Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Twenty Nine Years and Thirty-Six Months

Today's my birthday - ah now, no fuss as I'm already too drunk to notice thanks to a Breakfast Martini the size of a dishwasher - and I've been reflecting internally. Mostly after my 'dear' housemate put sequins in my lubricant for a laugh.

He took me out to dinner to apologise, and we got chatting as to what we had been doing exactly a decade back. So out came the dusty 1997 diary. Exterior: black leatherette. Interior: the contents of if a 8-year-old schoolgirl's head (eg. August 28: 'Oh my god, "Romy and Michelle" is so me!'). As soon as I opened it a note saying 'Brad, I simply can't leave yet! My hair isn't 1950s enough!' fell out. I have no idea what this means, but I loved it anyway.

So I scan-read the whole thing on the tube on the way in to work this morning - it's brilliant, baffling stuff. It's back when emotional maturity had completely skipped me by for yet another year; seemingly as did fashion sense, as I went clubbing one night in what's only described as 'knee-length boots, Daisy Duke shorts, t-shirt and a waist-coat'. Oh lord, I remember that night well. At the time I thought people were pointing because I was setting trends. Oh yes, isn't hindsight a marvellous thing?

Indeed, that lack of emotional maturity is manifest in all entries: things are either loved or hated, or veer wildly from amazing highs (July 22: 'Babylon 5 and a boyfriend, can my life get any better?' with better underlined three times) to embarrassing deep-funk lows where All Life Seems Bleak And Hopeless (September 1: 'I feel like a pawn, clinging to someone else's beat' Just what?). Never a middling ground, always one or the other.

I have this friend who's exactly like this now, and his Facebook status updates are always unintentionally hilarious: '[friend's name] is currently thinking of slitting his wrists because he is so down, but went to see Tori Amos last night and still has some cigarettes left, so things aren't all bad'. Well, I say 'friend' - he brushed up against me in bry-nylon and I had to strike up a conversation as my fun-fur caught on the static. I'd sever the ties between us as he's so tiresome in real life, but his hapless emo updates are always a riot over my first vodka of the morning.

Thank heaven I've got a bit of self-awareness in time. Only a bit, mind - there's still going to be enough blog-fodder in the next decade, I know. And on reflection (have you ever tried expelling sequins?) I can honestly say that I wouldn't go back and give myself a talking to if I had the chance. Well, I'd pop a note through saying 'waist-coats are dead, give it up' and urge myself to be bold and spend more than £3 on a haircut once in a while. But on the whole, I'm pretty happy how I turned out. Instead I shall roll forward, ever closer to the time where I end up dictating this blessed thing from a chaise lounge to some young fella-me-lad who I can introduce to all my friends as "My work associate" with a knowing giggle. And that, my darlings, is how I hope we all end up.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

PS: (October 19: 'SPICE UP YOUR LIFE STRAIGHT IN AT NUMBER ONE!' *rolls eyes*)


CyberPete said...

Wow is it that long ago Spice up your life went no 1?

Anyway happy birthday Lee! May you have all the champagne cocktails you could ever wish for.

Erin said...

Happy day, Lee!

Let's Kill Saturday Night said...

Happy birthday !

Logan said...

A day late officially, but it's still Friday on this side of the puddle -- happy birthday, kiddo.

Wanton Wonton said...

happy birthday you devilishly handsome man!

miss wanton

Nomes said...

Best. Post. Ever.

I LOVE reading my old journals. Even the ones from a year ago.

Usually, I'm lovelorn. Flash forward one year later to where I'm packing my belongings again, stumbled across diary, thought I'd have a quick procrastinatorial read and I'm thinking,


Don't cut forward to the reflection that I spend too much time thinking about people I clearly shouldn't be in relationships with.

XXX Happy (belated) birthday.