October 6th, 2009 / 1:09 am
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Meta
If this is true, I’m in the big time luck.
If this is true, I’m in the big time luck.
Me too. Bipolar I for the win!
Me too. Bipolar I for the win!
damn, sweet
damn, sweet
i think there might be “advantages” if all your depression causes is heavier analytical thought, but if you’re staying in bed with the lights off for weeks on end, i think it might generally be considered a hindrance.
i feel it definitely takes a little bit of “crazy” to make any art worth paying attention to, but as with anything, extremes will generally ruin something, including art. david foster wallace is a prime example. analytical was his 2nd middle name, but maybe that’s what lead to his end. i think it can get to be “too much” and at that point it definitely isn’t an advantage and certainly not something to glamorize.
i do think this article is somewhat fitting though, considering the fact that “crippling depression” seems to be as popular a topic to write about as drug addicts and transsexuals once was, and i guess still is.
so yeah… i dunno…
i think there might be “advantages” if all your depression causes is heavier analytical thought, but if you’re staying in bed with the lights off for weeks on end, i think it might generally be considered a hindrance.
i feel it definitely takes a little bit of “crazy” to make any art worth paying attention to, but as with anything, extremes will generally ruin something, including art. david foster wallace is a prime example. analytical was his 2nd middle name, but maybe that’s what lead to his end. i think it can get to be “too much” and at that point it definitely isn’t an advantage and certainly not something to glamorize.
i do think this article is somewhat fitting though, considering the fact that “crippling depression” seems to be as popular a topic to write about as drug addicts and transsexuals once was, and i guess still is.
so yeah… i dunno…
Kyle, we have much to discuss.
I do want to add that Maud Newton is God and I will fight anyone who says differently, and win.
Kyle, we have much to discuss.
I do want to add that Maud Newton is God and I will fight anyone who says differently, and win.
i read that article and it really seems like paul w. andrews has never had depression
the first half of the article is interesting and slightly retarded
the second half of the article is interesting and completely retarded: “But depression is nature’s way of telling you that you’ve got complex social problems that the mind is intent on solving.”
i feel less inclined towards depression-like symptoms now because it feels like i can totally be a scientist
i read that article and it really seems like paul w. andrews has never had depression
the first half of the article is interesting and slightly retarded
the second half of the article is interesting and completely retarded: “But depression is nature’s way of telling you that you’ve got complex social problems that the mind is intent on solving.”
i feel less inclined towards depression-like symptoms now because it feels like i can totally be a scientist
i want to read the article but the server wont let me.
depression seems to be the natural state of the ‘me’.
with a defense-mechanism of extreme surface calmness. a calm lake with all kinds of sea-life eating one another in some of the bloodiest battles ever.
then that battle breaks the surface is outbursts and people look at you weird and say, “you’re moody” and you wanna say well “you’re ugly” but they’e not ugly.
depression is the brain reveling in the collected nuggets of sad you’ve collected over a long period of time. for me it is at least. And i am scared over whether I can write in a purely happy mind state, without those big nugget yarns getting bigger and bigger.
writing and depression go hand in hand almost… like what cmr said. Higher thinking, heavy analytical thinking is traded off with some amount of bliss. You have to make the choice whether to remain ignorant to a lot of what is there in the world, or to take on a little bit of sadness that the world has in amounts equaling the billions.
i want to read the article but the server wont let me.
depression seems to be the natural state of the ‘me’.
with a defense-mechanism of extreme surface calmness. a calm lake with all kinds of sea-life eating one another in some of the bloodiest battles ever.
then that battle breaks the surface is outbursts and people look at you weird and say, “you’re moody” and you wanna say well “you’re ugly” but they’e not ugly.
depression is the brain reveling in the collected nuggets of sad you’ve collected over a long period of time. for me it is at least. And i am scared over whether I can write in a purely happy mind state, without those big nugget yarns getting bigger and bigger.
writing and depression go hand in hand almost… like what cmr said. Higher thinking, heavy analytical thinking is traded off with some amount of bliss. You have to make the choice whether to remain ignorant to a lot of what is there in the world, or to take on a little bit of sadness that the world has in amounts equaling the billions.
i too am blocked from checking this site.
“depression is the brain reveling in the collected nuggets of sad you’ve collected over a long period of time.” gold.
b/w 03-08, when i wasn’t writing and was “happy”/content as a bureaucrat with kids, i watched lots of tv and movies and worked out like crazy at night when i thought about too much fucked up stuff in my past. now, when my wife and kids sleep, i read, write, edit, etc. i can’t stand ESPN or E or all that shit. I get depressed thinking about the number of hours I’ve spent my life watching two fuckwads talk about a Rays-Sox double play that you’ve gotta see to believe. the stuff i write now helps me deal with things that used to push me to the brink (thanks feinstein!)
all of my neighbors like to talk about the ravens or redskins. they wear jerseys. they drink lots of beer. they don’t know what the term flash fiction is. they would laugh, ask about a raincoat.
i get depressed when i drive by parks with five-year-old boys in jerseys smashing into each other. i am afraid of what these types of boys will do to my son at school.
