Archive for December 17th, 2005

Disordered Thoughts

There is a great joke in Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland. It goes:

How many people with MS does it take to put in a light bulb?

Answer: Five million – one person to do it, and four million nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine to write depressing on-line web logs.

Writing about being sick comes naturally. Quite a common theme in the private correspondence of 19th-century writers is disease and infirmity. Troublesome boils, weeping carbuncles and the like.

So there is a precedent for writing about illness. Luckily, I have no pustulating sores to detail, but I think I may have this.

Over the last number of years I have seen a regular pattern emerging: leaving home in the dark and arriving home from work in the dark, I lose all motivation to do anything of any consequence.

Whereas during the rest of the year I spend a fair amount of time reading, listening to music and (for the first few months of this blog) writing, I have managed to read about 3 books in the last 2 months and have been treading water blog-wise. I have listened to the same album for the last 3 weeks, simply because I can’t be bothered changing to something else (Twin Cinema, by the New Pornographers. I suppose it could be worse. One year it was American III by Johnny Cash. Try listening to ‘I See A Darkness’ and ‘The Mercy Seat’ ten times a day for a month and see how you get on.) .

In work, where I am hardly the most conscientious of drones normally, I cannot summon the wherewithal to do anything. When other people say ‘I did nothing today’, they mean that they did little by comparison to what they usually do. When I come out of work these days and say the same, it is because I have done nothing. Nada. Rien. Niente. If you were to ask me how much money I earn a year, an honest answer would be three quarters of my salary.

Oh well. Only another 5 days to go before we start noticing a stretch in the evenings.

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December 2005
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