites.

I don’t want Facebook take-offs.