Bonjour, parlez-vous useless bastard?
I have the Summertime Blues, big time. My self-diagnosed, probably made-up, reverse seasonal affective disorder is in full, mopey swing.
1. I have tidied my office - actually, I have tidied everything, it seems to be some kind of fucked up new coping mechanism, though the crap is piled so high in certain areas it has made no difference whatsoever - and now I do not have a single thought in my head. I am starting to think that maybe the two things are linked and the squalid piles of paper/old teabags/abandoned soft toys/old CDs/lengths of dusty cable were some kind of creative talisman. I can't write a sentence.
Fuck it, I like having a clean office though.
*Listens to brain crickets*
The dog looks like I feel, however. Twisted-defeated.
2. I went out for a walk to try and .. I dunno, it's supposed to help, isn't it. Anyway, I ended up first at Bastardpost and then sitting in the park crying and I can tell you I had literally no ideas in either of those places other than "cor, you are really pathetic Emma." On the way home I saw a dead blue tit and shouted at a man for failing to stop at a zebra crossing. What have I become?
3. I keep thinking "maybe this is the doldrums before the redemptive twist" but seem incapable of doing anything that might assist any such putative redemptive twist to happen. Can you get a redemptive twist from lying in a ball on the floor eating Marks and Spencer salted milk chocolate? It seems unlikely. Note on the chocolate: it is nothing like as good as the salted milk chocolate from the hippy shop round the corner, but I have banned myself from buying that stuff, because it is physically impossible for me to have a bar in the house for more than 30 seconds without shoving it in my mouth.
4. I know the Internet is making me even crazier, but in these times of fast-moving political farce-tragedy it is very difficult to wean oneself off the dispiriting, unhealthy, queasy-making churn of it all.
ANYWAY. This is not very jolly, is it. I mean, come on, I'm not in a Nigerian sawmill. Let me try and think of some good things:
- As of this afternoon I have only ONE child at home, the other is on its way to Normandy for two weeks of bracing sea air (desired or otherwise). This has halved my screen time guilt, result.
- I found a copy of the magazine for which I did this cover interview whilst tidying and awww, I was so proud of it. Still am.
I had to run and buy that bow tie AND do his make up and this picture was taken in the back room of a Belgian-Congolese radio station in Matonge which just happened to have a throne in. Fun times.
- I know I shouldn't be pleased to hear about a miscarriage of justice, but I am excited about the new series of Undisclosed. Also, in it, I discovered Napoleon was not short! I did not know this!
- Eating. Very enjoyable. I am currently enjoying an afternoon snack of rillettes and chicory, JUST BECAUSE. I am trying to walk more to limit The Fattening, but I would have to walk to Scotland daily for it to have any effect.
- Corvid ballet (and if you scroll down WOMAN IN A PADDLING POOL FULL OF SWANS, WHITHER HEALTH AND SAFETY. I've just got lost down a rabbit hole of mad swan based contemporary dance, if you speak French, this clip is fantastically mad, even if you don't it's quite something):
I love the idea of someone looking at ballet and thinking "yeah, these slender limbed ladies making beautiful fluid shapes to music are ok, but what this is really missing is some GIANT FEATHERY KILLERS." Then deciding to add birds to ALL his ballet.
I'm going to stop here because these are more words than I have managed to put in a sequence for about a fortnight and I don't want to overdo it, eh.
20% Goose fat
20% Other fat
20% Brexitfoot - I haven't told you about Brexitfoot! It's my disgusting summer foot maiming nervous tic, currently ramped up due to Brexfuckery. I can barely walk.
20% Tidying insanity
20% Tortoise pimp ambivalence (we are having to acquire a couple of really burly 1kg females to deal with the distasteful orgy of sex-fight-sex-fight our two males have been indulging in all summer, I could probably have got a whole post out of that, now I think of it)
You? Is there anyone else (apart from the lovely lady I met a while back in the Portuguese custard tart cafe) who also gets weird in the summer? Would you dance with a swan in a paddling pool? Do you believe in salty chocolate? Talk to me.