Explanatory notes on my supreme nonfiction*
I know, I know, I've been being kind of cryptic around these here parts of late. And not having comments open probably hasn't helped. I apologize, most sincerely I do.
But you see, a couple of times a year -- like grim clockwork, and usually around the time of a change of seasons -- things in my brain take a sharp turn for the worse. The best possible description I've been able to come up with is that it's like the world is set on a dimmer switch, and during these episodes the brightness level of everything around me slowly dials down to black. It's a process: I don't just wake up one day wholly mired in a La Brea Tar Pit of depression and crazy. It kind of creeps up on me. And the whole "creeping" part of it is mighty disturbing, might I add. At times it feels something like what I imagine watching yourself drown or be buried alive would be like, being fully conscious yet unable to stop or escape the dark thing swallowing you up.
Oh the depressive melodrama. I'm sorry. You deserve better. Perhaps a little ditty by Poe instead, hmm? gurgle.
Long time readers have been here and back with me before. In the case of those of you with a particularly strong masochistic streak, here and back several times over. And I thank you for putting up with my mercurial bullshit, dear gentle, tolerant readers. Soon I'll be right as rain and posting delightfully lighthearted dog photos again, I promise! Your dancing monkey will return with new dances! PREPARE TO BE DAZZLED... AT SOME INDEFINITE POINT IN THE NOT-SO-DISTANT FUTURE... OR SOMETHING.
For the time being though, I don't have much to offer that isn't painted black, beyond that I was asked by the Baltimore Sun to submit a list for the Mother's Day edition of the paper of 5 tangible things I'd like to have (calls for "World Peace" and "more time" need not apply -- we're talking concrete consumer goods and services, people). Absent my own responses, which I have to withhold for use by the good people at the Sun, I ask all ye mamas: What 5 tangible things would YOU like for Mother's Day? (were money and the bounds of bland reality no object.)
C'mon, humor me why doncha. Lord knows I could use humoring right about now.
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