Work, wedding plans, physiotherapy, a funeral, the furry monster formerly known as Minette, evening walks… Romania… baptism.. home… Belgium… home… London… home. Interspersed and accompanied by Kurkhov, Kundera, Bukowski and Abbott along with lessons on the fall of the Soviet Union and 1989′s Revolutions, flying bombers then fighters for Germany in WW2, and some more Romanian poetry. Soundtracked by Pearl Jam’s 20th anniversary offerings, Godspeed and related projects, new albums from REM and the Foos, Mogwai, a lot of Bob Dylan, some Built to Spill and, recently Joe Strummer. More films than I can remember but the memory retains the stand-outs like Inception, Scott Pilgrim, The Men Who Stare at Goats and Paul. There was the introduction and addiction to, followed by the disappointment and frustration at the ridiculous end of Twin Peaks and seeing the American Office through to the end of Series 4. All of this accompanied, as always (and for which I am always grateful and stupidly lucky) by Linda.
I’m amused (though not as to how it highlights how little I’ve bothered attempting to update this) by the fact that this post will share a page with an image of Mac Cat because she’s no longer the tiny little thing that could fit under said Apple. Indeed, she barely fits in my suitcase:
For now…
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July 10, 2011 at 9:02 am
rosbeefs
Why don’t you tell your readers how you managed to hurt your Linda, that this blog used to be all about as well, with your cynisism and with your online fantasms with another woman? Why not tell them that your cynical dar state of minde has never left you and you dragged into filth something that everyone, including she, considered to be pure? Why not tell them that you are struggling very much not to give in to your “dark passenger” and that LInda has lost it too, because even if she thought she dragged you out of misery she feels really powerless right now, out of control and doesn’t know when things went into such a downwards spiral nor why…