The Ride

When syncope pulls the shades, can you assume progress from the shaking of the carriage? Romantics think you get somewhere on your private ride, be it a moment of jouissance or a life of dysthymia. The depressed do not. The track does not move. The carriage returns to where it began. But…

“Change is certain. Peace is followed by disturbances; departure of evil men by their return. Such recurrences should not constitute occasions for sadness but realities for awareness, so that one may be happy in the interim.” –SHELLEY

Or not. Is it pretentious to say my problem is Aristotle’s Problem [rated] XXX? Can his trouble is with the twins melancholy and genius be mine too; when my genius is certainly in doubt?

“… it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,
extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry’s
contemplation of my travels, in which my often
rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.”

Note to self: Quit your moans and jabbers. Draw from your gut. Draw from the real. Draw out your images and your symbols, your ruminations and contemplations for all to see.