2007 - What Goes Around Doesn't Come Around Necessarily
April 2007 - writing from the darkness - reprinted to remember the reprieve however subtle.
Would like to start this log without the use of I at the beginning. Here. It’s the day of all things sodden and low, where a thousand thoughts of how to escape are rambling through my mind. I’m losing it once more, the panic sets in and there is no rest. I did manage to sleep and not twist myself into a night of despairing insomnia – but at roughly 4 awakened by mati attacking chichi and chichi screaming – so I got up and opened the door for the frisky mati and returned to bed to sleep. Felt drugged. Could have been the chai tea I made before sleeping – goats milk, honey, black tea, cinnamon and gram massalah. Potent. Now day after, the depression is hitting me way on the head and feel like offing self. Just see no way out. Rock bottom a one more time. And am eating carbs to take the edge off and drinking almost a bottle of red. This is a go between place of neither here nor there. Where am I and where I am going to? Everyday, same thing. Same experiences and same internet, food, rest, cat, worry. And I am supposed to write a book about gathering stones in the desert from eons ago and the berries in the Catskills and the wildfires in tzfat and the guns and knives brandished in the hills of judea and the cutting down of trees.
Would like to start this log without the use of I at the beginning. Here. It’s the day of all things sodden and low, where a thousand thoughts of how to escape are rambling through my mind. I’m losing it once more, the panic sets in and there is no rest. I did manage to sleep and not twist myself into a night of despairing insomnia – but at roughly 4 awakened by mati attacking chichi and chichi screaming – so I got up and opened the door for the frisky mati and returned to bed to sleep. Felt drugged. Could have been the chai tea I made before sleeping – goats milk, honey, black tea, cinnamon and gram massalah. Potent. Now day after, the depression is hitting me way on the head and feel like offing self. Just see no way out. Rock bottom a one more time. And am eating carbs to take the edge off and drinking almost a bottle of red. This is a go between place of neither here nor there. Where am I and where I am going to? Everyday, same thing. Same experiences and same internet, food, rest, cat, worry. And I am supposed to write a book about gathering stones in the desert from eons ago and the berries in the Catskills and the wildfires in tzfat and the guns and knives brandished in the hills of judea and the cutting down of trees.
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