Overcast, rainy, and then the sun began to come out. The high was 75.9F.
I am struggling to find my way out of the hole of fucking depression I began sliding into about a month ago. It reaches a point I can hardly even be bothered to open my eyes in the morning. It tends to get better late at night. Then there's another morning, another hateful morning. Nevermind the handful of pills I take every day to keep this shit at bay.
But I managed to do one thing today, and after the past four days, that feels like a triumph. Just one little thing. I send a new biography to the editor of Junk Merchants: Volume 2 (Nocturnicorn Books, Sacramento, California), a literary tribute to William S. Burroughs. It's reprinting one of my particularly Burroughs-inspired stories, "Ballad of a Catamite Revolver," and I am immensely flattered. Maybe tomorrow I can force myself to do two things.
Neurochemistry.
This afternoon's film was Tarantino's superb Django Unchained (2012).
“Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand." ~ Sylvia PLath
Please visit the shop. I will sign and personalize any book you buy. Thank you.
Later,
Aunt Beast
11:00 a.m.