I bombed last night, but I’m not depressed about it today, which means I’m comfortably back in denial!
I watched all the new episodes of Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee, taking care to assume Seinfeld was talking about me whenever he talked about what he hated seeing in comedy.
I’m starting to get bored writing this blog, which can only mean one thing: another external trigger that will normally cause a major wave of depression is about to strike. Me getting bored with depression is the equivalent of all the animals going quiet right before the big predator walks through the woods.
Is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? No. Because if it’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that bad things never stop happening. That’s why I shouldn’t be as worried as I am about not being able to come up with new material.
I remember the Zen story of the woman being chased by a Tiger. She finds herself dangling over a cliff, about to fall. The tiger is above her, clawing at her. Below her is a life-ending drop. She notices a flower growing on the cliff wall next to her, and she takes a moment to appreciate it….
Total waste of time, if you ask me. She’s about to die, and she’s looking at a flower? There won’t be any time left to wallow in bitterness.
Here’s the other moral of the story: don’t go on safaris. Stay in the suburbs. Remember – as bad as quiet desperation is, it’s better than loud “oh my God it’s a tiger” desperation.
Pretty sure I nailed my interpretation of that Buddhist story.