There’s lots of stuff on the horizon and much of it promises to be pretty full on. Tomorrow and Friday I’ll be up all night filming outside of London. Next week it looks probable I’ll be doing the Open Golf Tournament, unless a miracle happens and I land this advert. My body still hurts. Not just the rib. There’s lots of collateral. All I did was fall a short distance, dammit. But my body really wants to stop, so today I let it. Tomorrow I have to pretend to be healthy. So me and the cat have spent most of the day lounging around. We read some stuff, had some food, played some games. I lay in the bath for an hour. It has been the most relaxed day I’ve had for ages. The most strenuous thing I’ve done is change my sheets. The hardest thing I’ve done is sneeze. God that hurt. I almost passed out. If I suffered from hay fever I’d probably have tried to drown myself by now, with this rib.
I’ve achieved so little I feel quite tired already. Being idle is exhausting. No wonder it can become addictive. I think I feel heavier
About the only thing of note I did today is go for lunch with an old friend. “Maybe you should only write your blog once a week, Al,” she said as I tucked into my Eggs Benedict. “That might be better for you and mean you have more to write about.”
“That would defeat the object.” I explained, drooling egg. “I’m doing it partly to make myself accountable to something. If I just lounge around all day then I still have to write a blog at the end of it.” Also, I’m honing my style. Once this year is done I probably WILL stop the daily updates, but only because I’ll be shifting my daily writing habit to something more concrete and perhaps marginally less self-obsessed.
“I liked it when you were traveling,” she goes on. Yes. So did I. Very much. I need to get back on that and soon. Moving around is a big part of what makes me happy. But unfortunately right now I’m not traveling. Right now I’m doing random stuff in London and occasionally wasting a day under the impression that I am in some way recuperating.
I did just get a call from a friend asking if I wanted to go to a festival in early August and perform a short one man show every day in a caravan. It would mean I have to write it for myself between now and early August, learn it and be ready to smash it. It’s tempting. I’d be in good company. And there are some good friends of mine who’ll be there doing it. It’s a potential frame for me to test some of the material that’s been roiling around in my head lately about death and gender. I get the sense I’ll probably end up doing it. But I’m going to sleep on it. I’ll probably sleep pretty well, but I’ll need to sleep strange as well to get myself ready for two consecutive night shoots.