Feet up

The timesoup is thickening and people are starting to go bonkers. Not being locked up with somebody else is a blessing and a curse. I can live according to my own timings but my timings are all over the place these days. I’ve achieved next to nothing all day and actually I’m perfectly happy with that. It’s not even the weekend. I feel bollocks anyway, and I slept long hours. Partly sickness, partly just indolence. I didn’t have a target today. Even the simple aim of a zoom rehearsal is a thing for which I have to wash myself and put clothes on and attach a smile. I’m still wearing the I slept in plus socks, and it’s 9.30 at night. I’m only tired because I’m supposed to be tired. It isn’t like I’ve done anything to warrant being tired. Friday night, ladies and gentlemen. Friday night. Usually that’s the night when I walk into the bar, get hit by desperate noise heat and sweat, and remark to my friend “Oh fuck is it Friday? Shall we just sack it off?”

Right about now I think I’d get stuck in. I could manage that, being part of that shouting mess of dumb bodies as you breathe each others sweat and have entire shouted conversations about nothing with someone’s shoulder jammed into your back and then the stressed out glass collector drops a tray of glasses and the whole room cheers spontaneously and then laughs at itself for cheering as if it was one huge heaving great stupid organism. Shit Friday London and coming now to the time of year where there aren’t so many coats and scarves to lose and you aren’t going to freeze to death waiting for a nightbus so you can have another one even though there’s work tomorrow morning because fuck it, it’s a Friday, right? Yeah!

Nuclear bolognese, Dungeons and Dragons Online, Judge Dredd the Megacollection. Today, Michael, I’m going to be a teenager. And nobody can tell me not to so nerrr.

Thankfully in keeping with the rules of being an actor – (ie work at the times nobody else works) – I am in rehearsal tomorrow morning on zoom. So now I’m slipping from the miasma of my strangely comforting if thoroughly indulgent and lazy teenage day into the tried and tested bedtime routine as detailed yesterday.

Last night I dreamt I was hanging out with old friends. People from the cresta. Long long time ago friends. We were just hanging out together. An outwardly uncomplicated dream with many inner complications. The longing to just hang out. The desire to be active and outdoors under that wonderful Swiss sky. A la recherche de temps perdue. When I was really an actual teenager and my time was nothing but my own.

I can’t be shiftless for long now, ever. I’ve seen what it does when it accumulates over time. I woke up one morning and started walking again. There’s still a long walk ahead, but now there’s a long walk behind. It’s ok to rest our feet for a bit.



Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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