The ironic thing about Narcissism, it occurs to me, is that if Narcissus was loved by more people he would probably not have been able to sit, staring into a puddle at his own reflection until he dropped dead. No; his friends would have wondered where he got to.
“Where have you been?” is a question I often wish more people would ask me, but when yelling into the next room is all that’s necessary to let all your friends know where you are, it’s rarely a question that pops up. However, in case anyone is wondering, I have been in Stockholm. I am still in Stockholm. By the time you read this, I will have been living in Sweden for 2 months. I know this because by the time I wrote this I had been in living in Sweden for 2 months. Such is my motivation for writing blog posts at the moment.
I almost wrote a blog post last month, whilst waiting for Amki at Stockholm University, but when you sit writing with a fountain pen, on actual paper, amid students at a large university, people look at you as though you should be wearing a loincloth and picking sabre-toothed tiger out of your teeth with a flint axe. I also almost wrote a blog post on the day before I left Lincoln, explaining about the many addresses I have had, and how this apartment in Stockholm is my 27th… but nothing came of that, for reasons I will not go into right now, so Lincoln never got a tearful goodbye. Then I nearly wrote a blog post after attending Richard’s wedding a couple of weeks ago (Oh… by the way… Richard got married a couple of weeks ago), but I got busy with other trivial little things like looking for a job and… well… making tea and stuff.
Frankly, it’s a little weird writing blog posts at the moment. You see, shortly after I wrote my first ever blog post, I met another new blogger who lived (at the time) on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. A few months later we became more than just friends, and since those days a great many of my posts have been about The Swedish Flowerpot and the difficulties of our long-distance relationship… The thing is, that now I live with her, in Sweden, and she is stood beside me, dancing and writing an email at the same time (Yes, she is awesome). Living here has all become very normal for me by now but, for reasons I can’t adequately explain without the help of a psychotherapist, it all gets just a little surreal when I start writing a blog post whilst sitting beside her. So, here is my solution:
I will continue from exactly where I left off, right before I began falling in love with the beautiful Swede. Now, unfortunately that is rather hard to narrow down; I can’t begin in the middle of a sentence or say I will start from 3.17pm, November 20th, 2011… because love isn’t like that, but I’m pretty sure I left off about… here:
“…novel was eventually rejected by the lovely Victoria Marini, but we thank her for taking the time to read it and will soon start submitting it, once again, to British agents (I can’t help but hear the Bond theme whenever I say this now).”
Yes folks, it’s that time again, and this time I really mean it. I got sidetracked for a year or so but I’m getting back on course again, and it starts with submitting the novel to new and improved literary agents (with enhanced colour protection and summer-berry scent). If any of them show the slightest interest in my work they may well take a look at this blog so please be on your best behaviour on the off-chance that we are being watched from the timeless worlds of space (sorry… went for a Burton there). Let the rejection letters come! Keep your elbows off the table, don’t lick your knife, don’t stare into a puddle so long that you turn into some variety of daffodil, and don’t… whatever you do… under any circumstances… bend over for the soap!
I’m back, baby!