I find myself depressed. Discussion with LuTron, though always welcomed by me and ever a pleasure regardless of the topic or tenor, has left me feeling sad. My misery is not so great as to afflict me with unhappiness of spirit but rather of mind. I think I can elucidate the difference most clearly by likening the situation to one in which you find yourself stranded by the roadside with a flat tire. On discovering that your perfectly serviceable spare tire is equally flat through neglect on your part you are assailed by a weariness, a disaffection, compounded of regret, ineffectuality, and self-deprecation. This is how I feel. As though faced with a perfectly soluble problem outside the realm of my competence through my own procrastinative, intellectually deficient, and mentally impotent nature.
I will spend the day with Roger Zelazny and listen, oh so slowly, to his works. I will write today and compound the history of my alter-ego the Catcher of Souls.
At this early hour I can number among my meager accomplishments this record, a detailing of my disconcerting and disheartening dream of last night, and the concoction of a double-sized batch of chili, which, as I write, bubbles on the stove and works its slow way toward gustability.