Every time I think I've effectively wiped the goo from my shoes and pulled myself from the muck of all that's sticky, making me struggle to move forward with my brain and my life, it gets thicker and stronger...
And truth be told, I've been more complacent with sinking in to the morass and abyss than kicking and screaming to motivate my arms and legs to work even when my head doesn't.
I was pretty manic a week ago. Taking on the world, feeling sunlight in my pores, putting together a sink, going to the same movie four times in same week to see if I missed anything. I bought cement for my brick wall with intention of pointing. Replanted everything, rearranged furniture and cooked too much food. (probably a hundred other things?)
Birthday arrived and I was in Baltimore with a list of things I needed to do and a longer list if things I wanted to see.
In my brain, it was crazy. In my steps, it was happy.
To digress, I found a paper doll puppet in an artomat machine and have been carrying him in my hand, pocket, and handbag to share my adventure. I was motivated again to write a little book for inclusion in the wonderful ker-plunking machine and this time I knew I was gonna get the prototype done!
It all seems like good and no wonder that when I finally take a breath I'm exhausted and spent and not in the mood to cope with one more thing.
But its not a breath, or exhaustion.... Its that crash again. And the thought of being functional in the midst of both the mania and the depression is debilitating.
This morning I woke to read that David Bowie died overnight. 69 years old and that fucking piece if shit parasitic whore called cancer got him. When I read it, I was in disbelief. He just had a birthday! Just released new music for goodness sake!
And then the black gummy molasses-like gunk slowed in viscosity - no longer oiling my mania or gumming up my thoughts in depression. It stopped. Like cooling taffy with which I cant deal.
My brain is stuck even though I feel like a bum not writing when I can knowing this man worked his ass off until the day he died. (not even a little bit comparing myself to bowie... I'm just saying... I don't know why its sometimes so hard)
This blog post even... I wanted a lively announcement that I had decided to move forward with this new little project and assure everyone I was still keeping commitment to upload work on patreon. It just turned into more immobility. More sorting through my actions to figure my feelings? Or my thoughts? I keep forgetting which I have.
Its not a do or do not thing. Some days all I have in me is the trying nonsense.
And truth be told, I've been more complacent with sinking in to the morass and abyss than kicking and screaming to motivate my arms and legs to work even when my head doesn't.
I was pretty manic a week ago. Taking on the world, feeling sunlight in my pores, putting together a sink, going to the same movie four times in same week to see if I missed anything. I bought cement for my brick wall with intention of pointing. Replanted everything, rearranged furniture and cooked too much food. (probably a hundred other things?)
Birthday arrived and I was in Baltimore with a list of things I needed to do and a longer list if things I wanted to see.
In my brain, it was crazy. In my steps, it was happy.
To digress, I found a paper doll puppet in an artomat machine and have been carrying him in my hand, pocket, and handbag to share my adventure. I was motivated again to write a little book for inclusion in the wonderful ker-plunking machine and this time I knew I was gonna get the prototype done!
It all seems like good and no wonder that when I finally take a breath I'm exhausted and spent and not in the mood to cope with one more thing.
But its not a breath, or exhaustion.... Its that crash again. And the thought of being functional in the midst of both the mania and the depression is debilitating.
This morning I woke to read that David Bowie died overnight. 69 years old and that fucking piece if shit parasitic whore called cancer got him. When I read it, I was in disbelief. He just had a birthday! Just released new music for goodness sake!
And then the black gummy molasses-like gunk slowed in viscosity - no longer oiling my mania or gumming up my thoughts in depression. It stopped. Like cooling taffy with which I cant deal.
My brain is stuck even though I feel like a bum not writing when I can knowing this man worked his ass off until the day he died. (not even a little bit comparing myself to bowie... I'm just saying... I don't know why its sometimes so hard)
This blog post even... I wanted a lively announcement that I had decided to move forward with this new little project and assure everyone I was still keeping commitment to upload work on patreon. It just turned into more immobility. More sorting through my actions to figure my feelings? Or my thoughts? I keep forgetting which I have.
Its not a do or do not thing. Some days all I have in me is the trying nonsense.
RSS Feed
