hey there hot things. i'm back. i am almost 90% recovered from my mystery illness of the past week, except for a dry, hacking cough that would be more befitting coming from a 70 year old, 2 pack-a-day transvestite crackwhore named "barb". sexy huh?
but enough about me, how you doin'? did you miss me?
now there has been a lot of talk around the blogosphere recently about giving up and moving on and saying goodbye to bloggie brick road. and as much as i hate to see any of my fave blogs come to an end, i am also aware that all good things have a timeline, and like sands through the hourglass...blah blah blah. well, i'm not packing it in, but i am rather lacking in the wit and funnies at the moment.
so in lieu of the snark and discombobulation usually present in nadstown, i give to you for the first time in nadstown - becasue i feel the time has come as we near our first birthday - THE TRUTH. and as some very wise men once wrote in a beautiful little hip hop ditty
"you can't hide from the truth, because the truth is all there is".when i first set up shop here in nadstown i had no idea what i was doing. i barely even knew what a blog was, let alone how to go about writing one. but like the night i lost my cherry i figured i'd just put on a brave face and pretend i knew exactly what i was doing. hopefully my acting skills have improved since then. and at least i haven't bled all over someone else's sheets this time. oops. sorry mrs ****.
my basic objective was to stay impersonal, and instead provide cutting social commentary and insightful political review to the masses. word of my glory would spread at home and away, with my blog eventually being translated into more languages than the holy book itself. people would come daily (sometimes bi-hourly) to absorb my brilliance, eventually electing me as their leader and enclosing a statue of my likeness in a glass case that would traverse the high seas for all eternity, owned by noone but loved by all.
but instead i just write random, often self-absorbed dribble every few days or so - in general neither cutting nor insightful - for a few faithful souls to read for whatever reason it is that they insist on coming back. and it has gotten harder and harder over time to remain outside the realm of the real. as you will have noticed if you've been here before, every so often i will hint at the truth, letting it slide off my fingers and onto the screen in tiny drops. but never the whole dose at the one time. no, never that.
and now its gotten too hard to remain aloof. i have embraced too many of you - some mentally, some physically, some a bit too physically - to play it cool anymore. because now when i don't blog for awhile, my silence seems to speak louder than my long-winded sentences. and on that note, thanks to all my beloveds for the emails, visits, phone calls and flowers. right back at you all. with cream on top.
*deep breath*
when my dad died a short time ago, i went numb. i had flown home over an ocean of tears from a faraway land when it became clear that both his mind and mortality were in question. i spent several months watching his mind be raped and his body destroyed by an unforgiving illness that someone so young should never have contracted. and when he left my world, after crying hourly daily for his suffering, i had nothing left to give. glass half empty? mine was drained clean.
so i took myself back to my overseas lodgings to try and heal my heart and erase the horrible images of his final hell from my otherwise empty head. and although i did a pretty good job of convincing myself that i was indeed on the mend, it didn't really work. something about the demons following you wherever you go. but i at least managed to evade those demons long enough to do a bit of travelling and smile on more than 3 occasions.
until i got
that email.
"phone home urgently" it said. in that moment the numbness left, adrenalin taking its place. i found a public telephone (not an easy feat at 11pm in a little town on lake titticaca, peru) and made like e.t. this time it was my mum's mortality being held to ransom. before that phone call, the words "emergency mastectomy" had no meaning to me. but now they haunt my dreams.
i was afraid i wouldn't make it home in time for her to wake up from her anaesthetic slumber. but luckily i threw such an impressive bilingual tantrum at the qantas desk of the aeropuerto de lima that i was on the first flight back to sydney. and i haven't left the country since.
and now she's in hospital again. again again again.
i have said it before and i'll repeat it now so we're clear, cancer is an evil, determined little bastard. like the colonial empires of the eighteenth century (can you tell i'm back at uni? can you? can you?) it won't rest until it has conquered all the territory it can possibly reach. but in this case it journeys on a sea of blood.
fuck me dead! bad metaphor much? it must be bedtime.
so anyway, if anyone is still reading this, cause fuck knows i would have stopped about 86 paragraphs ago if i were you, this is something i needed to do. that's all. and now its done. and so now we can move on from the awkward silence and i can go back to being the ill-informed jizzwitch that you love, and you can go back to being my bitch.
goodbye forever. or at least until tomorrow.
xox
