Friday night

Its Friday night – or rather, Saturday morning now – and you find me perched in bed with a fire tablet propped on my legs. My feet are not gripping the bed sheet – so keep sliding away from me. Who knew writing in bed would be so precarious?


Where did the evening go? Where did the week go? It feels like I haven’t seen anybody or talked to anybody outside of my small circle at work all week.

I’m becoming a hermit.

Tomorrow I will busy myself clearing rubbish from the garden while my other half attends a movie awards event with a friend. She’s a scriptwriter – the friend – and all sorts of talented. She started writing during the pandemic, and fell in love with it. I’m so proud for her – and of course very biased indeed.

In other news, the little YouTube channel that could has raced through 14,000 subscribers this week. I’m not quite sure what to make of it all really. Its now attracting the attention of marketers, which is quite amusing I suppose. They seem to think the only reason anybody posts anything online is to make money. They really don’t understand that for me it’s all about the connection with people.

I’m such a paradox sometimes. While happy in my own company, if left to my own devices I invariably gravitate towards others – to help, encourage, support and involve them in whatever it is they’re doing.

Of course sometimes I feel somewhat forgotten or ignored – but I suppose that’s the same for most people. Hell- there are often times when I wish for no more than not to be noticed. None of it makes any sense.

I’m getting tired. Writing on the tablet is awkward…

Good night oh mighty internet of a million voices. I’ll listen for your whispers.

One reply on “Friday night”

I’m not sure if it’s post-pandemic or age. I’m not eager for social interaction. I have enough, here on the farm. Lots of work and my sweetie to do it with. But it could be that the internet and the connections I have there (email, and to a lesser extent social media) have filled the void. I’m reminded of all those 19th Century folk whose lives were separated by time and space and who filled the emptiness with correspondence.


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