13 December 2005

The Blog(u) 18: Love and Hate

plink stirred absently at her drink as she thought about that. ‘How do people go crazy when they see Hate?’
‘Maybe it’s better if we come out of your imagination to show you.’
And suddenly, plink found herself sat at the bottom of some stairs. A kind young woman in black, sat two steps behind, was tending to plink’s long hair with a brush. Her hair was in turn being expertly brushed by another, haloed woman in white. The stairs led from the ground to a cosy house on stilts surrounded by a blogfield teeming with the twinkling lights of ideas.
‘Who are you?’
Love,’ said one.
‘And Hate,’ said the other. Then her expression became mysterious, ‘Or am I Love and she Hate?’
‘I can never remember,’ confessed the first.
‘Which one of you is which?’ demanded little plink, not a little apprehensively.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said the one in black calmly as she brushed plink’s long tresses. ‘We have worked together so long it hardly matters.’
plink looked back again and saw, with some surprise, that Love and Hate had changed places. The haloed one expertly weaved a comb through plink’s dark hair as she spoke.
‘Some days, we even complete one another’s sentences.’
‘Wait,’ said plink and she suddenly found herself uppermost of the three with a brush in her hand. ‘This is all very nice, but what has it got to do with me?’ she paused. ‘Do you know you have split ends?’
‘Yes,’ came the weary reply, ‘occupational hazard. It’s a very busy life being Love and Hate. There just never seems to be enough time for hair care any more.’
‘But what about me?’
The haloed head in front of her bobbed slightly. ‘I was just coming to that. You needed some help and we just happened to be there.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘I suppose you could call it that,’ plink heard the implied smirk in the voice of the one in black. ‘Well, not really,’ she corrected herself. ‘You were making so much noise that we had to see for ourselves.’
‘When the four evils had control over me?’
‘Yes.You are safe for now.’
plink thought about that while she began to work her brush through the haloed hair of the one in white once more. ‘How do I get rid of the four evils?’ she asked.
‘What’s everyone been telling you?’
‘Practice?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Am I ready to blog?’
‘Weren’t you always?’
plink paused. It had never occurred to her that she might have been ready to start despite the four evils. ‘And what of the four evils?’
‘Practice’ said Love.
‘You will develop your own style with practice,’ explained Hate. ‘With your style, you will bring the four evils under control.’
‘plink, you’re not the first person to make this journey.’
Then she understood. One day, she would conquer her fear, her doubt, her tendency towards verbiage and bombast. It might take a lot of practice and hard work, but she would get it right one day.
‘There is of course, one last thing you must do.’ And plink found herself at the foot of the stairs again, with Love gently finishing her hair. ‘You must return to the Forest of Blogs. There are yet things for you to learn there.’

2 Comments:

At 9:46 pm, Blogger Lao Chen said...

*applause*

The degree of surrealism is itself surreal. It's like reading advant-garde art, except i haven't actually appreciated any AG pieces.

 
At 5:21 pm, Blogger plink said...

YeeWei: Thankyou, thankyou! Being called AG has made my day. If I can't draw, then bending and twisting words is the next best thing. ;)

 

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