a little death

So today I taught until early afternoon and then I was so tired I went home and lay in my bed for the rest of the day (which is a terrible waste of a Saturday afternoon!). I even had a semi-delirious dream where Robert De Niro passed by and said he he didn't know who I was but perhaps my problem was with 'my leg'. He said the word 'my leg' in a way which made it obvious that 'my leg' was code for something else which I can't work out. If he is referring to my existence here in Basel then perhaps he is right. It's sad but I am always happy when the weekend comes round but then it gets here and I have absolutely no one to see and nothing to do. Yes I have finally made a few friends here in Basel but they have their own lives on weekend and I find myself wondering what I am doing here. In many ways this city is synonymous with pain and disappointment for me and I think the time has come for me to go. I cannot pass my life here anymore.
It is like a little death.

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You know they often say writers thrive on pain and I think sometimes a little bit of drama does spur them on but right now I just feel too low to write about dancing polar bears or fortune-tellers by the name of Esmerelda O...and this, I feel, is a little shame.