“Yesterday I hit the hay hard. I was tired in a way that was everything…”
depression
Maybe there’s a good time and place to fuck up, I was lucky to fuck up there and then. But there’s no luck in finding a good time to talk. Lesson learnt: Always open up sooner.
“That bucket holding the Christmas behind me, it’s a well of loved memories to draw from. And as I sit in the living room he sat in, with glasses on just like he wore, with his slippers that I’ve now named as mine… I’m a placeholder, same as his new living state…”
“Our natural defences set up as default, waiting for next bad to react to. Could this be our Catch 22? I experienced it, so now I expect? Is this why I link up the bad bits and seem to see everything as a threat..?”
“So if nothing else was gained about choices or boxes or survival techniques (or the wisdom or healing power of either), there is always the power of Rik Mayall. In his two-fingered anarchy we trust…”
“While the swamp settles in and the mud’s warm and easy, I forget, shit, I’ve actually DONE stuff. I kick myself for ignoring the joy that I’ve found creating and making and producing…”
“So let’s just give the fuck its banana. We may as well acknowledge its presence. And who knows we might even get on…”
“The point of all this is not to rinse laundry. Or to raise any woe-is-me sympathies. The point of all this is to show that it’s easy, too easy, to connect all bad dots and get blinded….”
“This could so easily slip into twee, into over-glossed saccharine and cuteness, but instead there’s a rich seam of warm simple sounds that worm their way into your anvils…”
“Plasticine sofas once padded and smooth grow limbs like The Thing and turn ugly. From comfort to crutch to constraint, it’s a frightening and fearless transition…”
Rats on the Run 