There are a confluence of factors probably causing it, but, man, I have been so down the last couple of days. The factors: the wet weather, not drinking as of late, not interacting with many people as of late, both of my jobs, my poor eating habits.
And yet there are moments when this is okay, most of today even - the drizzle that my broken umbrella was barely protecting me from seemed so lovely with the Morrissey soundtrack my headphones gave it. I am so lonely. I read something today about truth and sincerity, which when I am not so tired I may quote here. The jist of it was that you could say truthful sentiments earnestly and they could, and more than likely would, be insincere. It was in the Pamuk book I am reading.
While reading this book on the train home from work, the woman next to me, young and nice, told me that she had just read his other big book, Snow, and I never really know what to do when strangers talk to me. And, oddly, it happened several times today - oddly because it rarely happens, and even more rarely when I am feeling so lonely and sad. Twice in the elevator today, strangers on other floors started to make chit chat with me. I chuckled at what they said, that easier, so much easier, than saying something, thinking of that something, to say in response. In essence, I have abdicated my human responsibilities today, have said that I am not capable enough of coming up with banter, of dialogue, and so I will just chuckle and wish I had had my headphones on, Morrissey, who does not require a response, but who if I feel like responding to, I can bop my head to or sing in unison with, or, at the very least, attempt to.
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