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Posts Tagged ‘long dark weekend of the soul’

The Long Dark Weendend of the Soul #2

In Autism Research Unit, Department of Psychology, Unforgiving Minutes, Work Diary, Writing Diary on September 27, 2009 at 3:26 pm

The weekend blues continue today and I’m going to have to keep on trying to analyse this from time to time to put together the longest-yet work in progress that is the Haynes Manual to my head, an Aspergic head, an ADD head, a cyclothymic head, a romantic, apostate catholic overeducated small town dreamer’s head to boot, because it’s no one single thing.

This isn’t just a matter of routine, though that’s important.

I have been teetering towards depression for somme time now. And it could be one of many things, which I will look at briefly – I’m working with very low levels of motivation here:

  • I have briefly mentioned elsewhere that a childhood friend of mine died just over a week ago. We hadn’t seen each other a great deal for a long time. His awkwardness and obsessive tendencies reminded me of myself. Another Orlick to my Pip. That is, a shadow, a character who reminds me of what I dislike about myself. I have known many such people, and tend to have a love hate relationship with them, an intense ambivalence which swings this way and that; the kind of relationship many men have with their fathers. At the very funeral many of his aspergic traits came out so strongly. I used to say to myself that he spoke like somebody on a Teach Yourself English tape. Something of course, I do myself. We were together all the time as kids, and, intermittently, into my adult years. We were together the night before I was due to go to university. My Dad left a message on his phone early in the morning, which had been diverted to his boss’s phone: where was I, he demanded, I had a big day the next morning. We used to write stories together, make videos and I spent a large part of my childhood with him.
  • Women constantly play in my mind. Strangely, this stopped for a while when I was with my last ex, Marketa, the brunette of an abortive story Greetings to the New Brunette that I began to write on coming back from Prague, or on her going back after she came over for a disastrous trip that’ll be hilarious with a little distance, when I knew already it was a mistake. I say strange because I didn’t enjoy time with her at all and I still kick myself whenever I think about it. But I’m finding it hard I think at the moment knowing how difficult it will ever be to find a woman who can deal with a man as obsessive as I am, who wants constantly to work and who finds it so difficult to send time with others. I have become a recluse these last few months. Read the rest of this entry »