chocolate chip Biscuits
I spent the last days of Autumn walking amongst gravestones in sunlight and cloud and wind. My favourite kind of gravestones are old and crumbling. I like imagining the lives of the names I read out loud. What they were like. How often they were happy and how often they felt overwhelmed and sad enough to cry. L says that its quite amazing to think that the people here who are dead are still getting thier names and said out loud by people who never knew or met them. Discussion turns to what wouyld be written on our own tomb stones and what offerings or little treats we would bring each other should one of us die before the other.
I promise to bring danishes and coffee if he promises to bring me doughnuts and nippys iced chocolate drinks. A sculpture of any books i got published while alive would be cool. This is all imaginary and wandering chit chat as it would cost way to much to be buried in the North Carlton Cemetary.
I would of course want something about how unforgettable I am to be written on my tombstone. Something like Once seen never forgotten or she was as furious as she was short and ever the earnest friend. I have enjoyed walking around graveyards ever since the first time my mother took me to one in the middle of nowhere. It was so quiet all you could hear was the wind through trees and birds singing. My Mother told us she wanted to be buried somewhere nice and wuiet like where we were right then and there. I was 6 years old.
The last social engagement I had before Corona lock down and self isolating, was at a dinner at a friends house. I had just got the news that the melbopurne comedy festival had been cancelled and in addition my first ever appearance in such a festival had been cancelled. I did not take it on the chin. Even though it was the right decision. I am on immune suppressant medication and already get sick easy and for longer than other people. I was still blind sided with dissapointment grief to the point of being unable to do anything except rewatch television series that were popular when I was young. Series that did not age well in regards with certain brands of humour. I order books from local bookstores via the internet. I order a red boilersuit that arrives only to prove to be way to big for me. I buy skincare products and order my fav iced chocolate drink in bulk. Getting packages delivered briefly fills the void and sparks joy.
I try to write every day but fail. I start drawing pictures and it helps to distract me from the horrors of social media for a increments of time. There are people doing far better than I. Taking the disappointment and uncertainty and moving forward creatively regardless. They are not laying on the couch on Saturday night listening to the 1985 original London cast recording of Le Miserables and crying. I do not reach out to friends because one afternoon i pluck up courage and try four different friends that dont answer the calls and this makes me so uncomfortable and feel so rejected that cannot stomach trying that again. When a friend does eventually call I don’t answer.
I avoid online events and zoom hangouts because it stresses me out and causes my throat to close up with horror. I hate how my face looks and i would rather look ugly and simply not have to see it reflected back at me while I am trying to look at my friend’s face. It is easier to sit alone while my partner is at work and read the days away.
Yesterday I walked to a friends place and chatted to them from a safe distance. I also walked home afterwards. My step count was over ten thousand steps at the end of that for the first time in ages and my legs felt wobbly. I was so tired that all I could do for the rest of the day was watch netflix and eat dinner. I also ate four of the chocolate chip biscuits L made last night.