I want to again though, hopefully soon. I want to be productive here, I want to share, I want to keep building on The Name Forthcoming, the monument to my interests, to my obsessions and compulsions, but there's no energy for it right now.
I'm spending my time reading, and trying to read, mostly.
I write down the titles of everything I finish; novels, comics, short stories and all, and I've read over 70 of those alone over the last few months (some of those only a page or 2, but still). Don't ask me how many of those will stick in my memory, because I suspect more than a few of those were forgotten as soon as their final sentence rolled by.
Though I'm cramming more literature into less time than I did since the same time last year, I should reveal that this is because I'm in a very different place as to last year, in my life, I mean.
I lost my job. Because of my Autism.
It is that simple.
It's been very bad since then. Mentally and physically.
I've been struggling pretty much every day with what happened, why it happened, what it meant, and what it will mean for the future.
I'm still not there yet. I have no answers, I have no plans, no desire and no drive.
I've easily slipped back into the state where I just don't interact with the world. There's been a few times that I really tried again but on the whole... I'm in the hole.
I'm again at the point where I want everyone to leave me alone.
It is the failure of the world, the failure of others, compounded with my own, that has made me this way. I am like I was once before in the place I always was before. It is an old place, and one that should be familiar. A place that should enable thinking and writing, that should enable the blog, but I get nothing.
It's just not working. Not at all. Nothing still bears any import. There's no point.
I'm in a very bad place still. Obviously.
But slowly I'm coming back from it. Every day is a chore.
So for now, I'm being easy on myself. I'm slowly getting back to it. But it's still very difficult.
What I'm doing now when I read is pure escapism. In and out, no excess thought required, rinse and repeat.
I've managed to post some stuff already, and there'll be more of course, but for right now I'll forego the deep explorations that I used to enjoy so much.
Short and snappy thoughts on stuff that I read will do.
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Whenever I feel bad I tend to do something with my hair. It's therapeutic.
It's also a statement. It says 'for me and for no-one else'.
And nothing say 'fuck off' like a damn skinhead.
And you know. It's not all horrible.
This lil' bitch has been a huge help.
Isolation is perfectly fine as long as you have a dog.
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Bonus picture: Saffy is not amused.
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