I don't work well under stress, but without stress, I don't work at all. It's the trick the makes me function, the force overcoming depression that sets me on a perfect spiral down to the bottom or up to the top. It can be a drain to take it seriously, anything and everything, but the regimented pacing, the tracing of turning time, the arrangement of the minutes – this is what keeps me in line. When I was younger, it was all insomniac nights and neurotic disturbance, so if I find an obsession, that's just to save me from stumbling in all directions at once. It drains off in the evening, as many hours of silence I can muster, a schedule with no set markers. The sinking of the sun is my heart slowing out to a lullaby rhythm. Evening will free me from me.

June  14, 2017
Beaconsfield, Nova Scotia