For those of you with a less than encyclopediac(sp?) knowledge of progressive rock music, the title of this post is a line from the Yes song Close To The Edge. The reason for it is that in the past half hour I have climbed in and out of bed several times. It's only as I was typing this I realised the appropriateness of the songs title.
Once again I have nothing to say. I'm just here to type. Type type type. Jack Nicholson in The Shining typing all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I could do that easily. I wish I had some deep insight to share with you. Wish I had something witty to amuse you with. I'm afraid all I have to offer is pointless ramblings from a yawning chasm of nothingness.
I'm not falling apart like yesterday at least. But I have to be honest and say I that it's only gritted teeth and willpower holding me together at the moment. And frankly my willpower is running out faster than petrol at the pumps at the moment (temporary fuel crises here in the northern UK at the moment caused by panic buying following a strike at a fuel depot). It's always fun when you realise you have to explain a joke.
Really I think I should just let go again. Curl up in bed and let it all out. But it scares the hell out of me when I lose it as badly as yesterday. I want to let go. The effort of holding on is wearing me down fast. Maybe it won't be so bad this time.
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