It is a very curious thing that I tried to do everything conceivable to make me hate myself this morning, and instead, for the first time in weeks, I feel quite a lot of fondness for myself. My drunkenly weeping on the tube, then the bus, over the phone to my younger sister, and in the arms of my unsuspecting flatmate, made me such a pitiful sight in my own eyes too, that I don't have the heart this morning to also beat myself up about being a stupid fool. Is there a moral lesson to be taken from this night out where I embarrassed Andrea and was generally inappropriate? Yes, a strange one: I don't sincerely mean to destroy and prostitute myself - it is a complete sham, and it might be better in the future to cry over the phone when sober to my pregnant sister who I have been looking after for weeks and let her look after me a little, as I am tough but not that tough and my wretchedness will out itself somehow or another. And I am tired, and I am lonely Raouf. And I am not just feeling sorry for myself - I am trying be kind to myself and I don't properly know how! And I miss Egypt and I'm not sure what to do about that as I don't have the strength to go back now.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Lesson 1: cry more on public transport
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1 comment:
What is it about London that encourages crying on public transportation? I spent a year of copious and luxuriant weeping on the Tube, where I was the beneficiary of Kleenex and kindness from complete strangers. I have never tried to pull this off in New York for fear of being kicked, or worse - completely ignored.
Elly, my dear, don't despair - you are beautiful and brilliant and full of ideas.
Let's go to Cairo together and drink mango juice standing up.
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