Staying Connected.

The issues are mounting. Four of them concern health, the rest are an odd miscellany of all sorts of things. My life is taking on the texture of a surreal novel in which creatures of varying degrees of nightmare leap from dark alleyways to ride on my shoulders. The weight is getting to me.

A few nights ago I lapsed into a strange state of consciousness for a few moments. I suddenly felt entirely disconnected from reality, as though I were an astronaut who had left the ship to take a space walk without a safety line. It was bizarre and a little worrying; I even wondered whether it might have been the start of a real psychosis. But no: in less than a minute I was back in the twilight zone of mere anxiety, depression and a sense of treading water until the cataract is reached.

Sorry for the whinge but I can’t think of anything else to write about.

(Actually I could if I really wanted to. I could write about the tall woman who I see in the coffee shop every Monday, and who has lately been in the habit of staring at me quite intensely between writing on a notepad and playing with a laptop. I could even jot a rare Lady B post because she told me something interesting today. But why bother? History isn’t quite the sounding board that it used to be.)

Am I exaggerating a little here? It’s a pointless question because only I can know.

Tonight I watched a film called Lucy. I liked it.