29.  Saturday.

Today is worse.  Bleakness, purposeless.  Winter wind and rain outside.  I’m not sure if I can function much longer like this.  Empty barren streets and alleyways.  More photographs of disrupted earth, but why capture them, does anyone want to see?  I want to paint the earth.  Acrylic paint is flexible, plastic, merging, blending, fake.  Tactile, like earth, but not real.  I don’t really relate to painting any more.  Maybe I never did, I just liked the notion of being an artist.

I see now that today is a come-down from contact yesterday.  The knowledge that all days will be like this now.  Distractions work to a limited extent.  Familiarity is good, comforting, then irritating, disabling.  I have to go to other places, I never want to come back.  Insects are un-nerving me, lemons are gathering mould.  I might be able to start to relate to poetry though.  I’ve always dismissed it, claimed that my mind cannot comprehend the rhythms.  Perhaps isolating it into words, phrases, sentences and understanding them first will help.

There has been thunder.  My mind is clearer now.  I’m listening to music again too.  I can’t do it for long periods because it gets confused and noisy but for now it is good.  Later silence will return.

29.  Saturday.

Today is worse.  Bleakness, purposeness.  Winter wind and rain outside.  I’m not sure if I can function much longer like this.  Empty barren streets and alleyways.  More photographs of disrupted earth, but why capture them, does anyone want to see?  I want to paint the earth.  Acrylic paint is flexible, plastic, merging, blending, fake.  Tactile, like earth, but not real.  I don’t really relate to painting any more.  Maybe I never did, I just liked the notion of being an artist.

I see now that today is a come-down from contact yesterday.  The knowledge that all days will be like this now.  Distractions work to a limited extent.  Familiarity is good, comforting, then irritating, disabling.  I have to go to other places, I never want to come back.  Insects are un-nerving me, lemons are gathering mould.  I might be able to start to relate to poetry though.  I’ve always dismissed it, claimed that my mind cannot comprehend the rhythms.  Perhaps isolating it into words, phrases, sentences and understanding them first will help.

There has been thunder.  My mind is clearer now.  I’m listening to music again too.  I can’t do it for long periods because it gets confused and noisy but for now it is good.  Later silence will return.