relax 27 June 2008
I let it get to me today, which was a waste of the morning, certainly. Then I just had to knuckle down and get on with things, as to ignore them would make the situation a lot worse. Basically, I need an extra sneaky month between now and July, though little hope that miracle will occur. That extra time would sort things. Although simply having more time at my disposal is not quite all that’s needed. I suppose the worst of it is that I had a major crisis of confidence about matters artistic today. I could not see a way of going forward and had a splendid ‘I am a worthless piece of shit’ few hours. Of course, that was also a wallow and nought got done. So, this afternoon I took to the attic – the lads have moved into the house earlier than expected so I was simply in their way moping around downstairs – and there is nothing to do in that attic except pet the cat, tell her the noise and the burly men are okay, and write…which is what I did. I don’t feel that much better about things but at least I have something to show for myself, of whatever quality.
End of self indulgent wallow, I promise.
Besides there’s more writing to be done and the house is still waiting to be packed away downstairs.
Oh, and we’re all going to die – this is the jag that Richard likes least as there is no comeback from it…cos we are…but it makes me laugh (in a really dark way) to bang on about it and a laugh is a good thing, no matter what. Actually I am beginning to titter about that now, in the deliciously melancholic way that I think the Irish share with the Russians, because nothing, really, is funnier than utter misery and the human condition…
Yep, quite happy now. Crikey perversion is good stuff at times.
