Friday, January 3, 2020
I don't have any happy pictures. They are all depressive or gloomy. This is the best that I could do.
I made a mistake last night. I took an extended release Xanax somebody gave me. I woke up sitting on the couch about four hours later with my neck terribly bent. I could barely walk to bed. All night long I would wake up spinning. WTF? Am I that susceptible to drugs? I am barely coherent this morning. It is difficult to move.
And I don't feel any better about life.
It is another cloudy day. And warm. It will get to the mid-eighties today and rain tomorrow. I am living through a pathetic fallacy (link). If only there was a sympathetic fallacy.
The Xanax didn't seem to help my anxiety, and I am certainly depressed. Maybe I took the wrong thing.
When Fitzgerarld published essays about his Crack-Up, Hemingway disapproved (link). I agree with Hemingway about this in many ways. Still, sometimes. . . .