“Open the pod bay doors, Hal.” Dave in 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I don’t want to chronicle my depression, mostly because I don’t want to have it around to be chronicled. But there it is staring me in the face unwilling to move just a tad to the right or the left so that I can have an obstructed view of life. Weird how utterly immobile it can be. It’s like the monolith in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Looming over me ominous, mysterious and portentous.
And then there's Hal. The computer serving as my brain developing a personality of its own and inflicting upon me anything it damn well feels like. Don't know that I can disconnect it. Maybe I can just find the Hal part of my consciousness -- or is it sub? Anyway there's a part of my brain that thinks it knows what's best for me. I've got to reclaim it.
Perhaps I’m on a journey that will take me — like Dave in 2001 — to places I can’t even imagine now. Through the looking glass and into new dimensions seeing myself aged and as a star baby. Imagine what I might see, how I might feel. Acid flashbacks again? Or could it be that I’m going to start digging. Digging deeper and deeper and burying myself under tons of doubt and pain and regret and soul crushing anguish.
Maybe there’s a middle ground.
|Here's one of those damn seagulls who wouldn't talk to me.|
Some would argue that fishing is cruel. Well for the fish, maybe yeah. But if you’re gonna eat the damn thing well then its part of life. I do object to hunting. There’s no call to shoot ducks or deer and certainly not bears or lions (do people even eat lion?). I differentiate and maybe its out of convenience since I’m a pescatarian (no, its not a religion, it means I eat fish but not meat, for crying out loud look it up if you don’t believe it’s a thing).
But the folks at the pier aren’t being cruel to any fish. To themselves yes if they’ve built up hope about catching anything. We did see one chap pull in a net with a couple of crab in it. It didn’t seem as though he was going to return them to the briny so I believe he was in violation of fish and game laws.
The trip to the pier did me a world of good. That and a preceding brunch of huevos rancheros (yummy). We came back to the homestead and I watched Rancho Notorious (1952)
So ups, downs and sideways. I’m diving back into meditating and studying Italian and here I am once again scribbling words down and I have not stopped my every other day runs. Running is meditating for me. I get a lot of bad thoughts out, work out my body and my soul. It is empowering.
|The end of the pier.|
It might be that my dark moods will get a little brighter soon and that I’ll be merrily skipping down the street with daises in my hair and a song in my heart. Actually that would be kind of weird.