A dreary day. Lassitude has stolen into me today, and chloroformed any sense of initiative. It is all the more frustrating when one cannot see any obvious explanation for the paralysis of spirits that seemingly strikes at random. I suppose there is a ready enough explanation though: several small sources of malaise might converge around the same time – really trivial stuff – to create roiling discomfort. Being the forgetful person that I am, the sources of discomfort get swiftly forgotten, so I get screened from the rational link between stimulus and response. However, their effect on my spirits lingers, and starts to snowball. The more I become conscious of inexplicable dullness the more it grows.
Reminds me of the 80’s fantasy, Never Ending Story, in which the billowing, consuming grayness of Nothing (a metaphor for apathy and emptiness) wreaked its way through Fantasia. Atreyu’s quest took him from the Sea of Possibilities to the Swamps of Sadness, until all that remained of Fantasia was a grain of sand, which Atreyu used to recreate the lost world, through the force of his imagination. What a wonderful story that was, and how much deeper and more resonant than the Harry Potter cult.
Notes to Self 
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