Today’s been a strange one. I’ve been sort of living inside a story. Sometimes I wish I could spend all my time doing this, like if the Take On Me video was somehow true, only you could choose your story before you got into it, and getting out was as simple as just thinking: home. There was even a story inside the story, and I was just sitting there, in my room but also in this other place. And I kept just thinking of words and more words, and I wished for some i-thing that could send them straight to my computer rather than me having to type them all. And that i-thing probably does exist, but it is only available in Japan and costs nearly a million pounds. I don’t think I will ever have one.
I’ve just had the feeling all day that I’m somehow in two places. I usually get it when I’m on the bus to work. My head feels like it’s in a kind of syrup, and I want the journey to go on forever. I want never to arrive.
When we were little, my sister and I lived in a cave in Mexico for years. It was a big cave, and there was a lot to do - we swam, we danced, we partied. But the cave was also her bedroom, denned up to the max with blankets and fairy lights and up-turned chairs. Existing in two places at once was not a problem then. And I think a lot of that is because we didn’t analyse any of it, we just took it for granted. So that is what I am going to try to do more of, to see if it makes me any less fuzzy when I’m next in two different places at the same time.