writing helps me. a few years ago some dude (under his breath…i have ridonculous hearing prowess, my only superpower) called me a fucking retard under his breath on the train b/c i sorta didn’t step aside for him to pass. i laughed when he first said it, thinking about the kind of loser so angry over such a thing at 5 a.m. on a monday morning. by the end of the day, i was ready to find him and piledrive him. looked for him at the train for weeks. never saw him again. i wrote a story about it, titled fucking retard, made it about a guy like me who sees the guy, follows him home, doesn’t know what to do. barry g was nice enough to publish it. that story, pubd when i was still thinking this writing thing wouldn’t last long, helped me realize that writing can sometimes help me avoid depression/vinegary anger. in college it just made me sad to write, dredging up horrible shit i went through and changing names and calling it fiction. sometimes, even now, writing just helps me obsess about shit like my stuttering problem. some of the stories help me deal with it, but then other times instead of practicing my speech i’m writing about guys stabbing their heads to cure.
so yeah, i should read the article and then i’ll post something intelligible.
but the collected nuggets of sad, mj, is one of the best things i’ve read on here. as a jewish stuttering kid growing up in dallas, i got my nuggets of sad. my 4th grade friend’s father laughed at my stutter in front of a packed room, getting laughs from everyone, even my friend’s kind mom (who would privately tell me “just slow down, sweetie, stop trying so hard.”
anyways, i’m glad i’m attuned to the suffering in the world, in my own, egocentric way. i once confided to a friend that i covertly stuttered. she nodded and said, after a long pause, that her left pinky finger was 1/16 of an inch shorter than her right. she let that comment hang before saying, “we each have our own little turd to clean.”
i too am blocked from checking this site.
“depression is the brain reveling in the collected nuggets of sad you’ve collected over a long period of time.” gold.
b/w 03-08, when i wasn’t writing and was “happy”/content as a bureaucrat with kids, i watched lots of tv and movies and worked out like crazy at night when i thought about too much fucked up stuff in my past. now, when my wife and kids sleep, i read, write, edit, etc. i can’t stand ESPN or E or all that shit. I get depressed thinking about the number of hours I’ve spent my life watching two fuckwads talk about a Rays-Sox double play that you’ve gotta see to believe. the stuff i write now helps me deal with things that used to push me to the brink (thanks feinstein!)
all of my neighbors like to talk about the ravens or redskins. they wear jerseys. they drink lots of beer. they don’t know what the term flash fiction is. they would laugh, ask about a raincoat.
i get depressed when i drive by parks with five-year-old boys in jerseys smashing into each other. i am afraid of what these types of boys will do to my son at school.
writing helps me. a few years ago some dude (under his breath…i have ridonculous hearing prowess, my only superpower) called me a fucking retard under his breath on the train b/c i sorta didn’t step aside for him to pass. i laughed when he first said it, thinking about the kind of loser so angry over such a thing at 5 a.m. on a monday morning. by the end of the day, i was ready to find him and piledrive him. looked for him at the train for weeks. never saw him again. i wrote a story about it, titled fucking retard, made it about a guy like me who sees the guy, follows him home, doesn’t know what to do. barry g was nice enough to publish it. that story, pubd when i was still thinking this writing thing wouldn’t last long, helped me realize that writing can sometimes help me avoid depression/vinegary anger. in college it just made me sad to write, dredging up horrible shit i went through and changing names and calling it fiction. sometimes, even now, writing just helps me obsess about shit like my stuttering problem. some of the stories help me deal with it, but then other times instead of practicing my speech i’m writing about guys stabbing their heads to cure.
so yeah, i should read the article and then i’ll post something intelligible.
but the collected nuggets of sad, mj, is one of the best things i’ve read on here. as a jewish stuttering kid growing up in dallas, i got my nuggets of sad. my 4th grade friend’s father laughed at my stutter in front of a packed room, getting laughs from everyone, even my friend’s kind mom (who would privately tell me “just slow down, sweetie, stop trying so hard.”
anyways, i’m glad i’m attuned to the suffering in the world, in my own, egocentric way. i once confided to a friend that i covertly stuttered. she nodded and said, after a long pause, that her left pinky finger was 1/16 of an inch shorter than her right. she let that comment hang before saying, “we each have our own little turd to clean.”
oh and depression runs deep in my family, cavernous really, like erica boyer’s ability to thrill
oh and depression runs deep in my family, cavernous really, like erica boyer’s ability to thrill
depression has never done anything but completely paralyze my ability to function and to write.
forcing myself to write has in fact started to be a big help.
also the bouts get smaller and smaller.
but personally i am going to say that i see it more as an impediment than an impetus.
depression has never done anything but completely paralyze my ability to function and to write.
forcing myself to write has in fact started to be a big help.
also the bouts get smaller and smaller.
but personally i am going to say that i see it more as an impediment than an impetus.
I guess there’s “depression” and then there’s depression. Being ruminative and a little moody and introspective might be good for writing. But the real, crippling kind? Not so much. And I would guess that sufferers of the crippling kind might not enjoy the way others fetishize “depression.” Anymore than real alcoholics like the fetishization of being an “alcoholic writer.”
