Wormholes

I like the theory (notion.... conceit?) that black holes pull matter in from this universe to reassemble it in another. Whatever the truth, it's a good and positive image for depression which occasionally can drag consciousness down to a depth where only reassembling is possible - and very occasionally that new assemblage is the start of a new life, or at the very least a new perception of the old.

Which is a way of saying I have been - still am - in a black hole, mostly caused by the inability to get out on my day off. The virus, well I could have 'risen above it' if it had been a work day, but it ruled out outdoor activity and all the indoor stuff seemed jaw-breakingly dull so I re-read three Ruth Rendels and watched Midsommer Murders. I suppose it could be said the depression was self-inflicted.

The iMac has been switched off for 40 hours, almost unheard of. Other than the folk who have ordered books from me (praise their names) the worlds that might collide with mine seem to have gone to sleep too.

A creative friend suggested running a fictional thread into this journal. I'm thinking about that. I'm not very good at fiction, (which doesn't say much for MY creative imagination) and if I'm going to do it it might be rather different to how she had envisaged. More sci-fi or sci-fantasy than Eng. lit. Inspired by Star Trekkian worm holes and Huxleyian parallel life-times.

Places along the journey where the road forked. I can think of one or two. The idea will have to cook a bit.