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Anne Townsend

@ Sunday Times Books LIVE

But Why? Why did I Wait So Long?

Like most addictions, the first 24 hours. Wow. I, like, didn’t leave my bed. Baths were not taken. Coffee was made. Linen rumpled. But why? Why did I wait so long?

48 hours later: Rage. Fatigue. The cross-eyed bewilderment that stems from tweets that distract from sexual abuse by pondering: Democrat/Republican? Whiners (especially women) who still don’t ‘get’ that Hillary is a spokesperson for gagging. This is a woman who holds a hand over voices. She silences. Trump’s ingenious post to Kim Jong Un. Did I laugh? But the (short/fat) dude has nuclear weapons. (Did you not see his hair, Donny?) PS: Can we have a Golden Labrador for President?

Alain de Botton. Joyce Carol Oates. Augusten Burroughs. The Dalai Lama!! Do we connect? Or do I go off them on Twitter? I can’t afford to go off Augusten B. He’s too dear to me. (((Caution)))

72 hours later: Elizabeth Gilbert’s tweets are as annoying as the other words that tumble off of her.

Old friends from yonder. Plugging away at grey jobs.  Exotic lives that melt into years of beige.

Days pass. Elephants. Trophies. Meat eaters: Elephants must NOT die. (((Huh??))) (((Selective Scorn)))

Barrydale. Acres of glittering fields. Farm houses. Dogs. Warm smiles. Talks with faces accompanied by body language and sounds. My. Addiction. Peaks. And. Wanes. Barrydale waits. Twitter. (((Home)))

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