Suburban Geometries

I think I've got another thread to pull. I often find myself contemplating the most ordinary of things. The way that the houses in my suburban hell* interact with each other. Intersecting roof lines everywhere; garden furniture echoing the walls of a house. Suburban geometries both banal and hypnotising. Like beige.





* not my phrase btw, that was given to me by a good friend who's lived here all his life. We both came to the conclusion that suburban life isn't the healthiest. It seems to bring out strange behaviour in some long term suburbanites. Of course, being a Highland boy, through and through, I'll readily agree to this kind of thinking. I'm named after an ancestral hermit after all. Misanthropy should be my middle name.



The taper is progressing. Another reduced dose last Thursday and maybe another tomorrow night. I'm apparently noticeably brighter and sharper than I was even three weeks ago. I mostly feel that way too. Especially in the mornings. I'm not sure that I'm seeing /much/ creative benefit yet. It's still a process that involves berating myself for days before I do anything.

Although I do take the camera with me more. It's the desk (facing lightroom and a massive catalogue of unedited images) that's the sticking point now, so maybe I can say that I've managed to crank the creative conveyor belt forward at least a notch. I'm having problems judging the quality of my work, which isn't a new problem to be fair; simply amplified by the fog of pregablin.

I've had a few bad days. Mostly, as expected, a side effect of the taper. The pain is a problem, but thankfully not constant. At least not as constant as I expected. The "black dogs" - to quote the missed and beloved Douglas Adams - were expected too. I was ready for them, but they've still once or twice bitten me harder than I would normally cope with. Yesterday was bad in that respect. I could barely move. No reason that I could discern. Nothing more than chemical imbalances caused by trying to reduce the dose of a pain management drug that affects more things than I want it to. I can't wait for it to be out of my system.

The twist is that the depression - the black dogs - was almost welcome. It's a sign of my system starting to reconnect with the world. It's almost comforting. Like a heavy, well tucked blanket, pinning you down and keeping you still. Almost comforting. Almost welcome. I've heard that said by other creatives going through the same process too. Evidence that sadness is a necessary part of the creative process. For me, it's a key element of connecting with the world. Especially now. Without it, there is no drive to improve.


If you're new to this tapering diary I'm keeping you can see more of it by clicking the pxctaper tag below. The first post there should explain all.