This was the first time I ever called my shrink just because I had to talk to someone. I've never done that before. I feel needy and annoying. Suicidal ideation is back and I am having all manner of trouble staying in control of myself.
My medications have changed and I think it is obviously causing problems. I don't know just what to do about that save to try and endure until things get better. Ultimately, that is my entire life of late endure in hopes something improves. If the universe would just accommodate me and improve itself
I have had the urge to write more strongly than I have felt it in years yet I find myself unable to write either poetry or prose. It used to be a release of sorts for me but I so seldom find myself filled these days that this particular spillway seems unneeded. I can hear the cracks now yes, I know you've always thought that I was full (of it) it is bad when I set myself up for this shit.
I heard today that a friend in Florida passed away. She was nearly 95 years old, so it can hardly come as a surprise. Mourning the passing of those with whom you have lost touch is a particularly morose operation.
Clara and I watched the sky from her balcony. She lived in one of those "ghetto" hi-rises on Biscayne Bay in Miami. The condos there started at $1.5m and went up like a skyrocket. Her husband, who once edited the comics section of the New York Times, left her a bundle and she said she didn't know what to do with it. I wonder what she ever decided.
I recall sitting on the balcony with Clara discussing just what it was in the atmosphere that could possibly give a cloud a herringbone pattern. We both wondered aloud at why the only word for the color of the sky is "blue". Skies come in a shallow-ocean color flecked with clouds that look like whitecaps, and in midnight tones as rich as Caesar's Imperial Purple. Sunsets, which we both collected, are a riot of any color save blue, and Seattle has an iron hue that holds a greenish tinge you have to see to understand. So why is the sky just "blue"?
I miss seeing the sky. Things beyond eight or ten feet are just blurs to me. The sky is beyond my reach forever. I collect photos from NASA on my hard drive and subscribe to half a dozen "photo-a-day" feeds. It feel pathetic. Like Louis watching videotape of the sunrise in Anne Rice's books. I think it would be easy to be a vampire.