That fascinating ‘fizziness’ that sometimes happens as a wave retreats and before the next one rolls in.

Apologies for blip contravention…this was taken a couple of weekends ago.

A bit less grim although it’s hard to know what differentiates any of it any more … but there had been little let up since this blip https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/3183785052655848641

It’s hard not to try to search out reasons, and, apart from ‘the bleedin’ obvious’ https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=397979792349468
… it might be attributable to the relentless of work. I’m not sure I can keep going with it, saturated, feel crap and fraudulent most of the time. And then there’s the mistake of reflecting on my colleague’s more recent loss and thinking I haven’t got anywhere in all these years, just survived rather than lived, and then the inevitable feeling of the futility of it, and then the inevitable follow on thinking of ‘time to jack it all in now … after all, it’s just downhill with skates on’. 

Inevitably the ‘hit list’ stacks up with a nicely entrenched depressed state. It’s predictably tedious. The disconnection, lack of impetus and motivation, the sheer bloody tedium of having to make it all up, the shame of it, more especially given the state of the world’s suffering, and the eternal unending, sheer unadulterated pain of not having children … don’t ask me what that’s about but the profundity of it is absurdly visceral. 

Milton’s right, the mind is its own place and can make a heaven of hell, or a hell of heaven …
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_nc1IVoMxc

I’ve returned to reading a bit of Andrew Solomon who I first encountered about 20 years ago …. https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/first/s/24solomon.html?scp=9&sq=Noonday%2520Show&st=Search

After my big birthday in December it’s my sister’s big one next week (ten years ahead of me). My niece and I have been planning a surprise get together. As it’s a long trek and I’ve holiday to take I’ve decided to take the week and booked somewhere I’d never normally consider. It has a view. Part of me feels that once I’ve got there and lived with that view, albeit just for a week, that will be it. I will have arrived and will be content to sign off. I am already so blended into the landscape it would just be another indistinguishable wash of a watercolour brushstroke. It would be seamless.