I've Lost My Funny

I don't know what's happened to me, but I've lost my funny. I've tried getting it back, but this week - it's MIA.

I've lost the wind in my sails, there's nothing floating my boat, no one's blowing my skirt up, I have officially lost my funny.

What's a clown without the funny? A weird person with odd make-up issues.

I'm usually a very happy person. But this week, I'm so low I could do the limbo.

Why have my wheels fallen off my apple cart? 

Tell me a joke. And tell me where my funny has gone. Please?

Image via Pinterest

Clive James

Saddened to read that Clive James has said that he believes he's lost his battle with leukemia, it made me think of his rich, almost iconic voice.

Such a clever, witty and intelligent man. I vividly remember being transfixed by him. Laughing out loud before anyone LOLed.

I had a bit of an obsession with The Clive James show in high school, and loved him. I kept coming back for more.

I just had to find this clip of Margarita Pracatan performing on The Clive James show back in 1996. In fact, I watched this just a couple of months ago because I often think of Margarita Pracatan. I know. My mind is an unusual place.

From essays, poetry to reviews, the man has a wonderful way with words. I think that's why I was drawn to him.

Looking for some Clive James clever-ness? Here. Here. And here.

Reading.

I know I've written about this book before, but I'm going there again because it is one of my all-time favourite reads. It's beautifully written, moving, and I marvel at it on each read. Given tomorrow marks 10 years since 9/11 it seems quite fitting to re-read it right now.
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I can still remember exactly where I was when I found out about 9/11. My Mum and Dad rang me really early to tell me to turn the TV on. I did, and couldn't fathom what I was seeing. Why was this plane flying into the building? The reality didn't register for me.

I then had to go to work, and spent the loneliest, greyest, longest day waiting for news. I worked in a store, by myself, and kept going to the cafe next door for updates. I remember that day, and can instantly recall that sick pit in my stomach. I can barely believe it's been 10 years already, watching those two buildings crumble, and the days afterward hearing and reading about too many people's last day.

There's a really good special report over at NY Times if you're interested.

Our Weekend

I drove up to my Mum and Dad's place on Thursday. Just the smalls and myself.

It's only a four and a half hour drive, but I was so tired. I drank two coffees, one cup of tea, and a medium post-mix Coke. Ordinarily I only have one caffeinated drink a day. But I was so weary.

We celebrated our beloved Grandmother's life. We cried. We laughed. We caught up with relatives that we had not seen in too long.

I hated leaving today. I would have liked to have stayed up there longer, but life continues. I always find that such a hard thing to deal with when grieving. Why is everyone oblivious to the waves of grief? You know that feeling? You just want a stand-still, out of respect.

And the drive home was long. The Doctor kept talking for most of it. Tiny screamed for part of it.

I am quietly exhausted. I think I have car-lag. Curled up on the couch thinking about my family. Glad to have had that time to remember some beautiful memories and remember and rejoice in a wonderful and inspiring life.