I want to be Jeff Buckley, but I’m Rodney Trotter.
I have lost motivation, lost faith in my will power, in my ability to turn things around. Sometimes, the old feeling returns in little flashes, like glimpses of a past mind and a more hopeful spirit. Sometimes, something makes me aware that I do have a fine mind and a lot of potential. But there is nothing to sustain it and I lose faith quickly. Lose motivation to try. Even though I know I could at this point turn the tables around, instead of drowning in my swamp of nothingness. But I drown.
I have also lost interest in writing on this blog.
The time of ice departing is always quite photogenic at the seaside.
Spring was early and very warm. I spent it romancing this book.
I also discovered a solitary daffodil at the seaside.
….and had an all-around good time there. They hadn’t fenced the meadow in yet for the cows, in spite of it being early May, so there was ample space and practically no one else there. I got to run barefoot and all.
Then came summer. It was very hot and uncomfortable.
I stayed in this old-fashioned room.
Then came the best autumn my eyes have seen. It was the warmest. I went exploring the woods and discovered an egg up the tree. It’s not chicken.
Then I made this composition with my forest finds.
Some creature liked me.
Some creature had died at sea and been washed to the shore.
Then it finally stopped being very warm.
When November came, I was very cheerful about it. So much warmth and sun made dreariness a novelty.