That’s it Thing, lend a hand.

I’m ignoring my writerly responsibilities. I don’t care. I’m on holiday. Which is tough. Holidays in general are tough. They’re like a little condensed version of life. It takes a little while to relax, to get used to the new circumstances. Then you start to enjoy yourself. Then you realise that if you want to do all the things you planned to, and see all the people you give a shit about, you better stop just lying around all day. The days are going past faster. In fact, you took to long thinking about what you were going to do, and now the days have gone. It’s over. Time to go back to work.

It’s potentially ruined the holiday existence, this realisation. Who wants to be left at the end of two weeks with nothing more than a clarification of how maddeningly short life is going to be? I’m going to go back to work next week thinking of how much I will not have done by the time I hop the twig if I don’t stop sleeping, or doing anything in fact, other than actually writing all the fucking stories that seem to have got out of their cages and are indulging in depravities inside my head.

And while we’re on the topic of how shit holidays are, it’s particularly difficult being on holiday “over East”. Yes, yes, I’ve had that little rant before, but this is not about the Nullarbor divide and the homogenous version of Eastern Australia that exists in the collective conscious of the great Westralian frontier towns. All I am really saying is that swimming in coastal waters where there’s no sharks, and drinking beers that cost $4.20 each, as opposed to $10.00+, is a fucking hard life. And having a circle of friends within a thousand kilometres is pretty crap as well. And it’s all made that much worse by having the Addams Family pinball machine sitting invitingly in the corner of my parent’s living room.

Hmm… now that I think about it, the pinball might have a lot to do with how quickly the days are going by. It’s probably got nothing to do with the regular trips to the beach, the golf course, the couch, the book, the fridge…

This is rather disturbing, actually. Given that I am on holiday, and the pinball is taking up a lot of time in which I really having nothing else pressing to do, and that I am still a long way from my goal of writing a thousand words a day, every day, and when I get home I will have a lot less free time, in which to squeeze a lot more than the current fuck all, and… and… that I recently bought an x-box which is sitting at home all shiny and new and waiting for me to make the love to…

Ah, but fuck it you know, I am stronger than that. And I am trying resolutions this new year, which I don’t really do as a general rule. One of said resolutions is the writing, to be conducted in similar fashion to the wrist shuffling of a crazed, caged monkey with a penchant for masturbation. So fuck the x-box sideways… and all that.

That’s really about all to be said here.

Oh, except about the sharks. I’ve done that rant before as well, but this is not about that either. In fact, Westralia gets a bad rap (not helped by me). Both NSW and QLD far outdo the west coast for shark attacks – and fatal ones. In fact QLD has nearly three times the number of shark related fatalities than WA does, and NSW is not far behind. Still, I feel safe in the water here, and I don’t really over there. Which I know is counter intuitive, but that’s the way it is. I’ve never been known for my propensity to change my opinions based on fact.



~ by Gethin A. Lynes on January 5th, 2012.

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