I am looking for ghosts in every corners. I crave the smell of dead leaves on the ground, and the feel of a northern wind in my hair.
I want skeletons in trees, woolen socks on my feet and cold rain showers.
I slip into daydreams of nights filled with the aroma of wood burning, and the flickering lights of will-o’-the-wisps leading the dead.
Of candles in windows and magic circles.
Of dark stories murmured at night, and salt on windowsills.
Bring on the cold weather, and the changing of the Wheel.
Bring on the Day of the Dead.
The Season of the Witch.
It is 1:50am on Saturday the 30th of October. At precisely this moment, 28 years ago (also a Saturday), I was from my mother’s womb belatedly ripped, upside-down and with an umbelical cord around my neeck. Things have not always been great since then, but on the whole they’ve not been too shabby, either.
hey, i was also born belatedly, upside-down, and with a cord around my neck, and not breathing! happy fucking birthday, dude. i got nothin’ but love for your crazy face.
“you know, people get married, people get divorced, people die, people don’t die, people get all kinds of problems, they lose jobs. but still, we keep the records going at night. and, you know, 33 rpm: life’s not so bad at that speed.”—brian fallon (via imaginarymoshi)
I hope you’re all well and if you’re not – and some of you may not be, one of the things I’ve learnt is that this sort of headspace is far more widespread than is openly acknowledged, so many of us are hanging on, almost overwhelmed with desperation and feeling like it’s our fault, that what’s wrong with us is just self-pity or negative thinking or innate defectiveness when in fact it’s a terrible illness. (It’s how I feel. I’m so aware of our dreadful economic hardships and how they’re impacting on all of us and the fact that I’ve a roof over my head and a pink car make me feel like I’ve no right to feel anything less than blessed. And yet.)
So if you’re in a very dark place, my TOTAL and empathetic commiserations to you. Truly. I beg of you to just hang on. Watch Come Dine With Me, eat cake, play with babies, go to the doctor, talk to your friends, eat more cake, ask VERY LITTLE OF YOURSELF. Just get through the next hour. There were times when it was reduced to that for me. I’d think, I’ll watch an episode of Come Dine With Me and when I’m on the far side of it, I’ll be half-an-hour further along.
a very small moment that stood out to me in the past few years: my mother showing me a magazine, saying there was a good interview with Marian Keyes in it, and, almost as an afterthought ‘… and she was talking about her depression.’
that was one of the first times it registered that my mother was trying to connect with me - even in a small way - about my illness.