Secret Squirrel Feels Weary

When you think you’re gone, you’re gone. Only then. Then it is over, even if it isn’t over over – like the referee blowing his or her whistle or someone telling you to get out of their house, for good – it’s over, you know it is, there’s no winning from a position of this kind. You need to believe to win. If you don’t believe, and if scepticism has become pessimism, you cannot win. It’s all in the mind. Military strategists talk about a point where most combatants from one party decide they can’t win, and the contest simply cannot be won, by them, from that point. Often this realisation leads to surrender and fleeing and things of that nature. A mental calculation of profit and loss occurs, loss is the only logical result, and individuals think of family and home and realise that it would be better to be with loved ones and defend one’s property than to suffer the ultimate punishment in a cause that is lost anyway. Makes sense, when you think of it like that.

I feel a bit like this at the moment. Like there’s no point – get out and salvage what you can. Defend your hearth with a hose or a pitchfork or a gun. And I don’t mean no point in a the world would be a better place without me in it sort of way, just that retreat, feels right for me now. I’ve overextended my flanks and the supply chain has been cut in several places and the siege has gone on too long – and other military phrases I don’t entirely understand.

The option of watching A Current Affair, with the rest of that show’s discerning and discriminating viewership appeals right now. Oh, that’s right: I watch that, in fast forward, for work, looking for stories advertising types might want. Not going to work from home. Fuck that. But no other inane pastimes spring to mind. Actually, Two And A Half Men has been on for a few minutes – I  missed ACA.

And so it is. This is the moment when vitality finally drained away in a not coming back any time soon style – leaving, not in a flouncy, all arms and bum wiggle physical attitude, but more in a collapse to the floor and commando roll out the door performance. Gone. Never to return … until the next time. And there’ll be a next time. There always is. It just feels like it is only possible to muster exactly the amount of energy required for a working week, each working week. And maybe that’s right, but this week things seemed better, until today it felt like a brick wall fell on me and suddenly eyelids were heavy and it wasn’t easy to stop forgetting things.

Perhaps the extra cloud cover is to blame.

Published in: on November 18, 2010 at 7:02 pm  Leave a Comment  

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