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Angst Chronicles

Right, to update the last entry: mom came out of hospital the Wednesday after, and she’s more or less okay now. Our dog, Fred, who some of you will know is ill and sadly not going to make it, has been up and down, but holding on. So right now, I guess things are as ‘normal’ as they can be round here.
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How to Fail

Two weeks and no entries! Well, yeah. Nothing has really changed in the last fortnight. I guess I’m stuck with a genuine tendency towards persistence, i.e. I persist in spite of no break from my angst and having major trouble generally. Being blasé is the best policy, but I never got the hang of that. I think my life has always been one of belief and integrity, insofar as that’s possible, but experience tells me it’s not a recipe for success. Not giving much of a fuck about anything is probably the path to success. But if I could be like that, I’d be someone else. Convenient personality changes aren’t part of my repertoire, unfortunately.
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Angst Equals Great Art?

On the creative front: I’m asking myself about how and why one can derive creativity from angst or annoyance. This is interesting. I used to be able to channel any number of frustrations into creative work—I think it’s still possible, to an extent, but since my life, while still needing a lot of work, is broadly more tolerable than it was, say, two years ago, I find myself less creatively inclined toward using negative feelings in this way.

I wonder if that’s a good or bad thing? I suppose it’s good in most ways. Whereas when my life was truly down the toilet I could have used even a minor annoyance as a reason to write some dark, brooding, ponderous chunk of bile, I somehow don’t feel that need anymore.
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