10.26.24 – Wake me when it’s over

Not another of those nights!

By those I mean wakeful, fearful, anxious, distrustful, self-distrustful, zestless, helpless, wondering why on earth I or we are here. A mini-onslaught of depression, you might say, which I’m pretty sure will pass – it’d better! – but oh, the outlasting it, the tedium, makes me want to wring its neck – or my own. I know all the arguments to counter this assault – I need only reread my own buoying advice – only, sense is no defense against self-pity. I’m in for it, this common cold of the soul, it must run its course while I buckle in for the ride. 

Writing helps – Right yourself by writing yourself, Carll’s adage number one – but not all that much. God forbid anyone should read the groaning pages in my journals – at least while I’m still around to poke fun at. Literary and spiritual sludge – worse than worthless – which I knew as I scrawled – yet sometimes words like vomit or volcanoes must erupt – and it’s vile – but one feels better after, though still glu…