My somatic health this morning has given lead to a little bed-bound uncomfiness, but i have risen from such a trapping just enough to get some work done and feel a little productive. And how else to feel productive than to rant a little about my current state of mind. This is never a good sign.
Ach i’m okay. Every now and then i like to consider an interesting, pleasurable sounding phrase or sentence, with lots of erratic clicks and crashing of letters or, indeed, the melodious flow of syllable or allitrative literacy… and use it to describe my headspace.
Today that sentence was a cascade of twigs, which then led me to expand it to include branchs and nuts. So “Branches, twigs and nuts” is me, right now. Why? Can i explain it? Um. I shouldn’t need to, i can write what i want. But if i had to, really have to, then… well, i guess i feel like the look of an erratic pile of broken branches is how i feel on a constant, day to day basis. Patternless, formless, aimless, messy, damaged, cracked, or, indeed my favourite, fractured. And the size of the things in my head are reflected as serious – branches, solid trunks of wood (like financials, car price, weight, mother, loneliness, esteem and ego inferiority, misery, lack of motivation, inability to cope with social scenarios, terrified of going to work, my mountainous paranoia, all that sort of thing), mixed with twigs – the trivialities (like current TV episodes i want to watch, friends’ stag dos, get togethers and weddings that i need to attend, writing deadlines i want to meet but don’t have the enthusiasm for, that sort of thing), and then the nuts, which are the productive bits. The ‘pros’ in amongst the haystack of ‘cons’. Having a kick ass movie in production that i’m involved with (see chaosbox.uk), enjoying watching the above TV, all that. Little things that i need to make bigger in order to get through the day without crying.
Last night is a prime example of the unpredictability of the branches and twigs, and the kerplunk-nature of complete rearrangement without warning. Watching Star Trek: Picard and then moments after suddenly wanting all the lights off and just to sit in the dark silence for an hour or two. I didn’t think about anything, except my own crushing paranoia. The usual nonsence; people think i’m at it, people think i’m a fraud, whats the point in anymore, will there be an end to all this? Unnatural, impractical idiotic thoughts.
This morning i woke up dreamless, to be thinking i have an amazing set of friends i will be spending time with over the course of the next two months. Plus i might be moving. (thats a secret, shhhh). Oh and i read an article (or rather, my Alexa read me an article) about the Ark of the Crayfish.
Okay, boyo. Be productive today. Go earn £25 eating food and write some more. Then maybe make a bash at your X-files book “Ruins” (Kevin J Anderson). And later, maybe you’ll get to review Assassins Creed: Odyssey. It deserves it.
Go away.
the FANGG of HORROR ROCK 