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Monthly Archives: September 2005

but not any more..

I called this blog ‘But I’m beautiful’ after a line in Muriel’s Wedding where her stupid tart of a fake friend stands on the pavement while Muriel and her real best mate drive off into the sunset.  This stupid blonde shouts out after them indignantly ‘But I’m beautiful!’.  Ie you can’t leave me and choose her, I’m gorgeous!  I was trying to be ironic. I’m not beautiful.

Any way now I think I should call this blog ‘But I’m not so beautiful as I was!’ and make it a blog about getting older.  Which is something nobody knows anything about before they’re about 35, because they can’t imagine looking into the mirror and seeing lines and bags and saggy bits. 

Recently I’ve started doing this a bit – guess more so since Mr Executive ratted off.  My current lover is 3 years younger than me and black, so doesn’t show his age at all.  Not long ago he asked me, IF he asked me to marry him, would I say yes.  Which is not the same as asking me to marry him. So I said I wasn’t sure – because I wasn’t sure. Anyway the idea’s grown on me, not exactly of marrying, but of him.  Something he said about wanting to do more volunteer work with old people, which made me think, maybe this man is worth loving  And I’ve got fond of him.

So now I’m feeling insecure and like he might change his mind and not want me after all, because every time I look in the damn mirror my face looks more and more haggard! I used to be able to attract as many men as I needed to get by – now I’m starting not to even attract myself. If I stop finding myself sexy – if I start thinking ‘how could you be making love to this old bag’ and wanting to turn the light out – then the fun’ll go out of sex. 

That’s the thing about being shallow, you get worried about these things.

not really

Writing a book is not easy. It’s the sort of thing everyone wants to do, because you don’t in theory need anything except the ability to actually put words on paper or the screen or whatever. Anything else is optional – imagination, style, all that kind of thing. On the other hand carrying a plot is hard. Maybe if it’s hard to think of anything to write about, you shouldn’t write at all, because you obviously have nothing to say.  Have been reading Gustave Flaubert ‘A Sentimental Education’ mainly because I have nothing to read and I thought I’d add to my education.  This guy takes about ten times as long to make a point as necessary.  The point is a young man’s love for an older woman, which eventually seems to wear off when her hair goes white.  Let that be a warning to anyone considering not dyeing their hair.  Most books are a lot longer than they need to be.  I hate long books and I’m not going to write one.

Why do people write blogs?  Some to stay in touch with their friends, like a kind of online party-call, obviously.  Some because they think the world ought to hear their thoughts.  But there are too many people in the world for that.  Some people want to share what they did each day, even if they didn’t do anything, even if they just went to the shops and bought some bread.  Have we got some urge to connect and be recognised, that isn’t being met in daily life. Or maybe mass communications has made us all think we deserve some exposure.