i am depressed!
for part of the winter, i am like: i love this, actually, because i can wear chunky knits and fleeced leggings and i am not wearing a sheen of sweat, always. there is a certain level of festivity. but i conveniently forget the low level of relentless existential dread, despite the oranges i eat, the supplements i take, the SAD lamp blasting at therapeutic wattages, the endorphins flowing from a consistent routine of cardio and strength. i feel like i am becoming more of an asshole. every joy is dampened, somewhat, by something else. not to mention the evil on a national/corporate/capitalist/global scale.
i watched skinamarink with a friend and it truly fucked me up. many found it intensely boring, which i guess, you might too. but it seizes on the really dark and loathsome shadows in my brain. i started to pull down the bathroom shade at night and avoiding my reflection in the mirror because i might see something i don’t want to see. some have theorized it’s an articulation of trauma, or abuse. i think maybe the movie seems foolish if there’s nothing you’ve ever really been afraid of, if you’re confident about your reality and your safety. but there’s a part of me that’s always a little suspicious of what’s in the basement, what slips past the door you thought you latched shut. we’d been living in this house for two winters when i heard a rackety sound in the heating vent and pried it open to find an empty, rusted campbell’s soup can; later, another clattering noise led to an orange 76 ping pong ball. inexplicable. years later, our landlord said no children had lived here, at least in the past decade. but why would an adult stick a soup can and a ping pong ball into the vents? was it animals? there is no sense to it. i am sure there must be some logical explanation, but we also watched a trip to infinity on netflix where, apparently, infinity is long enough that anything can and will manifest in a box, which is basically magic, or horror.