Who knew, living mostly in cities in this life, that birds made so much fucking, (and I do mean that), noise? All night long. I know it is Spring and all, but I was unaware of the cacophony that accompanies egg production in birds. Crazy. It’s not unpleasant and it is somewhat amusing, but it does make sleep challenging. Particularly when I am sad and stressed and not so likely to fall asleep anyway.
On the other hand, the weather is sublimelimelimelime! Caressing, breezy, hopeful. Sumptuous! Delicious! And the peonies are starting to bloom here. I didn't anticipate this treat chez V.
Having laughed to tears at her website, I waited months to borrow the Brooklyn Public Library copy of Allie Brosh's book Hyperbole and a Half Perhaps because I struggle so with depression, I am completely in love with this book. So much of it is perspicacious, resonant and true. And her ability to construct stories out of her experiences is fresh. I could quote so much of, and I well might here, but here's a start: I waited for my turn
It's weird for people who still have feelings to be around depressed people. They try to help you have feelings again so that things can go back to normal, and it's frustrating for them when that doesn't happen. From their perspective, it seems like there has got to be some untapped source of happiness within you that you've simply lost track of, and if you could just see how beautiful things are ...
At first, I'd try to explain that it's not really negativity or sadness anymore, it's more just this detached, meaningless fog where you can't feel anything about anything anymore—even the things you love, even fun things—and you're horribly bored and lonely, but since you've lost your ability to connect with any of the things that would normally make you feel less bored and lonely, you're stuck in the boring, lonely, meaningless void without anything to distract you from how boring, lonely, and meaningless it is.
That's enough for now. I am not feeling great and I think I will repair to the bed for some cats and Proust. First I have to go wash my feet as I am well into barefoot and flip-flop season. JV remarked tonight that my feet reminded him of his grandmother's, who preferred to garden barefooted. We're all peasants.