peripathetic

All these people
Last night the clocks were turned back. Not a massive amount of time - just an hour. British Summer Time became the usual Greenwich Mean Time. But it's not mean time. It's rich time, chestnut time, woodsmoke time, silverbreath time - and it meant more. Last night I sat there, got up, paced back and forth. It was a Saturday. I wanted my friends. And they didn't call. So I called them, and they didn't answer, so then I went online, and saw them there, and they came over, and we talked about houses and computers and work. I think about completely different things, but I talk about things like work. I worry about things like work. Particularly when there isn't any.

So, last night I told my friends I'm depressed because... I don't know why, but I'm apathetic too, and I'm having to switch career, and I don't want to switch career. I want to escape career. I want to write. That's really all I want to do. Not out of wanting comfort or an easy life. Writing, creatively, isn't an easy life. It's not comfort. It's not even an escape. It's a fight, with the world, against the world, with others, with yourself. It's a redress. It's a lens. It's work. But it's not a career. And it doesn't make money. And I don't want to have to worry about loads of things anymore. I don't want to have to worry about money. But to be paid money, I'll need to find something that I'd be willing to turn myself off and do for 9 hours a day. And I'm far too much of a misfit to actually be happy with that. So, the world's off-kilter. So, --what? It's always been.

But I told them last night. And I was shaking. And I didn't even know why I was shaking, but I told them and I was, and I don't know whether or not they respect me or are uncomfy with me or are puzzled by me. But there are all these people out there who someday I'm going to meet or work for or work against or love or hate or argue with or snog, and they don't know it. And in a way, neither do I. I just don't know.

This was originally meant to be posted on Sunday but blogger was fucking around.