Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Writer's Depression
"I'm not alone, am I? I’ve yet to meet a writer who didn’t think like this. Writers, artists and generally gifted people have a much higher rate of suicide, depression and alcoholism.
I believe this has a lot to do with time.Those long hours in front of the keyboard with nothing but your own thoughts. Worries you’ll never see your muse again. Constant self-doubt haunting you. These thought flow into your mind because your muse decides to go on vacation. Perhaps, you were never good to begin with. Everyone who thought you’d fall on your face was right." - C. M. Torrens
Click here, read more about the brutal truth.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Diary of a Zombie Insomniac, Part III
Sembreak.A time for some well-deserved rest, without worrying about deadlines, tests and other shit. "Balik Buhay-Baboy", in short.
Why the hell, then, does my body (or whatever's left of it) still insist on not sleeping enough, when I clearly have enough time to do so these days?
If we don't ever sleep again, so much the better. That way we can get more out of life." - Jose Arcadio Buendia ("One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Comforting words from a master of surreal writing. I'd actually cry if my tear ducts weren't dead.
Am I getting more out of this life, even though it doesn't seem to be worth getting more of?
Only time will tell. But then again, time has never really been on my side.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
On Drinking and Writing About Drinking
Writing proves either one of two things: either you know something that others don't and you'd like to share it, or you know something others do, but you know how to explain it in a way others can't.As for me, one of my goals in writing would probably be (be prepared to call me a superficial, trivial writer, but screw it) to describe, in perfect literary detail, what being drunk feels like. Think about it: you get too much alcohol, you feel this temporarily indescribable high (indescribable most probably due to your inability to mantain the proper state of mind), you fall asleep, you wake up the next morning with this HUGE headache and nothing but memories of that high, and how it fostered your relationship with your drinking buddies. All the heaviness, the happiness, the feeling of gently being squeezed in between God's celestial palms...
I think I'm drunk. Or maybe at least high.
Tonight, I'm a zombie. A happily high zombie. *smile*
