The Rain

It’s raining and it is lovely.

Claude is passed out in bed. It is 4:50PM. We are in trouble and his answer is Jamo. Its fine. I get it.

I just got back from Solana Beach and have decided to quit that life. I also just came back from the worst, most intense bought of depression I have ever actuated.

People are wrong about asking “Do you ever have suicidal thoughts?”. When you are having them they are controllable. The really dangerous place is when you are simply gone. No thoughts, just actions.

This bought brought to light the micro-actions that I have been performing for so.many.years. And thus the answer to my bouts of exhaustion. When managing this, you get tired. Very.very.very.tired.

The community I have come to live among is slowly dwindling in numbers. They die, they move away (probably a better alternative), they sort of plateau in a hidden stasis…but few rise. I’d like to. I will.

The anger, resentment, etc etc has done enough toward consuming me.

Back to the rain. I am in the trailer with all the dogs. Life is not ideal but for some reason it is more livable that the So Cal dream I was living before. Solana is not my home anymore. I quit. Too many ghosts.

I am enjoying this solitude.