Without Professor Moriarity, there is no Sherlock Holmes

December, & I am consumed with various forms of itchy anxiety where everything seems apocalyptic. Nothing creative is happening, but perhaps this will change.

Mired. Swamped. Drowning. It's strange how we metaphorically compare feeling overwhelmed with a large pool of (dirty) water. I think I feel a depression coming on, but I am fighting it. I suppose this time of year is trying for most of us anyway.

I have this love/hate relationship with humanity. I want to be around other humans but desperately need some time away from them. People exhaust me lately. I feel like those fictional psychics who go mad around crowds of people because all the inner monologues reverberate in their brains and crowd out their own thoughts.

Going on an online diet (i.e. avoiding the internet) for about a week. Starting later. Maybe.

Mercury in retrograde brings with it all kinds of returning nemeses.

December, so far:

zombie dreams of being chased by teenagers with bloody mouths

soup

ailing dog with totally jacked-up looking eye

good books & bad movies

melancholy tarot readings

wishing away one's archenemies

failing