Languid. The perfect word for the day. Standing on the tube, after getting out of bed, an hour and a half late. The alarm went off fine, but as I said, languid.
I’ve pushed things too far recently. My body is starting to feel the strain. My brain feels like cotton wool and my skin is sensitive. I’m finding it hard to balance, In every sense.
I still have a thousand boxes to tick. A world to make. A life to create.
That said, things are happening. Brain transition. Slowly, the world turns. Tumblers fall into place, always helped by a skeleton key.
One of the most important purveyors of sanity is organisation. Keep it filed. Keep it safe. Know how to find it when you need it. In the brain, or on the shelf.
Aahh. That’s better!
I am in a horrible creative void at the moment though. It’s what stops my strings from going out of tune. Keeps me upbeat. I’m sure it’ll be back. It’s just the endless paperwork slog, being a dad again, has created. Keeping on top of it. I am on top of it though. It hasn’t stopped me from bingeing ridiculously.
Another patenting goal achieved, yesterday. Doctor registration. Dull as dish water.
The difference between this summer and the last are immense. Heady days. Not a care.
Ha! What bullshit. It just seems that way now. Then I created my own drama. Now I have to deal with what’s thrown at me.
Just bitterness rising.
Rejuvenate. That’s a good idea.
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