January 1999
Hi again, and welcome back after a six-month gap. It's mid January now, and that most
ghastly of weeks at the end of December, laughingly called a "holiday", is at
last safely behind us, the furthest away it ever gets.
Already the days are noticeably longer, and just yesterday there was a clearly visible
sunset at 4.15pm. No sun, you understand, but lots of red rays. Those readers not
fortunate enough to live in Scotland might be unaware that at 57 degrees from the equator,
4.15 is in midwinter a time of pitch darkness. That's the bad bit about living here: all
the rest is fabby. (I'm lying, but let me be. This isn't coming too easily.)
Cyberspace is delighted to welcome aboard Richard, bringing our readership now to 5, a
thrilling 25 percent increase. We wasted no time in bullying him into his own website,
which will doubtless soon be much better than this one.
The Dark Days were bearable this winter. Like most SAD sufferers, we've
learned to sedate our symptoms with a light box. (Sedate isn't the correct word, but I'm
looking for an alliteration. I read somewhere that they are best avoided, so naturally we
want to sprinkle them saucily all over the shop.)
With 240 dazzling fluorescent Watts in your face, together with
magazines, coffee, ciggies, music and Friends videos (I'll be there for yooooouuu),
even the darkest days can be tolerated. How well I remember phoning Stuart one November
day, moaning the usual shit that depressives do, when he just barked, "Shut the fuck
up and get under that light!" Never was nursing so lovingly given or received. Eat
yer heart oot, Ratchett!
Our aim for 1999 is to do more than get to the end of it. Life's not a
dress rehearsal. We've reached the age of reason now, aware that the main task each day is
to remain alive until bedtime. But this behaviour, continued over days, months and years,
does lead to a certain - how can I put it - stagnation. However, every time we try
to improve our life - be it in work, play, or relationships - things just get even worse.
So rather than "boldly go" we've developed instead a mindset of "don't move
a fucking inch."
Strange, isn't it, how perceiving one's faults so clearly does nothing
at all to change them? That's why psychoanalysis is a pure con. Hmm.
Anyway, enuf of my problems, More than enuf.
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