Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Friday, October 15, 2010

6 October - Old & Fit

Turning into an old woman. First cackling at Hitchens article in Sun Times review about Martin Amis – couldn’t read this autobio as writing style seems very old fashioned and I don’t know…. don’t like biographies as I always think ‘You werent’ there, how do you now? ‘ or ‘So you asked 25 people who were there, but how do you know they told you the truth about what they really thought/ said/did and why’?

As for biographies, same thing. You know this blog is a sort of bio, yes, but it only holds approximately 10% of what happens daily to me, and it’s self censored in the sense that if I find myself thinking ‘Kill all rabbits and hares, yeah!’ well, I’d be a fool to admit it on the web and then have it come bite me on the ass later on. And also since made the huge mistake of telling a few mates early on of the url, I can't really write the truth of what I think of some of their sorry stories when to their face I was all sympathetic? I mean, it's worth losing friends over a published novel that uses them for characters but not over a useless blog. Darn. Oh and yes, even with the blog as aide memoire I remember not a lot of the past (I stare at old posts where I've used initials for people and I can't work out who the hell they are), so how come drug addled people who did not keep copious diaries (you Mr Richards), how the hell does he remember what happened. Though you could argue that he's only filling 500 pages out of 60 years so that's 8 pages per year on average, am sure maybe I can do that? I mean from the distance? "So, when I was 4 my sister was born - clearly I don't remember shit about it but must have been either pleased or pissed off, let's chose the latter for dramatic sake and invent an episode where I tipped her pram over, that's good anecdote, and so on".

Anyway, I then turn to a tabloid which says that it’s gossiped that both carla bruni and sarkozy are having extra marital affairs and a big laugh escapes my mouth on the crowded escalator. Clearly am mad, because when you're ageing sounds escape your mouth, though nobody turns, not like that time at the Abbey National when the noise of a fart escaped my bottom (no smell, just the noise as I shifted position in the queue) and these two 20 year olds started having fits of laughter and couldn’t stop and the more I stood still looking dead ahead pretending I knew nothing about it, the more they laughed). This is the beginning of the end. Really. Except that for this year, again, I get a totally clean bill of health from recent check up, all orifices and various organs tested though of course there are cancers or aneurysms that go undetected till they blow you off this earth.



Post a Comment

<< Home