I'm Back

After a computer-malaise-related absence, here I am. Alright, it wasn't just that. For quite a couple of days I sank into a fatigue of 19-hour-long dream-crammed sleeps and general growling at anyone who disturbed me. I have lived through some dark times and some times brimming with an almost arcadia-like lightness of body and sprit over the last week. Like an exhaustion given into and recovered from. Probably more than like. And my hair looks like it and all. It sit here writing about it and pulling it out. I have sat on the floor of the sitting-room and tired to explain it to my mother, who retreats and says she is worried she will say something that will 'offend' me. Apart from the fact that I am really not the sort of person to be offended by anything exactly, I do understand and applaud her sensitivity - but I think the glass-blanket-of-not-saying of-not-looking of-not-going-near-it like-the-God-in-The-Days-of-The-Comet of it of it is best smashed. The beginning of it in obsessions about the feathers of parrots - the face-feathers of parrots. When I was 5. So I hardly think the thing can be blamed too much on my own will - for what five-year-old has will? But I have been thinking about it as a failure of will. Like an addiction. That is how I find I can best lead people to understand how it would feel. But I MUST GET BETTER. I must find some new and more vogorous obsession before I fall apart like a rotting flower. Writing writing writing (and perhaps what is known as hypomania? hypermania?) yes but the RXHAUSTION of it and the spates of sleeping and growling. So much of my delicious sinking into self-destruction comes I think from my self-strictures, my attempts to be celestially upright and behave PROPERLY. Damn it damn it damn it. This post is as you may imagine more automatically written than is general here - to some perhaps barely perceptible extent. We try - most of us try - now to live without souls. Without any spiritual lives at all. Without even an understanding and cultivating of our own peceptions. Or at least I have done. One is led to ve matter-of-fact - and too much of this, like too much time without dreaming-in-sleep , and we crumble and malfunction. My mother is right(?!?). I need a new obsession.