Last night’s gig managed to be mellow and invigorating both at once. When I got home (too late for a school night) my head was overflowing with words and music. This state of mind may have been caused by drifting off to sleep earlier contemplating a seascape, too bonelessly relaxed to stand up and get a book down from tempting shelves, thus trying to piece together half-forgotten fragments of verse.
I don’t think anyone conveys hypomania like Dylan Thomas. Other poets do depression, but for me, Thomas captures perfectly the speeded-up-syllables-tripping-off-your-tongue head-bursting-with-a-multitude-of-plans euphoric intensity. Plus Wales, and the seashore too. No wonder he drank.
rainbow overhead on Pack Holiday
Brownie points if anyone can explain why it was upside down?
Right now, I can’t comprehend how anyone can be miserable in a world where there are hills and seas, ripe raspberries and fresh peas, rhyme and assonance, scorching sun and cleansing rain, harmony and counterpoint.
Happyness like this must be every bit as chemical as its counterweight depression. I can’t decide whether that’s an argument for or against medication, but I think I’m sticking to coffee and gin for now.
(Yeah, normal depressive interludes will probably resume shortly.)
I’d almost finished writing this before I went to school where I heard unwanted news- a thunderbolt, a blot on that blue horizon, maybe? Looks like we’re waiting again… I’m holding on tight to that mood; I might be needing it.