Mental breakdowns have a rhythm and structure, like a pop song or an animal's digestion.
In the eye of a storm that's been slow going... Tears welling in the corners of my eyes and staying there all day. Staying in bed for all hours of the day as though I'm in the third day of some trans-continental jetlag or world-class cold but no, it's just that thing that happens on the regular. Every few months now I find myself in this state. It stays for longer or shorter periods of time, claiming rule for however long it pleases. It beats me up very bad and I suffer a total loss of confidence to accomplish anything but the bare minimum - putting on my pajamas and reading books in bed.
I have to look desperately in my bookcase for anchors to hold my attention because sadly I have collected a lot of subpar books. In times like this there is really nothing else that can help except something... good. Good not in the sense that it has won awards or is written by a celebrated author nothing of that sort at all. I just need to hear the right voice edited with respect and care. Taste is subjective and god knows I happily purchase books with all kinds of stickers or recommendations on the cover but no, no, no, No, NO, I can't do another page by the end of Chapter 2. The characters annoy me and I completely distrust the author. I think about never going back to the bookstore again. These disappointments take their toll on me and put me out for days. Anyway, I can't afford to spend more money on books at this point in time.
Thankful that there are stars like Patti Smith and Jack Kerouac that I in better days had the good sense to stock up on. Time to give Jack his own little bookcase and I will look for a little cross to hang in its corner. Sweet Saint Jack. Patti is still alive, and I'm very glad for it. The thought of her writing in a cafe with a notebook and cup of coffee on the table is comforting at a time like this.
I respect writers and I envy their writer lives. But I only write when I am very sick or very sad.
In the eye of a storm that's been slow going... Tears welling in the corners of my eyes and staying there all day. Staying in bed for all hours of the day as though I'm in the third day of some trans-continental jetlag or world-class cold but no, it's just that thing that happens on the regular. Every few months now I find myself in this state. It stays for longer or shorter periods of time, claiming rule for however long it pleases. It beats me up very bad and I suffer a total loss of confidence to accomplish anything but the bare minimum - putting on my pajamas and reading books in bed.
I have to look desperately in my bookcase for anchors to hold my attention because sadly I have collected a lot of subpar books. In times like this there is really nothing else that can help except something... good. Good not in the sense that it has won awards or is written by a celebrated author nothing of that sort at all. I just need to hear the right voice edited with respect and care. Taste is subjective and god knows I happily purchase books with all kinds of stickers or recommendations on the cover but no, no, no, No, NO, I can't do another page by the end of Chapter 2. The characters annoy me and I completely distrust the author. I think about never going back to the bookstore again. These disappointments take their toll on me and put me out for days. Anyway, I can't afford to spend more money on books at this point in time.
Thankful that there are stars like Patti Smith and Jack Kerouac that I in better days had the good sense to stock up on. Time to give Jack his own little bookcase and I will look for a little cross to hang in its corner. Sweet Saint Jack. Patti is still alive, and I'm very glad for it. The thought of her writing in a cafe with a notebook and cup of coffee on the table is comforting at a time like this.
I respect writers and I envy their writer lives. But I only write when I am very sick or very sad.
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