So, having come home after one slightly disorienting/disappointing trip, I have to leave again for a weekend in London... don't much want to travel, don't want to pack, don't want to create time for two possible side trips or consultations... ah well.
I'm going so that I can see a production of Sondheim's Sunday in the Park with George – a meditation on art and artists, and life, and imagination, and loss and disappointment... perhaps it will be worth it after all.
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Later: having arrived, slept for about 3-4 hours, showered... feeling a bit more human. Although the list of Things To Do and Things I Should Do is a bit long, I think I'll try to enjoy the weekend....
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And the next day, Saturday: enjoyed the Sondheim hugely; will write about it. And had an amazing part-romantic, part-other experience Friday night; won't write about it, not on a bet. Clearly I'm still a bit unaligned with writing since coming back from Spain – can it be the impending pressures of school starting again, the feeling of duty associated with writing, or just the greyer skies? – sorry about that; in any case will attempt to become coherent again, and communicative again, in the next two days.
Maybe it's just that, at some level, I still feel a bit too much like she, at the head of this post, looks....
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