Friday, January 8, 2021

The Sacred Face

Above, is so many things: A drag show, a pandemic theatrical, a tribute/an insight and there’s humour. I absolutely loved it and so did the New Yorker. It’s thirty-six minutes if you’re interested. And you can read about it in the Dec. 28th edition of the New Yorker on page ninety-four. Fabulous!

Thursday was dreadful until late in the day when my headache went away, and the skies cleared. But I had no energy for celebrating, even mildly; the couch and I spent the day together. I dozed most of the day. Being physically ill leads to, in me at least, mental deterioration because I worried about what was wrong. 

A headache is nothing but having a couple of bouts of really bad double vision made me crash. Steve called me from L.A. and when I told him about my vision and headaches, he made a brain tumour joke. (Not a good idea with someone with serious anxiety!)

I could hardly wait to go to bed and to sleep, and once in bed, I was gone. And my sleep was sweet. I had several dreams that were connected. I seemed to be the leader of a small group of people visiting a smart little Costwolds village—and nothing went wrong. (I led a few tours of Italy for artists long ago, and I’d rented a large studio in Florence, where we were based, so that they could work up sketches they did at sites we visited.)

Consequently, I awoke happy, and even though it’s raining, it feels so good to feel “normal” nothing else matters. After feeling so bad yesterday, I’m excited about enjoying a nice slow day by the fire and with my pets. 

It continues to be warm and today we’re having bright thinly overcast skies and some sunny breaks. Hurrah! Every break from the rain is so, so welcome! And one day, my books will come.

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