I know this is Bluesky and I should complain about something besides myself. There is the background hum of our global war. Murmers of dead friends. There is general malaise. Repeating itself. Getting louder

Winter is kicking my ass. I live in San Diego. We don't have winter here. But muthafuck it's cold and dark and bleak under our perfect sun. My antidepressants are depressing. My psychiaTryst ended. I don't know if I am sad or happy. Thank Christ someone gave me this Sarah hall book.

It's one of those nights where I feel like I need to say something but have nothing more to say. I have been writing for days now. All anger. All denial. Time should take a break. It's been relentless of late.

I've avoided this for a lifetime.

Posted. It was cool. Like a dystopian wanted ad it disappeared. I guess permanence is more dystopian than disappearing acts.