Urg. (Urg is the vocal equivalent of an Ugg. Which is the podiatry equivalent to a Croc.)
Still feeling really flat, and have since developed a flight/fight scenario in my brain. Really, this just means that I want to run away. Far far away from feeling depressed and having to deal with a bunch of dynamics that seem unfixable right now.
We went to the Olympics yesterday, to see the female basketball. The actual basketball was great - team GB lost to Russia, and the Brazilians got thumped by the Aussies (was rooting for those Brazilians, obviously), but as far as games are concerned - it turns out basketball is a winner to watch live.
No foam fingers or American organ music in the background, but the atmosphere is pretty similar.
The Olympic Park is kind of like a festival, but for sporty people not on handfuls of ecstasy. Not that sport is more or less my scene than ecstasy is, but it was actually rather fun. There are pubs, strips of lawn and flowers you can lie on and watch the world go by or see the latest on the big screens, lots of classically twee British food stalls selling things like mash and Cornish pasties, the Olympic rings everywhere, slick decking. A busy little village that will be half dismantled at the end of it all.
She Who Also Loves Tweed and the Brit took me out for lunch and dinner yesterday, in a bid to show me that I am - somewhat - loved. Bless them,, it was good to offload and get food sweats.
Tonight I am going to the Comedy Store for some casual standup joking and mockery. Still my favourite night out in London. And probably do me a great deal of good too.
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