I plan this to be a departure from yesterday’s tragic emo-fest. In fact there has been a degree of emo-whinging in the last few posts generally. It’s time for the bitch to get back on top.
Last night I was still on my ‘being sensible’ based downer, particularly after falling up two different sets of stairs, begging the question: What the shit? I bathed the stress away and soothed my mind with the chibi delights of Final Fantasy. Ah, cliched girlie game with undertones of misogyny, how I love you. (NB: you can analyse the inherant flaws in something and still enjoy it.)
I also awarded myself a gift which arrived in the post yesterday: the complete works of Zelda Fitzgerald. The cover sleeve says she is to the jazz generation what Marilyn Monroe is to movie fans. The definition of Marilyn in my head says: tragic corpse, once possessor of the most emotive eyes on screen and epic tah-tahs. I bought the book so I could read Save me the Waltz after Tender is the Night (cue stupid Blur song coming in to my head again) and see how they compare. And also to feed my new-found fetish for literature of the Lost Generation (because there is no conceivable way that that doesn’t sound cool) despite my vow to not buy more books until the old books have been read. There are still about eighty books that need to be read. I may need to spend a month in solitary to make even a slight dent in the pile.
I have started collecting jokes with the idea of putting them into a sitcom. After all the encouragement in class to write radio plays, despite being the most unfamiliar with them I could possibly be, I have decided that my many years of TV consumption would make a visual format much more applicable to my experience. I don’t know how far I will go with this; like the vast majority of my pet projects it may never even see a first draft but it’s nice to have something to think of. Knowing the BBC reads unsolicited scripts also gives me hope.
Ah that dirty little word hope. It doesn’t matter what you are doing or whether you achieve anything from it as long as you have hope while you do it. You may have noticed the last time I was having hope was when cross stitching and discovering Etsy as a potential outlet for this little art of mine. I’ve not mentioned it since as I have had very little time to do any of late, though I have designed and started my second piece.