So if I am waking it up, then what sort of sleep has it had?
Was it a siesta, taken on a summer afternoon, as the Spanish sun beats overhead, high in the noon sky, and the village slumbers behind drawn blinds with ice packs on their eyes and glasses of water by their bed?
Or was it a coma? Doctors milling about the bed, frowning and shaking their head. 'It's not going to make it,' their stethoscopes sighed. 'It has been having respiratory problems almost every since it was born. It was never long for this world.'
Or was it just a natural, genuine sleep, the kind which comes at the end of a day?
And now as it awakes, I realise it was a nap. It sits up from its bed, not quite refreshed nor fully rested. It has a slight headache, and that dizziness that comes from short sleeps. But it was a sufficient nap. And as it rises from bed it feels stronger again. It will take on the world!
This blog is alive. And now it's awake.
But it doesn't want to fall into old habits.
Old habits of newspaper trawling, issue picking, sensibility, humourless attempts at analysis, a grab at 'serious writing'.
Not yet.
It's summer, and for the blog, as it stretches and stumbles down the stairwell to get something to snack on, that means lazy stories and narratives full of images incomprehensible to anyone outside its mind's eye. It means a complete and utter relinquishment to cognitive indulgence, without thought or care for the ride of the reader.
'And why shouldn't I enjoy a lazy summer?' thought the blog, as it stepped outside into the dreamy, hazy heat.
1 comment:
i'm happy to read whatever you write, mr. gecko! good to have you back :)
Post a Comment