I Wrote For Luck

The coffee night rolls on, with no sign of ending. I listened to a few of Richard Herring's Leicester Square podcasts. The last one was with Alexi Sayle, excellent. I love hearing comics talking about the mechanics and the reality of what they do. I've been through the MS snit of' "I can fucking do that!' and I now enjoy examining how the job is done, despite the fact that it is unlikely I will ever do it again. Bollocks. If I get the chance, I'm definitely going to do it.
 The one I know is over, is acting. I cannot physically trust myself to do what is needed. I'm not even that upset, I knew it was something that would come to an end, and I enjoyed it while I could.
I'm just beginning to realize that living under the threat of certain death, I read the warning for Tysabri again, is actually quite freeing. I'm beginning to put myself back in some sort of physical order, turns out exercising is really good. I'm late to that party, and I've only bought a bag of crisps, not a potluck. I'm still happy to be here, and I'll enjoy all the other food people bought with them, with no guilt whatsoever.
I'm lucky, I always find something else to do, and I've built a skill set that I can move around. To do what exactly? No idea, but it'll turn up.