It has been a really bad day today. Rotten news from all points. I didn’t get a second interview for a very good (and my only) job prospect. I still don’t have the cash for March rent. My very good friend in Holland indeed has cancer shot through his body—and less than a year to live, another friend, in the Midwest, feels like shit and is being shit on my movement/ community extremists, and it’s dull and dreary outside to boot.
I feel depression coating me like an icky gray film, sticky and sickly smelling, a grimy feeling. There is nothing I can do about it; I try to resist, but don’t have the energy, Depression, she has me in her grasp once again.
I try to fight back: I print out a query letter to a literary agent, my author bio and three sample chapters, and put them it all in a large manila envelope. I will post it tomorrow.
I listen to upbeat music and drink coffee to keep from depression dozing in the middle of the day. It helps only to a point. I blog, here, right now and tell you about feeling depression wash over me, the grip, the cloud, the gloom and doom, and the paralysis, the worst.