#uncoffeed...

Deconstructed Corvid 3 - in progress Hi, guys. I'm tired. Having circumnavigated depression all my life (there's something to be said for vitamin D in this regard, and you're not getting enough ) it's not a new feeling, and it's frankly frustrating that I'm still here. Or here again, however you want to do the math. I suck at math. It's interesting to watch other people react. One friend is using the Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle to identify stages of isolation frustration. Isolation Frustration - that song needs to be written. People are reconnecting with music from their formative years. Trying new recipes, maybe reconnecting there, too, with old family favorites. Planning the future with no firm parameters. It's clear to me that many people have never experienced this degree of separation before. I've witnessed a couple meltdowns on social media, and I tell them it'll be okay like you tell a person who thinks they're drowning t...

A dire realization kept pulsing up from the deepest recesses of my mind, id and superego conspiring against me. I wanted more, and I couldn’t tell myself more what because the math was bad. Traveling artist, traveling musician, multiple levels of baggage and an old-school Encyclopaedia Britannica-sized stack of things unknown. Jeffrey on paper looks good, but what’s under his bed?  Something primal had taken over. The daydream couldn’t be supported and yet I was unable to let go of it.  I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to break up with someone I literally wasn’t seeing.  I had to break up with this house. This is, in a way, one of the messiest breakups I’ve ever had because my mess isn’t real. It’s allegorical paint splashed over a bloody crime scene, such vivid and leaky whorls as will not leave their tinct. Maybe I’ve done what I do and pushed too far again, impulsive; maybe this was always the end. But I’m not comfortable here anymore. I’ve made it weir...