Is it I or is this seasonal change draining the energy out of ambition and momentum? I can’t seem to get anything done. I am not hollow, just low energy. Every year around the vernal equinox, I have problems adapting to the non-angle of the sun or zero tilt of the planet. I am listless at best. I am easily caught seeking pointless searches or infinite rounds of Majong (3.5 minutes at the most difficult level.)
Today, I think I spent 3 hours searching for a revolving bookcase for the living room and a unified soap dispenser for the shower. What the fuck? I am shrinking and organizing my household again? The OC is strong when my energy levels are low. It is an excuse not work on something difficult. Although I feel I am progressing towards a utilitarian, semi-automatic urban lifestyle, deliberation, distraction, or delusion–maybe, I’ve all three at once?
I want to clear clutter in our 1920’s shower stall, and I am attempting to shrink the Skandia bookcases. They are old and showing their age, discolored and dinged up, and although extremely flexible, too tall for earthquakes. A compact, high density, revolving bookcase is not in fashion. I’ve found them in Italy and Denmark for $3k-7k, and I can’t justify the expense for convenience. I could build one, but I don’t have space or enough experience.
I am at Gallery Café on Russian Hill across from the Cable Car Museum. I had to get away from my obsession, and thought I could get the next chapter in Feather in the Tar. Every sentence I write is clunky at best and passive at worst. I correct and the soul goes out it. I plan to attempt ambitious text/graphic hoop jumps (too much ambition?), and my lack of energy triggers fear and doubt. I don’t know if I can do what I envision, and I am not looking forward to the let down.
Even music cannot dispel this stupor. First, I try the Oyster Band, Little Rock To Leipzig (in the spirit of the holiday), 2nd I try the Bad Plus (too slow), 3rd Jim Noir, title effort (too vapid), so I settle on Pink Floyd, Meddle, and chug tepid coffee.
I probably should have spent the day in a self-induced coma. I just want to get through it as quickly as possible and return to the demons of my dreams: such as spiders, prison guards keeping me out of hell, nude final exams when I never went to class, or showing up at old jobs looking for a schedule and there I am.
I could join the green beer up-chuck with Irish whiskey and green hair, but I’ve a blood test and physical in two days. I should stay sober. Damn, no green, no jig, no pinches, and no blarney kisses. I need the equinox to pass. I need a vacation. I need to sleep and dream.