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PARADISE POSTPONED

I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft
We have constructed pyramids in honour of our escaping...

So opined the Lizard King himself, in one of his weed-induced attempts at shamanistic incoherence, shortly before spinning around the stage wailing and flashing local bobbies, no doubt. But I dig his meaning, for once. My blog is a thin raft and the fact is, since I launched myself into my auto-induced sabbatical, I've found that I miss my friends (I hope I can call you friends) that have gathered here. The bit about the pyramids we can ignore.

I awake wondering if Gyppo Byard is going to reveal more about his father, the left-handed engineer. I pine for more about life as a nimble ex-stutterer in Romania, I wonder what Mrs Pouncer is chattering on about now, I'm eager to keep up with the Boyos, as part of their one- / two-handed readership. Special Brewman's series entitled Bums I Have Known (sadly/fortunately using the American meaning of the word), gets me up at the crack of dawn, to name but a scattering. Essentially, I've started something I can't finish, to quote The Smiths.

I do this often, make dramatic attempts to motivate myself into becoming something other, before realising that I was being a tired and emotional girl. My blog is no block to a new career, let's face it. Another interesting aspect is that my readership actually went up after my dramatic withdrawal from public life. There's a lesson to be learned there.

So my sabbatical was nice while it lasted, but I now plan to combine real life with my virtual one - after all, I did do a course called Adminstração do Tempo, shortly before I was fired from my job at the metallurgical factory. Maybe if I'd just paid a little more attention...

Comments

Anonymous said…
You can't spend all your time job hunting - or even paying attention.
4 August 2008 at 13:59
M C Ward said…
You're so right, Rotus - life's too short alright.
4 August 2008 at 14:50
Gadjo Dilo said…
I feel you can us friends, MC. I'd suggest that we all (especially Mrs Pouncer) get together in some bar on neutral ground - Switzerland's quite neutral, I've heard - but fear that this idea would be laughed to the echo.

I once paid good money for a bootleg recording of The Lizard King and Jimi Hendrix - it's quite the most incoherent thing you can imagine.
4 August 2008 at 15:40
M C Ward said…
Thanks Gadjo. About the possible meeting, I just fear that Mrs Pouncer will turn out to be a lonely Scottish ex-boxer called Frankie. We may never get rid of him/her.

Switzerland would be nice, though. Somewhere deep in the mountains away from the Swiss, ideally.
5 August 2008 at 09:35
No Good Boyo said…
Somewhere deep in the mountains away from the Swiss, ideally.

Wales! We ffyc and eat those cuckoo-clock losers.

Ha ha, welcome back to Blogworth-on-Spent, MC - you'll never leave!

It's a wise return, as speculation about Gadjo's means of communication with humans and the guiding spirit of L King are just what you need to make job hunting and ordinary people tolerable.

Mrs Boyo thinks we are emanations of one another, but why is that a bad thing?
5 August 2008 at 11:16
M C Ward said…
Mrs Boyo thinks we are emanations of one another, but why is that a bad thing?

I sometimes wonder if I am, in fact, computer-generated. Then I soil myself in drunken irreverence and disprove my own theory.

Oh yes, these are the best of days!
5 August 2008 at 11:20
Gadjo Dilo said…
soil myself in drunken irreverence is also what I've just done as I've been in Little-Blighty-on-the-Down these last few days and I find it hard to take this place seriously any more. Mrs Dilo (who left on the mule train this morning) also required an extra glass of ginger wine per evening.

(Apologies for leaving out vital word per sentence recently).
6 August 2008 at 16:23
M C Ward said…
Sorry to hear you're less than chipper, Gadjo. Being away from The Islands is tough, I must agree. Taking one's adopted country seriously is a big mistake, I feel.
7 August 2008 at 15:16
Mrs Pouncer said…
I have just read this, and I am less than thrilled. As many will attest, I am very far from Scottish, being the true rose of the Thames Valley, lissome, lithe and loaded. In all senses. I am just back from a Thalassotherapie insitute on the Atlantic coast, near St Nazaire, but this weekend I was closeted, marooned even, in a very unusual spa. Strenuous exercise was the order of the day, contortions actually, and a series of unorthodox injections (three times a day). As a result, I am invigorated, but unsettled.
Gadjo is probably having palpitations at the thought of meeting me in October in ... oh the place that beings with B, can't remember ... where Mr Pouncer is to present a prize. He is right to feel excited.
25 August 2008 at 16:44
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