I am so bad at communicating lately, and I don't mean that I'm always silently counting down the seconds until I have to stop interacting with another person, although that is still true. My mind is doing some sort of reverse evolution thing and is currently in repellent melting sludge mode, leaving me unable to make sense of anything besides the most basic network TV shows.
My texts and tweets are tired and dull. My longer form writing is a preteen boy's. My speech is peppered with nonsense filler phrases such as, "what I'm trying to say is I'm trying to describe it as close as I can to what's real" and my face leaps from one surprised grimace to the next as I hear the words tumbling unchecked out of my mouth.
Which is why a different silence is following my long, depression-driven blog absence. I'm so tired of feeling anything and I am also sickly disappointed that I feel that way. The last month I've taken deep refuge in sports talk radio, games, matches and sporting news. And I'm starting to realize I barely care about these things at all. It's just an easy salty sea to bob in while I realize that my mind is a puddle on the ground and my heart has winged off into the atmosphere, so far away I can point it out like a starlit dot in the sky.
But I am trying. I am rounding up all the latest volumes of my favorite comics. I keep saying that everything is probably okay. And I'm listening to music:
Lots of great new albums are out now but I am desperately anticipating the new TV on the Radio record. If this new track is any indication, it should be a doozy.