I guess there’s “depression” and then there’s depression. Being ruminative and a little moody and introspective might be good for writing. But the real, crippling kind? Not so much. And I would guess that sufferers of the crippling kind might not enjoy the way others fetishize “depression.” Anymore than real alcoholics like the fetishization of being an “alcoholic writer.”
I’ve lived with and loved too many people with chronic depression, including one that successfully committed suicide. When I was young, like early twenties, I used to want to be Sylvia Plath or Mark Rothko. I’d smoke a pack of Luckies a day and sit in dark coffee shops and bullshit about my art and the suffering necessary to achieve it, and how I would rather flame out than be mediocre and long-lived.
Now? I look back at my pretentious-ass self back then and think about what a douche I was and how much better my writing is now. I’m sure a lot more productive, anyway.
That said, I know some artists (especially with bipolar disorder) who really do achieve genius when off their meds. But I wouldn’t trade my life for theirs for all the genius in the world. Fuck immortality–I just want to be happy.
I’ve lived with and loved too many people with chronic depression, including one that successfully committed suicide. When I was young, like early twenties, I used to want to be Sylvia Plath or Mark Rothko. I’d smoke a pack of Luckies a day and sit in dark coffee shops and bullshit about my art and the suffering necessary to achieve it, and how I would rather flame out than be mediocre and long-lived.
Now? I look back at my pretentious-ass self back then and think about what a douche I was and how much better my writing is now. I’m sure a lot more productive, anyway.
That said, I know some artists (especially with bipolar disorder) who really do achieve genius when off their meds. But I wouldn’t trade my life for theirs for all the genius in the world. Fuck immortality–I just want to be happy.
Maybe the evolutionary advantage of depression was that depressed cavemen stayed in their caves, didn’t venture out as much, thereby greatly decreasing their risk of getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger or slaughtered by competing happy, extroverted, self-assured cavemen.
Of course the depressed cavemen couldn’t be so depressed that they never got laid. Their evolutionarily advantageous trait had to be passed on to future generations in order to really be evolutionarily advantageous.
The depressed cavemen who stayed in their caves, developed greater analytical abilities, and were more creative and artistic were better able to attract mates?
Maybe the evolutionary advantage of depression was that depressed cavemen stayed in their caves, didn’t venture out as much, thereby greatly decreasing their risk of getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger or slaughtered by competing happy, extroverted, self-assured cavemen.
Of course the depressed cavemen couldn’t be so depressed that they never got laid. Their evolutionarily advantageous trait had to be passed on to future generations in order to really be evolutionarily advantageous.
The depressed cavemen who stayed in their caves, developed greater analytical abilities, and were more creative and artistic were better able to attract mates?
yep, the fetishization of “depression,” that is a great point. the crippling kind of depression is of course horrifying. i’ve never been diagnosed with it and certainly have never been chronically depressed. the times i’ve been frighteningly down – it’s been years since then – i certainly wasn’t writing anything of substance.
and i don’t know what fucking asshole is posting shit under my name above, stuff that is so fucking egocentric and not even truly on point.
bottom line is that the real depression is horrifying and nothing at all to fetishize. i do like the comparison to the alcholic writer. nice post, mike, thanks.
yep, the fetishization of “depression,” that is a great point. the crippling kind of depression is of course horrifying. i’ve never been diagnosed with it and certainly have never been chronically depressed. the times i’ve been frighteningly down – it’s been years since then – i certainly wasn’t writing anything of substance.
and i don’t know what fucking asshole is posting shit under my name above, stuff that is so fucking egocentric and not even truly on point.
bottom line is that the real depression is horrifying and nothing at all to fetishize. i do like the comparison to the alcholic writer. nice post, mike, thanks.
thanks, sasha, in my egocentricy, douchy, head up my assy way, that’s what i sorta wanted to say. i believe writing has helped/helps me avoid true depression, which used to hover far more, wanting to play.
thanks, sasha, in my egocentricy, douchy, head up my assy way, that’s what i sorta wanted to say. i believe writing has helped/helps me avoid true depression, which used to hover far more, wanting to play.
i wanted to say no no no definitely yes to that last bit, but i’m not certain i’d mean it, but i want to.
a lot of it is more that i’ve been able to at times almost write my way back out of it. or to just sit down and write and use that to just sort of shake myself out of it a bit. often the writing is shit, but. anyway. yeah.
impediment v. impetus.
i wanted to say no no no definitely yes to that last bit, but i’m not certain i’d mean it, but i want to.
a lot of it is more that i’ve been able to at times almost write my way back out of it. or to just sit down and write and use that to just sort of shake myself out of it a bit. often the writing is shit, but. anyway. yeah.
impediment v. impetus.
oh, yes, a lot of my writing during such times is shit but yeah it helps.
thanks for your insight.
oh, yes, a lot of my writing during such times is shit but yeah it helps.
thanks for your insight.
mimi can you please write a long story called ‘the depressed caveman’ that is in the style of this comment?
mimi can you please write a long story called ‘the depressed caveman’ that is in the style of this comment?
second this request
second this request