East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai


The comfort of strangers

It’s been rough going these last two months, and it’s not over yet.
I’m pushing myself to keep writing and putting together ideas, because it’s either keep moving or die, and yet I’m once again going through one of my bouts of black moods.

In particular, I’m somewhat tired of failing repeatedly in learning from past errors, especially where evaluating other people comes into play.
If I were as good at picking the right horses as I am in trusting the wrong people, I could make a living at the racetrack.

And yet there is an up side, and it’s the fact that in these two months, as people took a bad turn for a number of reasons and old friends and connections vanished or turned out to be more than willing to move to Cold Shoulder County, I was also treated, again and again at the kindness of strangers, receiving a helpful hand from distant acquaintances.

So I can’t really say I’m losing my faith in humanity – I am not, because humanity is great as always. Maybe it’s the slice of humanity I kept close that’s not that great.

Anyway – I’m wasting a lot of time, and I should be working on a thousand different projects.
But we’ll get out of this pit yet.

Meanwhile, some good music to close this dreary Sunday.

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Bouncing Back

The only true downside of this writing thing is the black moods.
As I told in the past, when I’m writing – and these days, I’m writing most of the time – I am subject to bouts of what I suppose the Elizabethans would have called melancholia.
Basically, I get mentally tired but at the same time restless, easily irritated and in a state of what I can only describe as aimless sadness.
It’s bad.


I regress to a state of sub-human standards – I don’t shave, my daily schedule gets chaotic, and I am in general pretty unpleasant to deal with. Continue reading