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I have no thoughts this morning.

It happens to me sometimes.

My depression is often cyclical. And there are days when everything just slows down. Exercise helps. Which sucks, because I really love sitting. The only thing I love more than sitting is laying. So I will go for an exercise walk later even though I don’t really want to.

An exercise walk is different from a fun walk. An exercise walk, obviously, is faster and longer and there is stopping to smell the proverbial roses. A fun walk is casual, rarely sweaty, and conversations can be had with neighbors or walking companions.

The worst part of this part of my depression cycle is saps my imagination. I edit just fine during these periods but producing new words is harder than it should be. Fortunately I have a pretty detailed outline to help me out. All part of the process. But it’s not just my writing that is more difficult. Today is the day for the Big Shop, where we buy all the groceries for the week –except fresh fruit which we get as needed. That means I have to decided on the menu for this week. And everything sounds boring. Or hard. Or stupid.

Except crab cakes. So I guess we’re having crab cakes this week.

Feeling really good today despite more nightmares last night.

I’m ready for the weather to turn fall-ish around here, but otherwise it’s beautiful out. Crystal blue sky. Freshly cut grass smell across the neighborhood. No breeze, but I’m sure fall is coming.

I got the logo for the book festival yesterday. It needs reworking, but it was exciting nonetheless. Today I plan on getting some work done that I couldn’t get to yesterday. But it should be a good day anyway. Right now I’m chatting with wife over morning coffee and typing to you.

I’ve been having violent nightmares for the past several weeks. Could be the new house I’m living in. (Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.) Could be the new drug my doctor prescribed. Could be my brain trying to work through the Trump administration. (I wonder if I’m on a list now? I certainly would be if any would read Green Tea.)

Last night I was trapped in a loop where shadowy figures were feeding powdered glass and laughing. There was some other stuff but who wants to read about another person’s dreams? Of course I wrote a whole book about dreams –Dreamwriter. So hopefully you do. But Su’s dreams are much more interesting than mine.

I’m looking forward to the weekend. I’ve got lots of grading to do, but it should be a good weekend anyway. No plans to speak of; no promises to keep. Just fun times with the wife. We’ll probably binge a show. It’ll be great.

It may even fix my nightmares.

Wrote.

Worked Out

Went to the Doctor.

Yesterday was a good day.

Today is a teaching day. Working hard to enlighten young minds. It’s nice to be around people who aren’t cynical and depressed all the time.

Wife is going to be out tonight, so it’s pizza night at my house. Anyone reading this in the next four hours is welcome.

All else is quiet. Crafting messages, waiting for people to do stuff. Making lists. Keeping the powder dry in case I’ll need it one day. Like Robinson Carusoe collecting diamonds on a deserted beach.

Taught.

Napped.

Watched TV with my daughter.

Yesterday was a good day.

I have a long list of things to do today. Writing is at the top, but working on my deliverables is not on the bottom. Mr. Monts will be home from Europe on the 23rd. So my deadline is the 24th. I always hit my deadlines.

In other news I experienced a depressive episode yesterday. A depressive episode is a panic attack for the lazy. Instead of a racing heart and labored breathing, in a depressive episode everything slows down. I see things more or less clearly, it feels like it’s clear, and despair comes to visit. This one was brought on by environmental impacts of the rise of AI and the fact that no one seems to care.

So that was fun.

Plans and Deliverables. Plans and Deliverables. Plans and Deliverables.

I am most successful when I am in a book store. So the plan should be to go to book stores. The deliverable would be a list of local book stores that I (Monts) need to contact.

The next plan is continue to develop this blog. I hate social media, but this isn’t so bad. The deliverable here will be to keep posting daily until someone notices.

The third plan is to create a message that I’m ready to send whenever I figure out where to send it. I should be ready to go. The deliverable there is a slogan or message, maybe an icon. Branding stuff. It sucks, but it has to be done.

The final plan is remind myself that the books are the most important thing. The deliverable there is finishing Under the Sea and making it very good. Or at least as good as I can make it.

I’ve fallen into a familiar pattern when it comes to marketing. A bit of research followed by a lot of nothing. This week is going to be different. This week is going to be a week of action. I am going to concentrate on plans and deliverables. Plans and deliverables.

I have no idea what that looks like, but that’s what I’m going to do; just after I write, get a hair cut, meet the bug guy, exercise, make rice, let it cool, make fried rice, grade twenty four papers, record the grades of a hundred and nine papers, moodle all of those grades, and write, print, copy Quiz One. Then plans and deliverables.

Yesterday was the perfect shabbat.

Watched three movies. Made some apple bread and then some turkey burgers. Didn’t think about work at all.

I got to spend the whole day in the company of my wife. The day couldn’t have been better.

The feelings of hopelessness are just beginning to set in. (Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.)

Soon will come despair. It’s usually at that point that I give up with the marketing efforts.

It takes a little bit of rationalization. But not a lot. It starts with the idea that many of the greatest artist in the western world were not appreciated in their life time. Mozart, Monet, Van Gogh, Austin, Blake, Mary Shelly (her husband was fine). Then the thought continues, many of the artist I like are not appreciated enough in this time. The Wachowskis, Rockwell, McDonagh (though he is starting to receive critical recognition even if the box office is lagging), Norton.

The thought culminates with: The point is to live a creative life, not a commercial life. I am unwilling to make the changes to my work to make it more commercial. And I feel like to chase a commercial goal is to waste time. The fear is it will never be enough. I’ll always want one more reader, one more review, five more dollars. (This last bit is COMPLETE bullshit, but I like telling myself this lie anyway.)

So I end in a place where I redefine success as what I have already achieved, and then I give up –marketing, not writing. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing.

But that’s not going to happen this time.

We are acknowledging the pattern; we are forgiving our past selves for past failures; we are going to stop using the royal we; and I am going to continue in my efforts even it seems fruitless, pointless, and really hurts my ego.

Didn’t think about work at all yesterday. I was teaching. Today I will spend time noodling, reading, imagining.

I’m looking forward to the book festival in November. I’m excited to return to book stores here and there.

This has always been a problem of managing dreams and expectations. I should do some of that too.

I’m going to spend some time with Brix today. That never fails to make me feel good.