Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Fucking Evening

I’ve been trying to find my centre. Winter is under my fingernails and on my lips, and I need to shake it loose before it gets to the bone.

More than anything else, what the season brings me is isolation. I end up so lost that simple things like touch, sharing a meal, or holding up my end of a conversation become overwhelmingly complicated, and leave me feeling sensitive and nervous.

I don’t know where I need to go to find what I used to have; all the signs are in another language, and all the maps are made of dust.

6 thoughts on “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Fucking Evening

  1. Winter is indeed a time of quiet and subtle death, a perfect time of introspection but it ultimately gives way to rebirth…

  2. The video I wanted to show you yesterday contains this verse, which I find so lovely:

    “If something in the deli aisle makes you cry
    Of course I’ll put my arms around you and I’ll walk you outside
    Through the sliding doors
    Why would I mind?”

    (It’s Parentheses , by the Blow)

  3. I think I might understand.
    I think people get together and drink and smoke and everything else to make those things easier. Another strategy is chess. I like chess as a solution. Or music so loud you don’t have to talk (turn it up Mister DJ!).
    Another solution is just to share a meal or coffee or whatever and just do it whether it’s awkward or difficult or not.
    As far as where to go for this? The answer might be old friends, old places, or new friends, new places, or maybe both?
    The thing I came here to write was in response to what I thought read “WRITING is under my fingernails and on my lips…”, but I see I was wrong so I will stop here.

  4. It might be a form of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I know every winter I think of looking into light therapy and every winter I completely fail to do so.

    Though I think that “the economy” has a lot of people on shakier ground than usual.

  5. Hmm, I hit post earlier than I meant to. FWIW you’re a talented writer and there’s a depth to a lot of your posts that I know reaches me. There’s something about writers that seems to make us have a hard time getting entirely outside of our heads and into the world. If I ever find a solution, I’ll let you know.

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