It could always be worse than it is right now.
I try not to lose sight of that, but it’s hard to keep it in focus. Like remembering the fact of my own mortality, it requires constant reminders to keep from letting it just drift away over the horizon, like a message in a bottle that no one wants to read.
Bye, bye, my mortality! Write when you get work!
I am embarked upon a period of deep dissatisfaction with the way I am conducting my life, with who I am allowing myself to become. I hope that it will engender a change in my behavior that might result in changing course, but I am not optimistic about that outcome.
Ah, geeze. Listen to me.
What a fucking crybaby.
But whatever the reason, I am mired. I cain’t get unstuck. I won’t.
I’m going to sit in the dirt and draw with a stick and not budge until the world burns away.
What are you up to?