Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney
rozk

I'm in pieces, bits and pieces

There are so many things I need to say and I could spend days trying to work out an appropriate way of saying them. So, I guess, it is time for a bunch of alphabetical entries again.

Andy is an old friend - I met him in 1969 and in the next few weeks, or possibly days, he may be dead from a brain tumour. I hope I get to see him again before that, but the chances are that I won't simply because he is already too sick and drugged most days for visitors or phone conversations. We have talked a lot over the past few months, but there is always that odd insincerity that comes from finding right words for last times. If I get to go over, I will take a White Stripes album with me - he is a Blues enthusiast and music we share is probably the best thing for right now. If I seem a little preoccupied at times, this is why - he is my eighth really close friend and contemporary to die in the last six years. Which is one of the things that being middle-aged is about.

Buffy has been a part of my life for so long that it is going to be interesting not having it around. If Angel is not reviewed, I won't be rushing into another fandom - the fandom I thought I had set up for me as a bolthole disappeared when Farscape was cancelled. I have the second edition of the Buffy book to finish and after that, who knows?

Chatting on line is one of the most seductive of vices - you spend so much time doing it and sometimes you get to say important and crucial things either intellectually or in terms of taking care of people. Yet it is also a way of not getting on with work.

Dancing is one of the things I miss.
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There are so many things I need to say and I could spend days trying to work out an appropriate way of saying them. So, I guess, it is time for a bunch of alphabetical entries again.

Andy is an old friend - I met him in 1969 and in the next few weeks, or possibly days, he may be dead from a brain tumour. I hope I get to see him again before that, but the chances are that I won't simply because he is already too sick and drugged most days for visitors or phone conversations. We have talked a lot over the past few months, but there is always that odd insincerity that comes from finding right words for last times. If I get to go over, I will take a White Stripes album with me - he is a Blues enthusiast and music we share is probably the best thing for right now. If I seem a little preoccupied at times, this is why - he is my eighth really close friend and contemporary to die in the last six years. Which is one of the things that being middle-aged is about.

Buffy has been a part of my life for so long that it is going to be interesting not having it around. If Angel is not reviewed, I won't be rushing into another fandom - the fandom I thought I had set up for me as a bolthole disappeared when Farscape was cancelled. I have the second edition of the Buffy book to finish and after that, who knows?

Chatting on line is one of the most seductive of vices - you spend so much time doing it and sometimes you get to say important and crucial things either intellectually or in terms of taking care of people. Yet it is also a way of not getting on with work.

Dancing is one of the things I miss. <lj-user='jennyo'> wrote well the other day about its role in her life, and that ideal time a few years ago when she, <lj-user='katemonkey'> and <lj-user='spacetart'> were in New Orleans and had perpetual boogyshoes on. Every so often there is a British UCSL meet and that sometimes means I get dragged off to clubs by the gang, but the trouble is that I lost the habit and cannot breathe for the cigarette smoke. And the thing about middle age is that your knees go...I need to go dancing more often if I am going to do it at all, and at least the music is a bit better these days. Old fartism is also a problem.

Etiquette is one of those things too - every so often I find myself wanting to comment on the ljs of people I don't actually know and find myself being a hungup uptight Brit who is worried about not having been introduced...Which is an odd combination with a reasonable level of frankness in my own journal.

France - I need to go there again soon. That's all.

George W. Bush is a bad man. This is not a comment about his foreign policy inasmuch as it exists rather than being a battleground between different interest groups in his cabinet. It is a remark about the way he joked when signing the death warrant of a woman who had had a religious conversion in jail. Specifically, he doubted her sincerity, which, in a man who expects us to believe in his own sincere conversion from the drugged up drunk of earlier days, is a bit rich. He is supposedly a Christian, and, while I am opposed to the death penalty, I can understand that he might sincerely believe in it as a grave issue of state policy. What I cannot believe in is that it is ever to be the subject of jokes.

Hayfever is with us and medication for it, which means odd drowsiness but fewer inexplicable rashes when my body decides to react badly to something.

Iraq - and one of the most awful aspects of the situation is that we are now in a position where the Geneva conventions appear to mandate the invading powers to hang around and restore order and normal service in order to prevent chaos. By the way, should there not be a peace conference at the end of wars, or is that something that only applies when all the participants are white, or if the US loses?

Jokes - I don't seem to hear many anymore. Have people stopped making them up? Is this one of the things that the internet has overloaded - do people just not tell jokes anymore because they fear that people will think they got them off the internet?

More of this next time I get stuck - I need to go and read a novel about an Australian town struck by a jet liner and a book about inappropriate sexual behaviour by schoolteachers, write a report on one and a review of the other, do my Time Out Fantasy column and then get back to work on the two books I am having productivity crises on. Also, I need to wash clothes and drink more coffee and go for a power walk and buy the paper and be in for a messenger.

And play music loudly in the hope of staying alert.
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