I'm not sure I've ever felt this at home before. If I did I'm sure I wouldn't remember and besides I would know it wasn't pernament. The state of mind, the material conditions the social oppurtunites, all changing all the time. Not so much as up and down as exploding or imploding. The meds are probably helping, working on the delusion that most of it never happened. I had to cling to it very tightly then it was a crutch. Now its not needed, I have a place, a place that's as unconventional, akward, pretty and intimating as me. Recently I've been told 'I love you' 10-20 times a day. He can forgive me for being grumpy sometimes, so can I. Drugs can be good. But I'm no where near trying out the coil for the pain yet. a coil to help discomfort, does it leak morphine? My star crossed mind gives me afterpains at the very thought.
My god I over commit myself sometimes, acting like I have to live in a way that pleases the social worker, this or that doctor or an estraged friend. At the same time I have to fighting for 'the' cause, shinning a light of pure justice on the horror at the heart of western civilisation and it's 'progressive' institutions.
Or I could go for a walk over the bridge I always thought was cool and make some cakes with my mum's free range eggs and notice that its not happening anymore.
Bollox look at this place its lovely, so lovely the said Spitting Image puppet of a social spotted the asperburgers as soon as she walked in. I can never sleep at this time of year anyway, even without the Arab Spring and the upcoming tribunal.
I'm loving this broadband, I feel connected therefor I no longer need to watch al jeezera like the world is about end. There will be more revolutions tomorrow. Go to bed, write essays, TALK TO YOUR CHILD..
Another wonder of prescribed meds less obsessing about debt, fuck them. Need to use ma wee weights soon though, really, very soon...
Did I mention my brain muscle is feeling better??
I've got an essay that almost finished and isn't due for over a fornight. I've decided just to wing the philosophy. Started a new poem last night, called 'New Poem' I think it's promising and a step forward. Not much happening with Novel.. Where do I start, what can go in the middle and how the fuck would I end it. It's the thought of writing the ending that keeps bringing it back to mind. There couldn't be an ending in non fiction, just a repreat of what came before - not helpful.
Merry spring x