Wednesday 24 January 2001

Pic of the day: Just a bit tired.

Low battery

It's one month since Christmas ... And you know what? It feels like a QUARTER OF A YEAR! I can't wrap my mind around that it's just one tiny little month ago! Well, I can sort of recognize the fact that I've only got one paycheck since, but apart from that? No. Thank the Light, it seems time has slowed down again. I could need that.

I always need time, but I never do much with it.

***

The last couple days I've had some "inspiration" to write fiction again. Not the half (or not even half) finished story from last time, but the new one, tentatively named Splendor. As I said on Monday, it's vaguely inspired (or rather booted into being) by the initial premise of the online comic Acid Reflux. However, as can be expected, it develops quite differently. Acid Reflux is almost constantly funny. Splendor is sprinkled with the subtle Itland humor (and we know how subtle that can be) but it won't keep you laughing, unless you laugh mercilessly at the pretentiousness of the poor author.

Like virtually all my fiction for years and years, it really deals with the great questions in life: What is the difference between reality and dream / fantasy / virtual reality, and how do you know one from another? How do you balance being just a human and at the same time more than human? And why can't young boys get any at the only age in life where that's the only thing on their mind?

OK, despite all of this, it really is very different from Acid Reflux. :) You have to trust me on this, because I'm not ready to publish it. I've written lots of stuff in the past that I'm grateful for having kept to myself, and some which I still haven't made up my mind about after years and years. How can I be so carelessly open about my life and so shy about my fiction?

***

I feel weak today. Weaker than usual, that is, and I'm thinking of the body this time. I'm not exactly quaking, but I feel "low battery". I'm sure you know that feeling. Hopefully I'm just tired ... at the bus home from work I willed my mind empty as we left town (it was full of fiction) and decided to sleep. (Having the World in 2001 from The Economist did not hurt either.) I woke up when the bus had actually stopped at its last stop, which luckily happens to be the closest I come to home. So I guess I just may be a little bit tired. Usually I wake up a few stops before.

Speaking of bus, you know the bus paradox: If you're on time, the bus is late; if you're late, the bus is on time. Sometimes it would seem that one of the few pleasures in a bus driver's life is driving right in front of your nose. (Hey, I know exactly how they feel. Ever worked in some service job and seen the snotty customers that squeeze in a few seconds before closing time?)

Since my mind had been filled with strange thoughts, I had not kept an eye on the watch, and was a little late. The bus was there, of course, ready to go. I walked as fast as I could with any kind of dignity (and without the risk of slipping) but as I came closer to the bus, I saw that I would be several seconds too late. And you know what that means. But just then, I heard small feet running behind me. A cute child ran past me and into the bus, and the bus driver had the good grace to not try to race away from that. And before he got to close the door, I slinked in behind the child and put my card in the pay slot. You should have seen the eyes he gave me, but there was nothing he could do. Heh.

Ah, the small pleasures in life. Brushing my teeth in the morning. Catching the bus. Leaving work for the day. Eating a small meal of Italian food. Writing a story I'd like to read myself. Getting e-mail from a friend. Life is good! So far, it's the best thing I can remember.