I have been busy. I have been working night and day on clerkmanifesto. There are pictures and cartoons I meticulously generated that are squirreled away in folders that I would likely be delighted to show you here, but because I was so constantly making new things and posting new things and developing new things they became lost in the flood. For the past few weeks, one could find me whispering secret instructions into my phone at any hour of the day, and a thousand ideas and photographs gushed forth.
And then, today, I got tired.
It was so sudden. I walked out to the front desk of my library. It was quiet. No one needed my help. It was the perfect moment to commence with whatever project, large or small, was next. But instead, I just stood there, staring into space. No cartoon idea could induce me. I did not want to convince a cheerful "can do" AI to make the exact picture of a bugheart fountain in Clerkmanifestoland that I wanted. It wasn't simply that I did not have a new plan, I didn't particularly want a new plan.
I have never thought of myself as manic, bipolar, but maybe for any and every identifiable psychological condition to exist, it must be part of the great human brain. Maybe we all have a little bit of everything; mania, sociopathy, autism, schizophrenia, extroversion, anxiety, depression. Some are overcome by one or the other. Some live with it. Some experience flashes of them they barely recognize. Some make glittering use of them. Some of them lurk buried unseen in the brain, and some people are used and devoured by them.
In an hour I may suddenly fervently need to put myself and clerkmanifesto on a bag of chips, or create a dazzling Monet painting of me walking through the library with a parasol, but that may not happen for days or weeks. The fever abates.
I want to watch the stillness.
I just want, once again, to write a thousand words, when a single picture will do.
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