On Apathy: The Rot Girl Summer
The Muse Letter No. 56
Wait a second till I find my joy. It must be here somewhere.
Last night I was out for dinner with a friend, the first time since November (?) that I’ve entered a restaurant and sat down and had a meal without alcohol but that’s going to change next week when that will be possible again in Scotland and we sat there, shouting at each other because: wow was it loud in here, was everybody just a tiny bit louder than usual or were we just not used to it anymore?
I can’t believe that I’m writing this but: Where the fuck is my joy?
By now I thought I’d be in exuberant bliss, going out to shops and cafés and museums, but it’s raining everyday and I still have the heating on. While the world is turning into a tasty green, you want to bite into its leaves, I stare out the window thinking: Shouldn’t I be happier? Or at least mor…