Sunday, March 15, 2009

The effort of engagement

I wake up thinking about the bar I didn’t go to last night, the bar with the backroom -- last night I didn’t really want to go, but it only happens once a month and then I never go. Of course I never go because of the smoke, or smoke machine, or smoke and smoke machine, and at least the air is fresh today it wouldn’t seem as fresh if I went to the bar with a backroom last night, clogging my sinuses today. Maybe there’s somewhere in between.

Actually last night I didn’t want to go, I was too tired until that moment at 2 am and actually that would be the moment to go, right? I wanted to stand by the dance floor and look at people, by the dance floor with the smoke machine. But now, just thinking about it I’m already more tired, the space heater is invading my sinuses.

I wonder if I’ll ever feel better, better enough that feeling worse won’t seem so scary. I guess I felt better for a few weeks, but I didn’t feel like I felt better because I still felt so terrible, but remember I went all the way to the top of Buena Visa Park, now all I can imagine is getting back in bed. I wonder if it will ever help, getting in bed. I mean I guess it helps a little, those 12 hours of lying down and lately I’m sleeping for most of that time, right? Why do I still feel worse and worse, it becomes harder and harder even to think of an escape. Now I don’t even want to take a shower, it just sounds annoying -- it’s never sounded annoying to me to take a shower, so I guess that’s the depression adding to the exhaustion to the overwhelm. Although I guess it also sounds tiring, tiring to take a shower. Tiring to call someone, because it’ll just make me more tired. I mean it does -- I talk and talk, and even when I’m connecting I feel the exhaustion right at the edge of my sentences and then my sentences stop and everything hurts again. I think it’s that effort, the effort of engagement.