I thought that if I

I thought that if I complete something it might pull me out of my funk. Yesterday afternoon I went and bought Spider by Patrick McGrath. The book is being made into a movie by one of my favorite directors, David Cronenberg, and the back of the book compared the author to personal favorites like Poe and Paul Bowles. They had but to add Lovecraft and I would have fallen prostrate in the book store at such a holy trinity. I thought here it is. If I read this book I’ll be rejuvenated. I’ll actually finish something.

Just to add to my personal accomplishment list I went and saw Human Nature yesterday at the Angelika. I thought that might be the insurance I need in the case the book doesn’t deliver. I finished the book today in between frequent naps and a trip to my post office box. Nothing. No sprightly jubilation entered my heart or mind. I’ve still got this same blue funk that I can’t shake, only now all my thoughts are twisted up from getting inside the head of the schizophrenic that is Spider.

Why am I so tired? Beat down even.