Shadows

On balance, for mental health, it is definitely better to do things than to not do things. My two days could not have been more different.

I woke up and welcomed Rhys, who has got magic cards to flog. They have been a ball and chain for him as he doesn’t play Magic the Gathering anymore but remembers the time when he did with great fondness. He’s asked me to help get rid of them, and I knew full well that his coming over was part of the process of letting go, but also with that comes a reconnection. I had it similar when I flogged the best of my old ones, thankfully before the crackhead decided I was some idiot sitting on a pile of Moxes. His cards are from the period in the game after all the cards that mustn’t be reprinted were put out, but before it settled into the cynical machine of addiction that it is now. None of them are big. None of mine were big, even if mine were bigger than his. My biggest card sold for maybe £225. It was a dual land. His biggest card is about £30.

I’m happy to sell these things, good at selling these things, my eBay is full of these things that I’ve sold and feedback from selling these things. Occasionally I go to a tournament in real life, if it’s Limited. I open my packs, build my deck, win something, then flog all the value from what I opened and what I won. Usually I make much more than the entry cos I don’t want the cards and I’m quick to list them which is powerful if it’s a new set.

We both had our nostalgia. The decent ones are all listed. If they were mine they’d all be at 0.99p starting price and let them find their level, but I could tell Rhys needs them not to go for fuck all, which is the risk with that strategy. I tried to put their starting bid north of mid range. They won’t get so much interest and they might go round a few times, but it’s done now. We will both have money dripping in as a result of today, but not all of them will sell next Sunday.

Then I went to the theatre, to see Colin Hurley in his one man show Lear’s Shadow.

I have such incredibly talented mates, and often there’s a bit of Shakespeare in the middle of the things they end up doing. This a very live show, a clown show, and a show about deterioration. It’s Lear, but it’s more personal, more relatable, less “impressive”. It made me want to see Colin as either Lear or his fool, but also made me know that it would break my heart to do so. Break.  Heart. That’s how he opened it. Written on his chest.

Being a bit sad about a damaged friendship and the fact it’s dark is thrown into sharp relief by the shit that happens to the folk in Lear. I’m alright. I’ll be fine. I’ve still got my eyes and haven’t given everything away to two sociopaths yet. And I get to see Lou tomorrow which is a huge tonic even if she’s been dying of bronchitis which I desperately want to avoid being exposed to as it’s the one thing that fucks me for months. My tubes have history. When I’ve got a cough people almost always threaten to call an ambulance.

She’s not contagious anymore, I reckon. Let’s see.