18th C mental hangover.
My brain hasn't been functioning properly today, it's been spiky, bitchy, fractious and unproductive. I tried painting, I tried walks in parks, I tried reading. No dice. Yes, I do realise this is a mental hang-over from last night's crazy. So today was a bit of a waste all things considered. Still - hangovers of any sort are annoying and an inconvenience and they can fekk the hell off.
This eve I randomly found a film called 'Impromptu' which was all about George Sands and Chopin. I knew nothing of it other than it looked like a cross between Moliere and the Three Musketeers with less swords and added artistic silliness.
I was not disappointed. For the first 3/4 of its length, the film was a glorious farce that had me giggling and ranting back at the screen quite happily. Chopin was a ridiculous darling and I wanted to be George Sands - especially in those frock-coats and britches. (I am quite unashamed to say she looked lush as a boy - if she'd fancied me I would have said yes {and there are few boys and even fewer girls for whom this is so.}) Then George Sands started wearing dresses and the film suddenly got depressing and serious. It ended on both a happy note (she and Chopin together) and a HE'LL-DIE-SOON-IT'S-PROBABLY-YOUR-FAULT note which I did not in the least approve of. Especially since I know that TB doesn't work that way and the 'fresh air and carriage dust will kill you' is utter bollocks. Grr. Grrrrrr shoddy foreshadowing. Fekk off. Yeah, I know, I'm a bit pokey and bias on this subject. Grumpy stompy neurons.
*sigh*
Yeeees yees yes what I'm really hoping is that if I fail to sleep enough, eat anything worthwhile, but down enough vodka and live in a garret without care to life or limb then I'll get TB. Mwahaha... The world is slow to oblige. Dammit. Why can't I have laudanum and TB? But most of all
I miss my ghost.
I should go sleep before I give myself an alcohol induced as well as a crazy induced hangover.
This eve I randomly found a film called 'Impromptu' which was all about George Sands and Chopin. I knew nothing of it other than it looked like a cross between Moliere and the Three Musketeers with less swords and added artistic silliness.
I was not disappointed. For the first 3/4 of its length, the film was a glorious farce that had me giggling and ranting back at the screen quite happily. Chopin was a ridiculous darling and I wanted to be George Sands - especially in those frock-coats and britches. (I am quite unashamed to say she looked lush as a boy - if she'd fancied me I would have said yes {and there are few boys and even fewer girls for whom this is so.}) Then George Sands started wearing dresses and the film suddenly got depressing and serious. It ended on both a happy note (she and Chopin together) and a HE'LL-DIE-SOON-IT'S-PROBABLY-YOUR-FAULT note which I did not in the least approve of. Especially since I know that TB doesn't work that way and the 'fresh air and carriage dust will kill you' is utter bollocks. Grr. Grrrrrr shoddy foreshadowing. Fekk off. Yeah, I know, I'm a bit pokey and bias on this subject. Grumpy stompy neurons.
*sigh*
Yeeees yees yes what I'm really hoping is that if I fail to sleep enough, eat anything worthwhile, but down enough vodka and live in a garret without care to life or limb then I'll get TB. Mwahaha... The world is slow to oblige. Dammit. Why can't I have laudanum and TB? But most of all
I miss my ghost.
I should go sleep before I give myself an alcohol induced as well as a crazy induced hangover.