Funk

Considering the soundtrack for the last few hours has been Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes and Leonard Cohen I guess I’ve only got myself to blame if I feel sad. I’m kicking around my lovely flat full of piles of things listening to melancholy music, frequently with a snake on my head. Me and Hex. Solving crimes.

In today’s episode, Hex and Al try to work out who stole the warmth from the world. Hex’s special power is sleeping. Mine is getting distracted. Hardly a dynamic duo. Nothing happens in the episode. The end.

I’m supposed to be recording a self tape so I can go on set and do some lovely filming next month – possibly in North Africa – but today I didn’t have the get up and go to even shave down to a moustache for it. I’ve gone over the lines a few times out of reflex. That’s it. I’ll get it on tape somehow tomorrow because I have to, with beautifully shaved tache and everything. I might even try to persuade a brave friend to help, as it involves a fecking action sequence. Despite this, motivation in the dark has proven elusive. I’m glad of this beautiful flat, I’m surrounded by all sorts of wonderful things, I have lots of devices that provide different forms of distraction in exchange for money. I miss some of the people I’ve lived with over the years who provide me with distraction for free. Company would be nice, even though I’m also relieved that it’s just me in here. I can be antisocial. I can listen to my sad music, burn my stinky incense, and spread my weird cornucopia of junk hither and yon without consequences. I can walk around naked with a snake.

But yeah I’m sad. We all are.

The decision to keep the Christmas decorations up until Candlemas at least means it’s trying to be cheerful here, but I’m still sad. Part of it is circumstance. Lots of my grandparent’s furniture sold at auction this morning for fuckedynothing this morning and I’m as little put out. Better we aren’t paying to store it, sure. But some lovely things sold for absolutely bobbins and it’s sad to think that after charges, grandpa’s bed will yield about £6.50 which I’ll have to split with my brother. It deserved better. I miss him as well. I miss them all in this dark. The buck stops here now… I still don’t like it.

So I’m running a bath, and I cooked up a storm. Teriyaki Salmon with crispy kale quinoa and savoy cabbage. Easily enough for two people, and before you applaud me for my culinary expertise it’s cooking by numbers courtesy of Mindful Chef, the lazy recipe in a bag people. Simple enough to cook even in this funk. Healthy enough that, no matter how demotivated I am, I still get my five a day.

I really want the world back now. And the summer. The summery world. I would like to travel immediately to a hot place and do fuck all there instead. Closest I’m gonna get is this filming. Best work out how I’m going to record the scene I guess. That’s the way out.

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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