It’s worn off slightly now, but the glow still kind of lingers on.
What glow? Why, the wacky, wild, weekend wonder, of course!
ok, that was a little weird. Let me explain.
It comes along a few times a month, maybe more if you’re lucky. It’s the feeling of fabulous freedom, the beautiful bliss of a weekend that extends for miles ahead, wild swathes of green pasture that promise nothing but joy… oh what a wonderful world this would be
Every so often, I find myself inexplicably happy, and for an indeterminate period, I can forget about anything that may be going wrong in life, the universe, and everything. I’m not quite sure how, it just creeps up stealthily behind me until suddenly I’m overcome by the most amazing euphoria and I become inexplicably thankful for everything I do have, instead of wallowing in the murky, miry depths of everything I’m not.
Let’s break it down.
1) Splendour has started, people! And even though I can’t be there, I’m comforted by the potential prospects of next year’s pilgrimage, not to mention the far-more-relieving-than-it-should-be broadcast on the j’s. So that’s one good thing.
And look, how can I complain? Snaka, Jinja, maybe regispek, Jungle Giants, Harvest later this year… all’s clear on the concert front.
2) Opening ceremony tomorrow! There’s a beauty in the Olympic spirit that never fails to bring me to tears… I’m not necessarily what you’d call a patriot, but, hey, how can you not be proud? And I’m sorry to say that the sneaky ploys of Visa have shattered my sentimental side with all that “go world” jazz. my god i’m such a slave to commercial manipulation. (note to self, watch more gruen)
And let’s face it, Morgan Freeman could make a cereal carton sound inspiring.
3) There’s something to be said for spontaneous semi-shirtless empty house dancing.
I got a bit carried away. What’s the point of surround sound if you never use it? Hope the neighbours don’t complain.
4) Epiphanies are good, too. Especially when they reassure you that the future is bright and things’ll work out in the end. Or, at least, that you can love both YA lit (of both the trashy and incredible varieties) and “literature” (or, at least, the idea of reading, understanding, and appreciating it at some unforeseen later date. but hopefully uni). John Green, DFW, you people are boss. You ma(k/d)e the world a better place. Or something. (I can’t really express myself like you, soz.)
This is water.
This is water.