Depression

Choice and Depression

We dwell on what we don't have or we become monsters who press to have all the choices available to them so that a "mistake" can be easily rectified by a different purchase.

No Stigmata, No Pain

Making me feel guilty because I don't bleed as much as Jesus is a pretty cruel thing for a mind and a culture to do to a person.

The Milk of Paradise

Even a "fuck you" would help.

Cures and Paintpots

I'm looking at my disease in a new way.

Without Hope in the Head

It has been on my own feet that my brain has taken the most dangerous rides of its life.

Diseases with no cures, just comforts

I've never been bitter about my diabetes. It's just a disease doing its thing. Being mad at it is like being mad at the rain for leaking through the roof or at the roof for getting old and letting the wind shift the shingles so that the rain can come in.

Blankness Unto Death

A exhausted blankness unto death, worse, it seemed, than anything Kierkegaard had ever imagined.

I stank

A year ago, I stank.

Death Roll Minus One and Blogging from a Depression

When Rich announced that he was discontinuing his other blog and when blu just disappeared for a couple of weeks, I felt lost. As long as they posted, you see, I knew that they were still fighting the fight.

New Webring - Moody Blogs

To join, send email to gazissax@best.com with the subject line "Moody Blogs Enrollment". Include your name, blog URL, and blog title. I will create the ring code for your page and a password.

Bringer of Light and Darkness

When you reject my dark side, you also reject the bringer of light in me.

State of Mind at Nearly 45 Years of Age

Pass your cursor over my darkness and see what comes to light.

Things that Fall Apart and Shit that Sticks

To be truthful, I've enjoyed writing my rants about Job and about the Orange County Justice system. They're things that I can write about safely. What I am having trouble writing about might be called mysteries: I have no idea of the full measure of what is happening.

Let Me Eat Xanax?

That's the silent message I pick up from the lack of comments about our tense life situation.

The Week in Review

If it weren't for the sincere, struggling authors who know how to tell you that a sentence needs to be reworked without insisting that you give up part of your mind because "people are dumb" and "you won't sell your book writing like that", I'd forget about showing up.

A Milestone

Today was the first day of the post-Prozac era for me. I notice nothing spectacular.

Baptism

Yesterday I saw my new psychiatrist for the first time.

Clunker of Madness

Any wings I've grown in the course of being sick are about as high flying as those of the derelict jetliners parked out in the Mojave Desert.

Time to get Professional Counsel

First thing in the morning, I get myself a local shrink.

A Personality Disorder Explicated
I'm all too aware that I fall into an invisible class, a dirty class that makes some people take an...

A Communion of Xanax

I broke a xanax and ate half. Fifteen minutes later, I took the other half, entering the benzoid communion.

Thoughts on the Beast

I remember one morning when I sat up in my bed and woke up my wife. "Lynn," I said to the Empress. "I'm sick."