(Transcribed from notes in a slim notebook, with a bullock cart on it and a sunset. `Scens Of Nature' the cover says proudly, and the pages inside are unruled. Written at 8.30-9 pm last night, when I was on desk and had nothing to do, which might account for the garbled writing)
I don't think anyone who hasn't worked for a newspaper knows the absolutely soothing noise of no human voices, just many fingers going 'click-click-click' on many keyboards. It's a moment of such one-ness with the world, the fact that you and everyone else around you is on the same team---ackowledging it, knowing that the text that emerges from under the tips of your fingers is somehow telling a story that will provide information to someone, hearing the pauses in people's thought processes. Outside it's dark, many people who don't have your job are going home, or perhaps even going out to party, for it is Saturday night after all. But not you, because you're part of the media and you arrive and leave late and now during rush hour, you don't care because your fingers are going 'clackety-click'.
And then suddenly a phone will jangle and as if on cue the rest will start jangling too and the peace will be broken. And you go from being a cog in a machine that makes 'clackety-click' noises to being you again, realising the sore throat and watering eyes of a flu ignored, planning what you're going to do on the weekend. Your once-magic text is now scrutinised as you scroll through it, checking if the 5 W's and H are in place and you stretch and yawn and are suddenly very, very tired.
(end of notebook writing)
Aargh. That part about the flu? True story. Day-before-yesterday I got so buoyed up by the warm weather I went to work in a t-shirt and a jacket, therefore yesterday I felt like I was going to die. No seriously. You have not lived until you have experienced the excruciating discomfort that is fever rising and breaking. Fever rising means you shiver, feel very giddy and yearn for your bed with the red and brown velvet quilt. Fever breaking means cold sweats and your body feeling so disoriented by this whole cold/hot thing that you want to jump from the nearest available elevation.
Today I'm still feeling it, the words are very close to swimming in front of my eyes, but I want to be all okay for this evening when I'm going to finally see Black. This is probably the worst structured blog entry I have ever written, I'm looking through the sentences (TWICE I spelt "sentence" with two s's) and thinking 'Peh'.
This was going to be longer, I had planned it and everything, but my wrists are suddenly aching (How old do you have to be before arthritis and rheumatism sets in?) and so I'm going to go. If I die of this terrible wasting disease that's turning my young body into that of a 50-year-old, remember that I lurve you all. Indiscriminately. Even the horrible anonymous blogger who left mean comments. And I am going to update my Blogrolling links, but thanks nevertheless to all the new people who have linked to me. You're very kind and I will return the favour soonest, I promise.
*crawls away to die*