November 4, 2014
Depression is a bitch. As well as a bastard. Nevertheless nothing is worse than waking up and realizing that someone or something enforced a steel framed dark cloud over you. The weather outside my window is beautiful, but with my little friend “Depresso, ” here by my side, it seems to mock, more than to please me. I would laugh, but it’s too painful. Lately my life does not appear to have a beginning, but just a long delayed ending. It’s akin to being in quicksand, and you’re sinking slowly. You try to grab an object to pull yourself out, but it seems that object, structure, a limb is greased with oil. I just slip back to my place in the mud of shit. Nevertheless, it is Monday, a day of the week that doesn’t have that many fans, and I just have to get on with it.
“Develop success from failures. Discouragement and failure are two of the surest stepping stones to success.” Since I’m at the bottom today, and I’m in the position to gasp for fresh air, I need in order to remind myself that once you’re on the bottom, there is nothing lower than that - except death. Also today being Monday, I had to live on six or so days of misery to get to this point. The last six days I have been dodging and running away from “Depresso,” but he always catches up with me on Monday. In the Netherlands, it seems more people commit suicide, or call in sick, or even worse, surf the Internet on Mondays. I think my source of depression is the fear of wasting time. Time is money, and therefore I do not have money. And “Depresso” always remind me of that fact. I just have to keep in mind that “most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.” The big question right now, am I one of those people who can keep on trying?
The hours drag on, and I’m too anxious to be bored. I feel the day can exist without me, and that alarms me the most. I sit here and have a cup of coffee with “Depresso,” and it seems he wants to embrace me with his arms. I can’t bare the thought of “Depresso” touching me, especially to be trapped in his hold. I know he doesn’t exist as a person, but somehow making him into a 3D figure, it becomes more real to me. Otherwise I am just facing a huge void. I can feel that void sucking me into its entrance, and once entrapped in that non-world, what will become of me? I obsess about the silliest things. When my neighbor Forrest J. Ackerman passed away, I was concerned about his collection. What will become of it? It only made sense when it was put in place in his Los Feliz home. If it was sold, piece-by-piece, his collection will become meaningless. The thought of spending one’s life in obtaining objects, books, and …well, stuff and then what happens when you die? I have a full music and book library, but it’s only significant when the collection is intact. Once removed, it becomes just another item. It is only important when someone attaches themselves to that object.
“I begin with writing the first sentence - and trusting to Almighty God for the second.” My life is from one sentence to another. The fear of not coming up with that sentence is deathly to me. “You can conquer almost any fear if you will only make up your mind to do so. For I must remember, fear doesn’t exist anywhere except in the mind.” Since I can’t change my fortunes, I can only write, and hopefully write myself out of my despair. “Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.” So perhaps all of this will pass… or not.