Despite having a really great show thisaft--maybe it was because the actors knew they were getting a day off, or the fact we had a show coming in after us on our heels--but we cut 5 minutes off the run time (3 hours 25!!) and were out of the theatre by twenty after seven. But my depressions are on me again, the melancholy has settled on my shoulders like a cloak of darkness and uncertainty. I broke one of the champagne glasses and cursed at the intern and now I've locked myself in my room until I get a grip again. I HATE being like this. Thank God it only happens every now and again--but I feel like I have to take inventory of every tiny little thing and find fault with it. I'm too fat, I'm fooling myself thinking I can write, I can't get organised, my room's a mess, I'm heartsick over the wrong man AGAIN, it's too bloody hot to be believed, every single tourist here has to stop at the top of the escalators to talk about where they're going when I'm trying to get home, I sweat too much, swear too much, talk too much, drink too much, eat too much, think not enough and I could use a history lesson about the Middle East.
Today it smelled like rain. I waited by the window for act three to start and it occured to me that if I had a garden my sunflowers would be taller than me by this point. The mileposts of summer: tomatoes and sweetcorn: are completely missing here.
Please, everyone, update your blogs or email me. It's been so long since I've heard from most of you. And I'm missing home a lot lately.