17/7/06

Hardest days these; when everything I write appears to be nonsense and life reflects that - a running theme? - the day begins ludicrously early with the usual false start and sleep deprivation - mind bellowing at me and nagging anxieties on full tilt - but still I rise full of purpose, fresh ideas and face the computer; gaze at the words written, re-read and suddenly it all appears to be pap, pointless, useless characters that have nowhere to go yet need to get somewhere, anywhere besides the limbo I'm leaving them in - maybe I am not reaching inside myself enough, maybe I lack courage? - but when this one thing of import betrays me it seems to drag whole foundations with it - all this, they say, is common enough for a creative person, but when you're a nobody this kind of despondency only reinforces the nobody and one's hopes of becoming somebody evaporate leaving you reeling in agony - the only recourse is to believe, have faith, that one day, maybe, there will have been a point to all of it - meanwhile others are saving, pensions are getting larger, people are succeeding -

Then it hits me - some hours later in fact - whilst I'm doing my 'day job' bent to it and tending to the huge garden at the south end of town - and some hope does return - I think of the Arabian Nights; stories within stories, unrelated stories linking with other unrelated stories some deliberately others not so - and this inspires enough for me to laugh off the mood and try again -