Fog

[mallorys_camera]

I woke up this morning and couldn't stop crying. Really, it was the oddest thing. I knew I was crying because I was exhausted, because gray fog has been hunkering down for a week now over just this one spot, town and harbor. A mile away you can see blue skies and sunlight, but here it drifts so dense, so close to the ground, it's actually drizzle.

Because I was crying - a physical act my psyche equates with grief - my mind supplied misery. What is the point of being alive? I wondered. It's more of the same old same-old punctuated by occasional adrenalin kicks.

But, of course, What is the point of being alive? is a rhetorical question. I already know the answer.

There is no point.

You have to accept that and get on with things.

Comments

[usedmonsters.livejournal.com]

Yep. But there are the occasional moments when you create some dynamic moment in your life and it all seems exciting, too. Taking risks and being reminded you're alive. It's those occasional adrenalin kicks you wrote of. Remembering impermanence, that you wrote of. Things always change, like the song says, 'grey skies are gonna clear up'.

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Oh, definitely. And thanks for the reminder.

[warhooligan.livejournal.com]

so would that be more like existentialism or secular humanism?
Sorry, Im in a philosophical mood today.

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Duh! I dunno! I tried to take a philosophy class in college, but reading that shit made my eyes glaze over.

[warhooligan.livejournal.com]

hahaha, I love you!
Maybe you should take a trip to the sunlight. Sometimes I really love cloudy days, but I think it feeds into depression.

[wailaki.livejournal.com]

I used to think my life was divided between good days and bad days, and hoped they balanced out. Now I get sudden furtive rushes of pure joy, the kind that used to make my rabbit, Opus, run across the lawn, jump straight up, turn sideways and keep running, only in a different direction. Pure glee. They don't last long, but hey. Just something simple like the evening sun coming through deep ruby red sunflower petals is enough to make me catch my breath. All in all, being alive is a trip.

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Oh, yeah. I get those hits often. It's interesting that it's a visual cue for you -- for me it's often a brief intriguing interaction that suggests a complex narrative arc. The difference between being an artist and being a writer, I guess.

[hipstertrash.livejournal.com]

since i stopped writing ... jesus, has it been 2 months already? ... i've been grappling with the whole "there is no point" realisation, fairly unsucessfully.

i can't remember the last time that my life had no purpose. it's quite possible that there has always been some kind of purpose there, at least since i was old enough to somewhat grasp the concept. or maybe purpose didn't really come into play until rimbaud came into my life. i was 17. his greatest work started when he was 17.

i was never going to live up to it.

i've had a few of the crying jags myself, lately. lots of laying in bed for hours in the middle of the day, or straight after coming home from work.

good mood today, though.

so if there is no point, why do you keep going? apart from max & robin? if you were childless, would you have tossed it in by now, or do you see life as something to keep doing regardless, point or no point?

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

so if there is no point, why do you keep going?

Oh, I don't actually think that. I was just exhausted yesterday -- I've been doing this business thing literally non-stop for a year without a real break -- and yesterday it all just kind of caught up with me. What was bemusing was that I knew I was crying as a kind of physiological tension release but that my mind associates crying with unhappiness so it created unhappiness. Like the Zen masters say, the mind is a monkey.

Didn't realize you had formally Stopped Writing. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

[hipstertrash.livejournal.com]

well, my prose/fiction efforts just kind of sputtered to a standstill, and with the magazine gig reaching its messy end ... i've been writing quite a bit at work, but i don't count 4 page technical documents on policy recommendations resulting from changing legislation as 'writing.'

it's horrible, to tell you the truth, but unavoidable. hopefully, it isn't permanent, but i don't know anything anymore ... my head has been so screwed up, shrinks, medications, withdrawing myself from those medications, etc etc ...

too much to say, really, sitting here at my desk, waiting for my boss to come in and avoid me because he knows that he needs to hustle to get me some work to do. but in a nutshell, yeah, Bad Thing. maybe Good Thing in the long run, depending, but for now, Bad.

[idylld.livejournal.com]

I was driven from the coast by the gray. A couple of cool tea-drinking mornings are OK, once in a while, but a string of them undoes me like nothing else. Even a dyed in the wool melancholic like myself can't feel completely flattened, given a sunny day. You need a vacation, inland.

I wish you cheer, and soon.