So I woke to another sunrise today. And precisely that much is right with the world.
2007 hasn’t been a great year so far, and it’s worse since I’d planned it to be a terrific one. (Had it in Outlook and everything. )Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to live any kind of ‘normal’ life.
In the last few months, the world has turned a terrifying monochrome. Everything is ‘flat’, without colour or depth. I’ve tried amateur boxing, poetry slams, lectures, but nothing’s doing it for me any more.
Anyone who’s been to Burning Man knows the feeling: it’s called ‘burnt’. The way life seems to have the volume turned down after the Playa packs up and you leave the explosions of activity behind. But I haven’t been to the Man in years. I did trek across Egypt last summer – and that, truthfully, is when I started feeling dissatisfied with life.
Churchill called it his Black Dog. The melancholy that hits when you’re least able to deal with it, a monster within whose only goal is to drag you down. I’ve got mine. And it’s rising.