A rebel without a clue.

For a few days at the beginning of my time in Padstow, and before I made the effort to go back for food and a siesta (at the staff house) I dozed on the bank in Chapel Stile Field in the warm June sunshine and away from the crowds of pleasure seekers. In July and August, after the schools were on holiday, the break between lunch and dinner shift was shorter and the day was much more demanding, but I still managed to press pause in the next staff house I was assigned.

First night back in the flat since I started taking Antidepressants on Monday and when the council installed the extractor fans in kitchen and bathroom and I hardly slept due to the low level hum of the one coming through the bedroom which hasn't be culverted or had the door on the top of the wardrobe altered. I must ring them and get another date to have it sorted otherwise I definitely will be unable to sleep fully: I am just so sensitive to background noises and someone late/early last night set off a firework too... Frankly people are wankers. Between the humming of the fans and this constant tinnitus I don't know which is worse? And I forgot to buy coffee so it's tea this morning which always makes me feel slightly sickly first thing! Starting to feel slightly calmer. Less anxious and generally better mood this morning: but the sun was shining over the horizon as I departed from Boar Lane at 7am. My bowels are a bit troublesome, but it usually passes! *** Got soaked ye...

Putting the clocks back is a little difficult for me. I was awake around 5, which is 6, and I am now awaiting the sunrise in the east around 7, which is eight. Noon isn't at noon either. Mother seemed to be watching the TV into the early hours, but I guess it was no later than 11. At that point I'd been in semi- unconscious from 7. Depressed people tend to retire to bed earlier than others: or the opposite. I am definitely so disturbed by the world around that closing myself from it is the best option: bad thoughts crowd my mind before they depart and give space to true peace. The peace in sleep which is akin to death, or nonexistence. *** Where are we going? Like demented souls, clinging to something beyond our eyesight, we peer wildly into an abyss. But the magic isn't anywhere else. It's in 'nothing'. Except for this 'nothingness' we waste our lives. Nothing is all there is. However it's not a cruel fate. Better than blessed teatree lights placed ...

Where exactly is the bottom of depression(or the bottom of destitution)? Is it there a point where the rational exits entirely? Where logic breaks into too many fragments to be wholed or collected up again: like a smashed glass... Nervously I twitch at the hem of my coat. Pulling our creases forever and brushing off a dust which is out of my control. I now know I have no control over anything. Have I any free will? Freedom is perhaps such an illusion in a body I'm trapped in and a mind continually blinking. Last night I was aware of a pain. A ticklish pain in my right big toe. During mediation it occurred. As I lay there breathing in I directed my mindfulness into that section of the body as if to winkle it off, force it to abstain, cease ... it came in cycles. As many factors in the body seem to do. A timing mechanism. Something was happening in the nerves down there and I was helpless. Antidepressants. The mild feeling of a MDMA rush assailed my body and instantly I felt nause...

My focus is pretty bad this morning. It feels like the cataract on my right eye is spreading vulgar. Perhaps that is why I was feeling unsteady on my pins in York on Wednesday? I couldn't fathom why my coordination was so shot and I stumbled more or less everywhere I walked. And this was prior to the afternoon session! *** Couldn't get the antidepressants from the Boots in Wetherby or in Leeds - is it trying to tell me something? Perhaps beginning on Vitamin D once more and B12... Which I've fallen out of the habit of taking... Lola slept by my side on her bed until after she needed to go to the toilet at 5. Back to bed until 6:10 and breakfast at 7. She's asleep once more as I listen to an unconvincing podcast about climate change verses weather events. I am sceptical of all the statistics in such a short time in recorded human history. *** After a wet morning on Saturday in Harrogate I dropped Lola back with my mum and headed back to Leeds on the Sky Class X98 to hook...

To take the edge off To make the ends smooth To rake away the pain To toss into the wind And bring a calm truth It's a beer! But it shouldn't appear While the other invades; Being host of my loathing, Forgotten ways; afraid to tread. Must there be reason? A tragedy already played.

When I walk out with Lola it's with an expectation that a truth will be revealed on the, otherwise common, paths. A shared joy of an adventure on ways drawn upon heavily with others preceding track, or away, foreign, from where we're not meant to go: down the edge of hedge and field - without any right of way! There are places I'm sure only her and I have waited together, for a joy to unfold, this year, but then some sign of earlier man erases this dream. Recently it was a cluster of red shotgun cartridges around the decaying trunk of a long dead hawthorn: a death foretold. We often wait together in these other places and I let the sinister spaces, away to the south and west, be somewhere else. To cuddle Lola in these moments is very restful and brings me happiness. And there isn't a moment goes forgotten when I ask for a gentle kiss and there isn't one given. It's a pleasureable feeling knowing what I need, want, desire and looked to for is given without a mom...