and everyone's talking about it

It's Monday morning and I'm still battling a massive downturn in my thoughts and feelings. The weather is not nearly as gray as yesterday. As I was typing that line above I started thinking that the images for the US project could be coming into the email box as I typed and at that moment I got a couple notices of junk email and then a notice of the arrival of the logos for the US project.

Sadly, that was all for now but I can open up the pictures I've already finished and put the logos on them.

If I get some work to do, it will take my mind off the depressive thoughts I've been having and let me concentrate on doing something worthwhile. That will cheer me up. At least I hope it will.

I had some strange dreams last night or at least this morning. I tried to return to them a few times. It's amazing while I'm in that in-between state I see dreams as something different. Something more concrete and accessible. I see logic where there isn't any. I think I can rewind and manipulate a dream like it's a piece of film in an editor. I've noticed that any number of times. It generally goes where it wants to and frustrates me.

Like now I'm catching glimpses of something attractive to think of. Deep down I think that by capturing it in my mind I will understand more about it and eventually I will gather the threads that I need to make it come true in real life. I see that tiny glimpse in others' works and sometimes in mine but it is elusive.

Something I read the other day. I think it was the Dirk Gently story. I started reading it again and suddenly I was in step with the writer, I understood what was going to come next and it was delightful and fun and I didn't want it to end. Of course, it did, end that is. I set the book down and closed my eyes because I was drifting off just a bit. I don't think I actually went to sleep right then, but I drifted and drifting was very fun.

It's likely that the lovely section of the book I read wasn't as lovely as I thought at the time. It's much more likely that I loved it so much because I was drifting and imagined the link between myself and Doug Adams, now long dead, as I read and drifted. But still I loved the feeling and I remember it well.

I would settle for the illusion and have for many years. I think that was what the drinking was all about. It was the illusion that I was willing to settle for. Why settle for the illusion? Because the reality takes a lot of work. The truth is that work is not enough for some of the things that I dream of. So only the illusion is left.

This is an interesting line of thought, but like all the other lines of thought, I wonder if it is true and repeatable or whether it is only an illusion that I've created for myself right now.

I need to read this again and see if it still sounds as correct as it does now. I've been here before and left a trail of bread crumbs only to follow it back to an empty place where I thought I saw gold.

I suffer from a persistent defect of imagination in which I periodically catch glimpses of creative perfection. A reflection here or a series of tones there. An exquisite sentence accidentally coupled with the earthy scent of an early summer morning. Each perfect in itself, but together, an indescribable construction. I subconsciously believe that I will stumble into an understanding of the perfect story and picture and tune, My mind will finally obey me and the truth will appear at my finger tips. What hope is there for me in this?

Maybe I'm just drifting again. Yeah, that's probably it.

More later,


(Photo by Med Badr Chemmaoui)