outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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Did you see the blood moon eclipse last night? I spied it only at the very beginning. The moon hung above the inky marina, above the ships and apartment blocks that shimmered before my bleary eyes. A subtle darkness trembled on the moon's radiant surface, a trace of the cosmos asserting its inexorable energy-force, to be seen, no, witnessed in awe. Self-pity is a terrible, useless thing. I turned away from it, refusing to even see, and went to bed, sighing.

Today is another day. How do you dispel depression? That sudden paroxysm of will and feeling. I'm walking around like a clenched fist, grinding my teeth at everything. Not even an eclipse can hack me open. Tonight I will: exercise, eat a decent meal, clean my dishes. If I can muster the feeling, I will read a book, about anything, I think. Maybe I should read about someone becoming brave at last.


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