For the past month of so, I've been going out progressively less, particularly when leaving town has been involved. I don't think that public transport has been getting especially worse, but I have been finding it intolerable, even for short hops like the journey to Bristol for Comics 2000x, and the train journeys I make for work. I've been going round people's houses less, and even attending small gigs -- a habit strong enough that it made it into this week's strip -- has been falling off. More and more, I'm spending the nights at home, working and working on stuff, most of which will never see the light of day, anyway. And when I do go out, there's a sense of rising clamour that gradually drowns out whatever it is I'm doing; I get wound up, even when there's no reason, and then I start to feel crazy and then overreact, zen myself down until I'm barely there. I'm sick to the back teeth of saying "Don't think, be," to myself. And so on.
Although, on the bright side, as part of my annual review of art materials, I decided to see if it was possible to draw with some tiny crayons my little sister gave to me. Yeah, maybe.
Mood of google: I'm unhappy because I eat, I'm happy because I ate potato salad.