Just caught the pub scene in Quirke, to get a bit of a taster.
My immediate reaction was oh-my-lord Mr Morgan what happened to your voice it’s-well-yes please.
So deep Dublin I felt the Irish accent thrumming in my frickin’ kneecaps.
I’m really starting to worry about my insomnia. It shouldn’t be this hard to fall asleep, especially when I feel so tired. And getting up in the morning is getting harder, and the sleep I get after nights of broken sleep - even though it might be hours and hours in the end - is incredibly unsatisfying.
Though I cannot be Henry the Fith or Charles the Second yet I endeavor to be Magaret the First. And although I have neither power, time nor occasion to conquer the world… I have made a world of my own.
I can’t sleep.
This is becoming a problem.
PhD application and scholarship forms all signed and delivered, somehow, miraculously, before the deadline.
Now I can relax and sit back and….. NOPE.
Time to go to work.
And when I get back from work I’ll have to do all that seminar prep and write that abstract for that conference and sleep, probably, maybe.
And then I should get on with the next PhD application and scholarship forms…
And the vicious cycle continues.
So this needs to be in my sketchbook:
Just something about Colin Morgan, then Colin Morgan playing Merlin, then Merlin in chainmail - I mean chainmail. Chainmail and leather.
You get me?
You get me.
So I’ve been drawing a lot this evening, and yes, it’s been awhile but still.
It seems that shadows, midtones - we’re cool, crosshatching buddies.
Highlights - why can’t I do you??
I’m nearly 23 years of age.
I should have mastered you by now.
I wish I had a cat to curl up with when I feel sad.
Just so he could be like: ‘Hey dude.’