I’m going to quit the internet for a while. I need to think and my constant I/O habit isn’t helping. You’ll still be able to reach me, because my cutting social ties isn’t a good idea, but I probably won’t blog a lot. Let’s say for at least the rest of the week.

Tonight one of my drug/Vegas friends and I talked psychedelia and then he ran a depression checklist on me, ending, “I’m sorry to hear about your lack of motivation.” That set me to processing — I hadn’t heard it before.

Why, exactly, have I been unwilling to do anything for 11 months? Fear of more failure, certainly. I’m trying to be okay with failure — he mentioned the quote that life is about failing at progressively bigger things. I’m trying to learn to enjoy the pain, but a superpowered superego and a bastard of a life situation doesn’t make that fun.

I’m getting to the end of my rope — thinking I should take a hard look at things. Obviously oscillating between crushing failure and crushing boredom is a terrible way to live. Gotta come to terms with the fundamental absurdities, etc. I’m going to run a cognitive behavioral therapy pass on myself, probably involving sitting in the park with my notebook for a day or two. “Is this a useful way to think?”, etc. I just hope I can next-level the shit out of my own brain — If anyone can, it’s me.

The ennui has me in its warm embrace and I just want to quit, but you know the saying: If you’re bored then you’re boring. I’m coming to the death of hope, or maybe the birth. Yeah, “welcome to humanity”, I know. Doesn’t make it easier.

The Zevon helps, and he’ll be coming along on the MacBook.