i know that this is a bad state for me, and i am going to go exercise to try & fight thru it. and clean the house, and pay the bills, and make dinner, and then maybe try to write. i’ve got a couple of page of aila waiting in my journal – maybe a good dive into that world will drag me out of this one.
oy. how very.
the ever modish angst-y depression. when does the real experience of emotion get transmuted into the artistic moment, and when does that artistic moment become blase & cliche?