It's 22:56 on Thursday the 8th.
Last night I wrote my entry for Wednesday 7th at 00:30. Unfortunately due to my laptop's own weaknessess she decided to turn herself off and my carefully worded entry was lost. The entry was an assessment of my feelings towards yesterdays sorrowful news. After I realised it had been deleted I emotionally felt too exhausted to rewrite the entry again. Instead I fell into a rather tormented and rumbled slumber.
The death of the cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo at the hands of extremists seemed to strike a chord with my knowledge of the tragic and unfair death of the Roman philosopher Seneca (who I had been reading about yesterday morning by chance). Seneca was forced to commit suicide by the brutal vengeful leader Nero. He had believed Seneca was part of a conspiracy to kill him. Nero used his authority to make an example of the free thinking, independent, elderly and arguably unthreatening philospher - yet from his unfair death Seneca and his image remained dignified and enlightened in the eyes of many whilst Nero was seen even more clearly for the monster he was.
Yesterday's events have tremored into every aspect of the day. After reading so much online, I feel it is crucial to not waste in the unfairness of what happened but progress forward. Each hour is unpredicatably precious, we cannot predict what Fortuna will do. We must be brave, creative and thoughtful with our voices, talents and our interactions with others in order to carve out an honest, humorous and good society while we have the chance to do so. As Charb said "I'd rather die standing than live on my knees",
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Philosophizing aside, there has been great beauty in the last two days. Being sober has lengthened the days and embellished each experience into saturated high definition. It is such a contrast to the blurred memories I have of December!
I am so lucky to have such gorgeous creatures in my life. There is nothing more nourishing than the unmethodical conversations and adventures that come with friendship. In the last two days I have spent time with some phenomonal creative thinkers. I have chatted curio-shops & sketches with Casual Violence creator James Hamilton, I have swapped a fake gun and discovered a new comic-book shop with Paul Foxcroft, I have devoured Dim-Sum and chatted love with Joby Magean, I have watched Hope by Jack Thorne at the Royal Court with the lovely sit-com writer Lucien Young and outside of the comedy world I have seen three of my closest friends Will, Alex and Skippy. Each encounter with these characters has involved coffee - another dear friend of mine,.
A highlight was standing in Myddelton Square Gardens yesterday at 6pm. I was killing time before meeting my dear soul-mate, Skippy. Skippy & I have known eachother since Edinburgh 2010 and our friendship is one of the most important parts of my life. She is the Maid of Honour at all my future weddings and the godmother to all my future adopted children and pets. Anyway, I digress, in the square it was surprisingly quiet despite how close it is to Angel tube station and the main roads. There was no one about. It was as if my companion and I had travelled back in time to a location in a Dickens novel. Next to the sound of the wind the silhouette of the naked branches against the full moon was hauntingly emotive. A fox appeared noislessly to my left and glided in between the black railings guarding the church - up close they are incredibly graceful creatures. We stood so still that the fox simply just stood and watched us, only 5 ft away, before losing interest and going to play in the leaves. Although feeling perishing on my fingers and toes the cold air felt cleansing on my throat as I breathed it in. I looked at my watch, realised the time and started to walk again, past the locked church and towards the noise of the road ahead.
Who said January was a gloomy month?
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Today's entry to conclude has been rather ruminative. Sorry if you hoped it would be more funny! Ha. After all the business of work, writing, meetings and laughter with comedy companions I am relieved to be back in my pink room and cushioned in my onesie like the single content Bridgit Jones character I am. BBC Radio 6 is on, and a letter has arrived from my penpal which I look forward to reading.
Rehearsals start for DUCK FLU tomorrow morning with Harriet Kemsley in Camden. Do come along next week if you can.
I hope you have had a wonderful day.
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