Modern times
Hard to extricate myself from bed this morning, despite Calliope's best efforts. Lorraine feeling similar. Eventually I got up and worked for a few hours on the French work. Broke off to listen at one point to a bootleg-style recording of 'This concert' made by Basil who was singing in the choir. The music sounds fantastic, but as my speaker and voice were pointing away from Basil you can only hear me with difficulty. Typical. The good news is the music sounds beautiful. I'm looking forward to having a proper recording of it. Listening to the recording took me back to the performance so strongly I felt exhilarated and nervous all over again.
Flashes of anxiety all day. The reasons for this hard to pin down. A sense of being caught up like Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times by forces beyond my control. Weird though, because life is going really well for me. By my own lights I am succeeding at the moment. But I feel like a moulting crab, still soft shelled but larger.
After French work was done, I slouched on my sofa and devoted myself to the world cup, and making a hot pork curry. Lorraine and I both feeling sore-throated and sluggish. L left for home in the evening and left me to catching up with my blog. And so to bed.
Below Chaplin in Modern Times
Hard to extricate myself from bed this morning, despite Calliope's best efforts. Lorraine feeling similar. Eventually I got up and worked for a few hours on the French work. Broke off to listen at one point to a bootleg-style recording of 'This concert' made by Basil who was singing in the choir. The music sounds fantastic, but as my speaker and voice were pointing away from Basil you can only hear me with difficulty. Typical. The good news is the music sounds beautiful. I'm looking forward to having a proper recording of it. Listening to the recording took me back to the performance so strongly I felt exhilarated and nervous all over again.
Flashes of anxiety all day. The reasons for this hard to pin down. A sense of being caught up like Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times by forces beyond my control. Weird though, because life is going really well for me. By my own lights I am succeeding at the moment. But I feel like a moulting crab, still soft shelled but larger.
After French work was done, I slouched on my sofa and devoted myself to the world cup, and making a hot pork curry. Lorraine and I both feeling sore-throated and sluggish. L left for home in the evening and left me to catching up with my blog. And so to bed.
Below Chaplin in Modern Times
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