mood states fascinate me because they’re the prism we see the world thru, the shape of the hollow inside us which channels our beliefs and fills up like a mould, a cast, its limits defining who and what we are. i know that sounds ill-defined and nebulous. but consider:
i’ve never been depressed but i’ve seen it up close and personal in other close friends and know full well how fortunate i am not to be so haunted, hunted, tortured, paralysed, numbed. the angsty passages i paste up on here are no more than the regretful mumblings i’d be burdening a lover with, just a localized vent for some sympathetic stress relief, mere decoration, emotional blackmail.
so today, then, which stained slowly from within, like an ink burst in an envelope. i dunno. i remember being impressed by some of the extraordinary self-analysis in Palinarus’ The Unquiet Grave – seem to remember there was some extended meditation on most stress breaking down into either memories you regret or tasks you dread. with the ICFTHS comeback looming, my to-do list is eating me alive, and i think this weekend at least, it paralysed me.
i coined this axiom i use to provoke myself: ‘you can lead with yr actions or trail in yr emotions’ (very much following on from the James-Lange theory of physiologically-rooted emotional states). sometimes it’s my only way out. i don’t get much satisfaction from hedonism above and beyond isolated episodes – extending an all-night party into a two-day jag does not appeal. the very idea makes me anxious and irritable, profoundly frustrated. if i’m not productive, if i’ve wondered too far from the self-constructed narrative i use to order my life and give it some meaning, for me at least, it feels like i may as well not be here.
my work rate is ok. nothing special, but tolerable. i work every day, before and after my ostensible job, i have decent focus. but my application of the results (and maybe the whole orientation of how i aim my ends) is a problem. is an obstacle. i build the wall that i crash into.
tomorrow morning i send away the play. i do it purely because it is what one does when one gets to this stage of the process. i have no belief in it, zero, no affection, no pride. i have no expectations for it whatsoever. but i will send it. after all, as has been proved conclusively by a decade of trying to make it, it isn’t my opinion that counts.