Cue Doctor Who quote, but that's appropriate as I feel like a series about to be cancelled (the first time). Lockdown in London is not going well — whereas some of you are probably feeling lonely, I can cope with isolation, I am really prepared for that. A champion self-isolator in fact, could self-isolate for the Olympics, I have worked at home for months before and been three years unemployed. So I can cope with this new world...sort of.
What I wasn't prepared for is the forced socialisation of being a mouse in a cage with another mouse. Tiny flat, small shared garden...it's not good. Also having my dreams and hopes smashed by COVID-19 — see the previous post about my art 'career' in happier times. My business is pretty much stopped, I can't do the exhibitions I planned, it feels like the Universe is laughing at my vain attempt to pull myself out of the pit of despair of longterm unemployed and into something brighter. It is fucked, basically.
Some people from my past are probably enjoying that fact and holding Schadenfreude Parties in celebration. I realised a sizeable chunk of the BML/LJ bears were sadly NOT my friends over the last decade or so, more of a frienemy/enemy situation, acquaintances who didn't really care — talking of the people who are not on my friendlist and some are even blocked on all platforms (you know who you are). It's my fault partly - so desperate to belong to a group of people, I let a lot of bad shit and salty behaviour slide. I don't put up with toxic people anymore, rather be alone than accept that co-dependent mess.
Hence why I don't post here much, bad memories. This is a common theme recently, there are some surprises at those during this crisis who have come forward, people who I'd not been close to but will in future. But some who are unsurprisingly bad at being a friend who were also on my mentally questionable list — usually the middle class people have devolved into 'Let Them Eat NHS Claps' privilege and moralising, to those who have ghosted me even in a pandemic where I am at risk...oh yes, I am fairly high-risk of this virus too as a asthmatic. Every cough — and us asthmatics get loads of those — is Good Cough/Bad Cough panic games.
It's like this virus has held a lens up to all my friendships and relationship and I'm not sure I like most of what I see. *sigh* Karma will get them in the end, those bitter selfish people always do themselves an injury...why I try — and usually fail nowadays — to not be a bitter queen. Not a good place to be but anger is all I've got left.
So yes, still doing the art — only thing that's keeping me sane although I don't see the point atm. Going through the motions, because no future to that work, can't sell it, can't make a business, and the emotions I see on the page are starkly depressing and the darkness is neither appealing nor commercially sensible — but the latter doesn't matter anyway. My career has crashed and burned. Thanks COVID-19! Wish it was happier news...at least I survive, but sometimes I wonder if that is a cruel joke, like the whole galaxy could go supernova and I'd somehow still be here, a Sisyphus toy of the gods.