Monday, October 20, 2008

Soon come.

It's all about me. Me me me.

I'm trying to wind down from work, given the fact that I walked out of Setanta Towers roughly 46 minutes ago. It's 00:18 now and I'm back in there at ten in the morning.

I don't understand how I need to wind down, though. My last hour in there was spent picking my nose, bouncing the little spongy basketball off the window, and writing a snooker report. Five very sensible paragraphs on John Higgins beating Ryan Day in the London Something Watches Glasgow Grand Prix Final Rematch The Third Yarrump.

"The trick is in convincing the reader you have slightest fucking clue who Ryan Day is."

Anyway, it's not like I'm overloaded on adrenalin having played to 535 million people at Knobworth (sic). I'm just restless and interesting, trying to figure out what that weird moment was earlier on. A strange feeling came over me as I walked up Hawkins Street and saw the rain sheeting down on the Screen cinema, with the sun as background.

A thought came to me then, a moment of literary largesse, and I can't get it back.

But it soon come.

4 comments:

Kath Lockett said...

I have to ask, Radge - Setanta Towers - what the hell is that? I assume, hopefully correctly, that it's not a Portugese time share for mentally challenged adult workers with special needs?

Radge said...

It sometimes feels that way, Kath, but in reality it's just my work place. I work for a company called Setanta, and we're on the fourth floor up. Not quite a tower but you get my meaning.

Sometimes I dream about being in a Portuguese time share for mentally... what you said...

Susan said...

Those moments seem to come when we're least prepared to seize them and fix them down somehow. I hope it comes back for you.

I suggest taking a bath when very tired, without any notebook or pen in the whole house (or go for a long walk without any notebook) ...it will come THEN.

hope said...

Susan's right! My "best" ideas always seem to come [a] when I'm driving to work through the country and can't stop to make notes [b] first thing in the morning in a tub filled with hot water. I don't know if it's that segue between sleep and squeaky clean that does it or just the quiet of the morning.

It'll come back. The good stuff always does.