It's not a far stretch to imagine that chronic fatigue induces mental static, but it's an absolutely strange phenomenon. At times, I find it difficult to read a textbook, as it seems that there are far too many words on the page, too much to take in all at once, and I need to slow my reading process right down and read with my finger running across the page so I can focus.
Mostly, my mind is off in the static, in daydreams of: writing novels, doing research, being a practicing psychologist, making collages, contemporary dance, sewing wedding dresses, baking cupcakes, cradling a sleeping infant, drinking rosehip tea, buying fresh new journals, eating fresh pineapple and tasting the sting, eating fresh strawberries bursting with juice, biting into a crisp pizza crust, waking from a sleep, hearing children laugh, hearing someone humming or whistling in a public place, etc, etc. These are the comforting thoughts, the lovely images in my mind that comfort me. It's amazing how powerful the mind is, how one can overcome the static with the careful psychological construction of the sublime.
At this time of the night, especially during the summer, when the temperature has cooled down to a comfortable 18 degrees, my mind is clear and crisp. This is when the language flows out of me, when it comes with ease and delight.
It's what I call emotional bloodletting, the release of the day's tension through some sort of catharsis. For some, it's a beer after work (although I suppose this is technically ingestion rather than release, but nevertheless). For others, it's going for a run in the late afternoon when the heat has abated. It could be a cup of tea and a novel, knitting needles and lovely wool. For me, it's language, and always has been.
Even the word for the loss of blood - "exsanguinate" - it's got such a delicious and ferrous taste to it, when you let it roll around in your mouth. Isn't it strange?
Ergh. I ought to go to sleep....I'm finally getting sleepy enough from this chamomile tea.
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