Blogstipation

by Aditha Dissanayake in New York

Blogstipation? Elementary Mr. Watson. The inability to blog regularly.

If blogging means writing,I have got a severe case of blogstipation right now. You would know what I mean if you ransacked last Sunday's paper looking for me and even if you didn't...well...now you know.

The reasons? The gloomy weather, here in New York, as sunny as a Kafka novel. And the heart-breaking task of going out in search of assignment material, without stopping for a chat with the lady next door, a widow with silver hair, a very cheerful disposition and a desire to have long monologues with whoever happens to go past her open door. "Are you covered well enough to go out? Is this weather cold enough for you?" she chuckles.

Then moves onto say, quite forgetting that she has said this to me almost everyday during the past three months "I am alone now. My husband was French. He died when he was forty. He smoked too much". "I am sorry" I tell her with my eyes on the clock in her sitting room. "Please let me go" I pray silently knowing word to word what she will say next "Thank god for the television. Do you watch TV?" "Not often" I tell her and apologize for being in a hurry. "I have to go before the library closes" I tell her. "Yes. Yes. Are you sure you are not cold..." I am out of the door before she finishes the sentence...Sorry Mrs. Belan, I am in a hurry.

I have to find a cure for blogstipation.

No luck at the library, though. Back home and not having anything better to do, I switch on the TV. The news bulletin. A far cry from the ones I am used to in Sri Lanka. The presentators are jovial, relaxed, personal. "Today's my mom's birthday" says the lady. "Hi, Mom! If you are watching, happy birthday" she grins before moving onto talk about the newest member in Joe Biden's transitional team - a puppy, and of course the economic crisis, the war, and a case of cyber bullying where a 29 year old is accused for sending a vulgar text message to a 17 year old girl.

Next, the weather broadcast. Onto Mike Woods, the weatherman, more constant in his appearances everyday than the sun itself. One of his colleagues is out on the streets asking people if they predict Mike's predictions will come true. One old man looks up at the blue sky and says "Nah. Not today".

Back to Mike whose professional credibility is now on the line. "I say there will be snow" he reiterates. The news anchor agrees. "After all he is the only guy among us who has gone to meteorology school" he reminds the viewers and continues "Before we send you back to the radar, Mike, tell us have you always been called Mike?" No laughs Mike. "My sisters call me Mike. My real name is Michael". The lady intervenes at this point. "It suits you because it rhymes with light. Mike and light". The others clap with glee as if she has said something brilliant, something extraordinary, as if she is a reincarnation of Sapho.

Difference

How different this weather broadcast is, from the ones I am used to at home, where the one occasion I found myself laughing was when a weatherman on a radio channel said "there will be a strong wind blowing from an indeterminable direction today" (avinishitha disavaking thada sulangak hama enu atha).

Onto the next channel. Sesame Street. I know it's being a long time since I learned my ABC but the charms of Big Bird, Cookie Monster, Oscar and the others are still upon me. My favourite moment is when the cookie monster appears to gobble up a mountain of cookies.

This must be a treat for him because nowadays he is made to eat more nutritious food in order to set a good example to kids suffering from childhood obesity. He has an explanation for this chocolate chip binge of course. "I do not eat cookies, I take cookies".What's the difference? Cookie Monster: Eat begins with an E and take... Begins with a T".

Got to go now. No more space to write. And I know what you are thinking. "Aditha, high time you grew up". You could be right. I promise I will work on it...straight away. Or after I turn 90!