Two people in the last 24 hours have told me that I should start thinking happy thoughts in order to relieve my depression.
Whoa. Great idea why didn’t I think of that? Damn I’ll get right on it.
Are you fucking kidding me…?
In other news…. was able to sleep in my own bed last night. The bad part was that I was of course alone. Again. Naturally.
I must say it’s a hell of a lot better than my couch though. No AC in the bedroom but the bed itself is mighty fine.
The summer heat in Reno is merciless. I’ve no spa to dunk my head into or sprinklers to run through. The past few months in TKs backyard spoiled me.
On the other hand it could be worse. Lizzie Borden is a Persian and that poor beast must be combed every day or she explodes fur like a time release hair freshener –rim shot-.
Been up since 5:45 this morning which is a record for the past week. My internal clock is all kinds of fucked up (hmmmm don’t say it) and this is the latest I’ve slept in days.
As the sun rose I sat outside with coffee and a cigarette –yeah another bad habit picked up in the last 6 months- finishing an essay by Noam Chomsky on B.F. Skinner.
Good Morning America? The Daily Buzz? Nay say I!
Here’s to a ciggie, coffee and words of a brilliant mind to begin a day.
Actually considered going to the gym first but that will wait until later. I’ve not put on any weight but my clothes don’t fit for hell. The extra baggage has shifted into areas not equipped with hand rails.
The problem with strenuous exercise when I’m depressed is this:
When the endorphins kick up I may not get that rush of positive high feelings. Instead, my mind sometimes goes the other way and I sob uncontrollably.
Bad form at the gym doncha know. It’s a pain in the ass wiping down the elliptical when you’re done but toweling up the tears is just plain embarrassing.
Have to work today for awhile besides hitting the gym. Was going to cook chili but have decided to throw away all of the meat I’d purchased.
I’ve no desire to cook for just myself. What’s the point.
I can’t bring any to share with a friend which was my original intention.
Already did the one-time-only pathetic shot of showing up without being invited.
You know, very childish teenage behavior. I was humiliated of course and made zero points.
I consoled myself with the knowledge that everyone in the history of men and women has done this at least once in their lives.
It’s when you make an unannounced visit more than once, or drive by an ex’s house, or continually make phone calls that you slide into stalker territory.
Ugh. I’d rather eat broken glass ala rusted razor blades.
So, I’ll continue to eat my Dreyer’s frozen fruit bars, try to write, finish up Tinfoil Hat Guy’s site, and think thoughts of tweeting birdies, puppies, kittens, smiling chipmunks and sunny happy days.
Scratch that last part.
Cognitive health indeed. I’m a clinically depressed misanthrope and while I am inconsolable over losing my best friend, watching the quail and discussing the universe I will surely drink Drano if forced to consider allegedly happy good thoughts.
Beethoven: Symphonien Nos. 5 & 7 / Kleiber, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
By: Ludwig van Beethoven
Release date: 23 January, 1996