Well, we’re looking at another month of lockdown here. I am bombing my system with supplements. And I’ve finally cracked and started eating biscuits, which I consider getting close to lockdown rock bottom. I generally eat very little sugar, but I started eating desserts again last year during that long bout of 1000mphclub, and here I am gnawing through a Fortnum and Mason’s Toffolossus, a single instance of which could probably feed a street for three days.
Am drinking alcohol at the normal rate.
Frankly, I don’t know why you’re reading this, because aren’t you pigsick of everyone’s individual, dull and generally charmless Take on the lockdown and the covid? I know I am. My stress levels are generally through the roof, but isn’t everybody’s, at this point?
Walked out for supplies today, and every time I walked past somebody, they smiled and nodded. “Hello! You have the face of someone I have not been trapped in my home with for two months! I am happy to see your face! Or whatever part of it is exposed to the air!”
Work is slow. My particular process requires me to get the fuck out of the house and away from the screens for an hour or two each day, to walk and wander and buy lunch and sit outside somewhere with a glass of wine and just let brain and body catch up to each other in their own time. Now? Development and notes go fast, gathering together complex scriptwriting does not. I’ve had the same job in front of me for four days and it’s barely two-thirds done.
Observing, not complaining. Just as I observe that I’m seeing a lot more cars on the roads and people on the streets. Lockdown is fraying.