Countdown to the solstice

I'm looking at a good six weeks of severe depression, and nothing I can do will be able to fix it.  It's a struggle to comprehend e-mail, or much of anything.  Posting this much has taken me two hours.  

I'm trying to switch to a nocturnal schedule, just so it's not as bad when I am awake.  Damage control is about all I can do.

It's one of those times.  I need something completely out of my control to fix it.  Some random event.  Big, small, I've never been able to tell if there's a correlation between how fucked up I'm feeling and to what extent the universe's unexpected gift has to rock in order to drag me out of this pit.  

Another thing that makes me feel better is running away.  For someone who doesn't deal with change very well, the crisis of moving can really cheer me up.  But it's not a vacation.  The thought of a vacation depresses me further.  I want to just run away.  From everything.  Just keep going north.  More latitude, more altitude, and more solitude.  Whenever I get profoundly lonely increasing my isolation is faster and safer.  I feel like a psychic contagion.  I don't want to spread the misery.

The house is falling apart.  Lack of maintenance will do that.  Lichens and rust are covering more and more of the trees and shrubs.  The landscape of my despair is spreading outward like some miasma.  All the more reason to go off the grid.  Find some remote place and retreat into a the comfortable crazy of conspiracy theories.  There are so many new ones to keep me entertained, and old favorites like cattle mutilations are still around. 

There's not much point in continuing.