Being completely burnt out after my parents' visit I decided to stay in on Saturday night. I have no money, a cold, and possible liver damage. This could be because they "made me" stay up til 8am on Ursula's balcony drinking Jagermeister last week. So this weekend I think I need at least one hot bath and a night on the sofa, relaxing.
Trouble is, staying in relaxing is only any fun for the first ten minutes. After that, it just gets kind of irritating, doesn't it? Absolutely everybody else I know is at a party somewhere. Except Bjarni, busy killing ninjas in the countryside, and my Truculent Horse, busy writing her new blog up north.
I watch my New Gay Best Friend getting ready for a night on the town. "Don't leave me!" I panic, grabbing onto his ankles and getting dragged round the shiny wooden floor as he tries to escape the house. "I'm bored already!" He's not sympathetic. "Why not use the time to do some work on your screenplay?" he suggests, as he kicks his leg until I can't grip onto it any longer.
Hmm, of course, my award-winning screenplay that I'd worked so hard on during my stint in London and then promptly forgotten all about. I pick myself up from the ground and dust myself off. Well, not forgotten all about, exactly, but I certainly hadn't actually written anything down since returning to Iceland.
So thanks to my NGBF's brilliant suggestion, I happily spend the rest of the evening at my iBook, busily staring out of the window, swooshing up and down a red carpet at Cannes, dressed in something simple but elegant — Versace probably — Bjarni on one arm and 7 awards in the other, including Best Director and Best Screenplay Ever Written by Man or Woman in the History of Filmmaking Ever.
It wasn't such a bad Saturday night after all.
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I know EXACTLY what you mean! I tried to be good and work on some illustrations this weekend only to discover that my drawing skills had turned into those of a five year old without a drop of artistic talent.
ReplyDeleteLuckily I had bought some Maltöl (the only thing I could find which looked vaguely like beer) in the 'shop' here as a 'treat' so that ... well, didn't cheer me up at all to be honest.
I was given 24 cans of Malt as a Christmas present from the client who makes it. Unfortunately, it came wrapped up in a big sack so I foolishly presumed it was beer (which they also make) and took it to a party with me.
ReplyDeletewhat's your screenplay about, then?
ReplyDeleteI can't say. But it's going to be fabulous, honest. One day.
ReplyDelete