Ok,
so writing a blog post whilst under the influence of cheap white wine
and expensive naval rum is perhaps not the best idea, and choosing to
write about someone of personal interest in that state of drunkenness
is probably even stupider. I am not a man easily ashamed or made to
feel awkward, I am not big on regrets or fumbling wildly to take
something back. However, had the blog post in question been read by
its muse – and it could well have been, she’s got the link –
there would have been an unavoidable level of tension, uneasiness and
feeling a bit silly. The fact that this would have been within the
workplace would only have compounded the effect. So why not delete
it? That was the question most asked. Why not get rid of it and
pretend it never happened? That would sort it out.
I suppose it was a valid thought process, something removable had the potential to cause problems, so remove it. Thing is, I make it hard enough to maintain this catalogue of ramblings, without consciously censoring my actions. The very purpose of this very blog is to house the honest, open mutterings of its author and anyone else who wants to get involved, so to limit the scope of its contents seems a bit bloody silly. At its very best, I like to think that this collection of nonsense is entertaining and if I start cutting out the embarrassing, potentially embarrassing or life-alteringly awkward stuff it’s just going to be a list of boring facts, and that would be rubbish. As well as that, the slight distance and detachment from reality that writing on the Internet provides allows one to say things they’d like to in their delicate, fleshy actual lives, but can’t, won’t or daren’t. The possibility that these things might get back to their inspiration is a tantalising bonus.
On
top of these previous, and though I say so myself, excellent points,
I’m also somewhat proud of the piece in question. It’s eloquent,
passionate, well structured and says everything I wanted it to, which
is a lot more than I manage when sober, be it on this blog or in the
day to day with my mouth. There wasn’t anything in it that could
cause offence or be desperately misinterpreted. There was no hint of
anger, nor a drop of self righteous wallowing. I think it was pretty
good. Obviously I didn’t show it to she who is known only as Miss
Lovely – I’m not an idiot. For though proud, I am also aware of
how actual, physical, tangible life works, or doesn’t, and thusly I
instead woke up the morning after and went, “ooooh. That could
cause issues”. And then I went about my business as usual. True, I
have had a week off blogging, partly due to a creeping sense that
soon bad things will happen. True, the increasing number of people
who tell me they have read it does slightly bother. True, the
internal conflict over whether it would be better for Miss Lovely
never to see it, or to see it soon with whatever comes with that
rages within. But I’m only human.
The
week following the inebriated keyboard hammering has provided events
that suggest I should probably give up on any ideas of Lovely
courting. Not apocalyptic events, or even really clear indications to
any end. Just suggestions that allow my mind to tread melancholy
paths toward Not To Be. Not that that’ll put me off, naturally.
Sure, I’ll back off for a while, maybe a couple of weeks. But I’ll
be back. I find the best way to make sure you know for certain is to
bombard your quarry with constant attention and perpetual offers of
entertainment and affection, until eventually they’re forced to
spell things out in very loud block capitals, written in primary
colours. With crayons. Now isn’t the time for that though, now is a
quiet time. The time before the storm, and if film has taught me
anything it’s that after a storm there is sunshine, strength of
bond and soaring,soul lifting instrumental music.
On
the other hand, if the news is to be believed there is also a chance
of massive casualties and widespread devastation. Either way I’ll
let you know and I’ll try to make it at least entertaining.
Watch
this space.
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