So I don't post to this blog very often these days. I don't post anywhere these days, really.
I don't make music any more.
I don't really take photos too much; when I do, they sorta
I've gone kinda silent.
You see, the painful truth is that
even though I'm not an entirely self-delusional guy
you know, I pay attention to how fucked up I am
and even though I see a head-shrinker, and I talk crap out with some of my friends.
Well, you see, that pesky clinical depression has reared its ugly head again.
I choose the words carefully because I'm not exactly blue -- hell, we're all blue once in a while, and we're all sad once in a while, and we're all tired once in a while, and a lot of us feel hopeless anytime that we're
oh, paying attention.
But I say clinical depression because I've got some experience with it. I've had it before, and it manifests itself very differently from sadness or the other emotions that I've described. It's painfully physical in some ways. Depressingly physical.
Anyway, I thought I'd throw this up on the ol' mulescreen because this blog is not just moribund, it's actually dead. Deader than a doornail.
But doornails, like Nikki Sixx, can be brought back to life.
I'm hoping to bring this blog back to life soon.
But I won't be talking about politics anymore. You see, I'm more convinced than ever that you're all as convinced that you're right as I'm convinced I'm right.
And I don't intend to post anything about climate change, or football. I don't support climate change, and I don't support football. At least not American football.
Of course, my goddamned girlfriend went and ruined y perfect record -- I'd made it through THE ENTIRE NFL season without seeing a minute of football. And then yesterday, when I said that we should watch it since there'd be people in her office dying to talk about it, she allowed that she was interested.
So we wtched the last couple of minutes of a game.
She'll have one disappointed office, and I'll be one disappointed puppy.
Not just disappointed -- depressed.