Originally uploaded by madabandon.
Depression must be the price that we creative ones pay for our "gifts." So many artists/composers/writers that I have known have had this problem. The whirlwind of creativity that I enjoy periodically gives way, as it has now, to bleak darkness. I expend a great deal of energy keeping it together to teach and go through the day, but, as I have written before, it is exhausting, and it becomes harder and harder to do. I went to the gym, because exercise often helps. As I was walking home, up Atlantic Avenue toward the water, I thought that I might just keep walking, past the BQE, past the piers, into the harbor, and just keep going, straight toward the sun. The water must be freezing, and I would start to sink, but by that time the cold would have numbed me and I would simply fall asleep so that when I hit bottom I would not even be aware of it.