im in newcastle. i remind myself that im up here for business. A community housing confernece... but i cant seem to keep my mind on work. Im a anxious. Distraction isnt working. My computer is connected up wirelessly in the confines of a pub. The beer that i sip also offers no release.
Its as if ive forgotten something. im so desparate to remember. its as if i need something, but everything should be here. its not home sickness. i have only been here for a day...
maybe its existential - anxiety of the present self.. maybe psychoanalytical - anxiety of the impinging past. perhaps its not clinical. perhaps its justified. water. petrol. life & death. intollerable work & a dead culture that we all call our own.
i lament on the matter in absence of a cure. it is an end in itself.
4 comments:
enmore burnt down last night, apprently you left the oven on.
hehehe - me use an oven? never! deep fry maybe, but an oven? never.
how can you not use an oven!!! and you call yourself a fag, very dissapointing :P
Sounds like "the blues". I take comfort in the historical repetition and pretty much universal occurence of the phenomenon.
Nice piece of writing!
Hope you've kicked the blues.
I'll come back to Sydney and see you next week.
Love ya,
*e
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