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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

On 28th December 2001, I had the good judgment to fall down a flight of stairs. This is briefly mentioned here, presumably because at the time I had absolutely no idea of the damage I'd just done to myself, and what was to come. In the fall, I smashed a mirror and made a joke about 7 years of bad luck. My dog died less than a month later.

There is no connection between those two last sentences. The dog was incredibly old, and by the time he died, he had no idea he was still alive. And I'm not superstitious in that way. I could spend a day happily smashing every mirror in sight, because it really doesn't concern me. I mean, if it were true, David Boreanaz has spent the last ten years as Angel, smashing mirrors willy nilly, and this would obviously mean that now his one acting role is finished, he'll never work on anything decent again and will disappear into obscurit... oh. Hang on.

But no, I'm really not superstitious like that. I can walk under ladders and kick black cats with the best of you, and won't be afraid of any repercussions from higher powers who have nothing better to do than write some stupid and pointless laws that can't be transgressed, else seven years damnation and then total forgiveness again, as if their long term memory only stretches to seven years and not a day more or less.

But getting off the plane yesterday, I counted up the indiscriminate collection of religious iconography, knick knacks and variety of possessions that actually belong to other people that I refuse to fly without, and came to the conclusion that I'm quite superstitious for someone who isn't superstitious. My collection included: three pieces of catholic iconography; one American Indian pagan god; two Celtic pagan symbols; something belonging to my dad; an old childhood toy and a bracelet my granny gave me. This time on the way to the airport I remembered that I'd forgotten to put on my dad's signet ring, but decided that I probably wouldn't die, because last time I'd forgotten my childhood toy and didn't die, so maybe I can travel with one thing missing from the collection.

He Who Only Reads This Blog To See If He's Mentioned has pointed out that everyone who travels with me obviously owes me their lives, since I'm carrying enough supernatural protection for us to probably fly safely without any engines. I think I should just be given extra allowance for all my extra baggage.

This entry was posted on 30 November 2004 at 3:25 pm. 0 comments

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