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November is Dead, Long Live December

I rang my exceedingly nice osteopath yesterday and he's exceedingly nicely given me an appointment for Thursday whereupon I shall pay him some money and he will make my back do scary noises and then afterwards I'll be able to walk again.

My NaNo fell down with a hamstring injury at 48k, a mere hand's breadth from the finish line and alas! I did try to finish but I was drugged and dazed and confused and one handed typing was too much of a trial. I feel a little bit sad about it, as I have no pretty winner bar I can flash, but still I am consoling myself with the thought that I could have made it were it not for accidents, and I may well pretend to inhabit an alternate NaNo-verse in which the task is to write 48k in 28 days, so it's all right then.

Despite me having 48k of text (and I'm pleased that I didn't write crap for the pure sake of it, I may ditch bits of text if I can't make them link to the finished whole, but all the words I have are words I'm happy with) I have managed the astonishing feat of still lacking a beginning to my novel. I have a notion that this entire thing may be easier if I actually had a chapter structure to follow, rather than worked my piece as a colour-coded mosaic. I have scenes and concepts in my head, and I develop them as they occur to me and make them different colours (for instance war sequences are in red, tom and jude are blue and so on) so that when I scroll back through the text, it makes it easier to cut and paste when the time comes to magically link the bits together.

It is December and I'm feeling a tad depressed about it, as I'm not overfond of this time of year. It will mean running about like crazy persuns at work and outside it, it will mean horrible festive songs being blared in my ear and no proper snow and being far away from the people I miss and want to be seeing.

I love November, it's full of the crazy NaNo rush and hectic people, and December just seems a bit anti-climatic, and rather vaguely sad, like the day after a party.

I feel the sadness of having been away from Yug for such a long time this year. I haven't been back home since June, which oh my god is almost six months. Last time I was there in October, and then after that in January. I was happy both times, ludicrously so, I was in love and I felt loved and those months were full of adventures and that magical high of feeling like anything is possible. January was knee-deep in snow and N. & M. and I celebrated the Serb New Year by going down to St. Sava's Temple to listen to the ringing of the bells and watch the fireworks at midnight. It was cold, and full of people and Nikola found us a space by one of the little church buildings scattered around St. Sava, and none of us could synchronise our watches or figure out when midnight was meant to be occurring, and all I remember was being giddy with laughter and the friendly banter of saracastic runnign commentary we lobbed fondly at ourselves and one another. I remember laughing, a lot, and swearing at some hooligans. I remember the parks empty of all but some solitary dog walkers, and a couple kissing, and I remember all the moonlit glittering snow, that the roofs and pines were heavy with. I remember the biting cold of the outside and the refuges of friends houses, with cakes and hot tea purring under my skin. It was a wondrous happy time. There is unquestionably, undented by any war, a warmth in Yugoslavia that nothing can capture.

A fierce (sometimes tempestuous) but always sincere love of things. A wonderful, warm-as-mulled-wine love of one another. I miss the notion that a single phonecall is the gateway to someone's arms, and that although there is not much to give, the not-much is given and shared freely. I miss the welcoming happiness of people, and I miss the beauty of my city.

London is funky, and there are so many things I love about it, but it is not beautiful. It is not an eccentric, eclectic, crazy old and beautiful entity like Belgrade, with its rafts and river-boats, musical hordes of Gypsies, ancient buses and temperamental trams. The huge concrete monstrosities of New Belgrade, and the beautiful (but somewhat falling down) houses and secret gardens of the Old City. No ancient fortress looking out at where the rivers meet.

My old city is a beautiful one, and dearly beloved, and as the days wind down upon themselves ever-tighter, I miss it.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
miss_newham
Dec. 1st, 2004 06:27 am (UTC)
I love December and hate November, so let us hang out some more and share the load.
rainsinger
Dec. 1st, 2004 06:48 am (UTC)
An excellent notion, I approve of thoroughly.
birdie1986
Dec. 1st, 2004 07:49 am (UTC)
Belgrade sounds so amazing, i love the way you describe it

I'm not surprised you miss it

december canbe a fun month though - when you get to drive along a beautifully lit street with classical xmas lights, and when it does actually snow (yes shock horror at times it does really snow in december)

love
*k*
dubaiyan
Dec. 1st, 2004 12:08 pm (UTC)
colour-coding!
why did i not think of that!!

next year :D

you should work for the tourist industry. i remember you MSNing us from Yug in June.

is your mum back there now?
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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