a conversation between the denizens of my mind.

ME: How are you doing?

i: Oh, you know... not so good.

me: How come?

I: Oh, you know... I see all this horror everyday, read the news and all. And the war, and bush and .... the list is endless.

me: Yea, well, the list of glorious things is just as endless, eh?

i: That damned half empty glass still looks half empty to me.

me: Well, no one can make you feel better.

I: Weed might, but I have none and won't be buying any anytime soon.

ME: You have to make the effort, take up your sword and do battle with the dark thoughts.

I: Yea, but the people who do that most effectively are called sociopaths, okay? I want to keep my heart open, my mind ever changing with new information. I need to look into the heart of the proverbial darkness. I mean, I'm a writer . . . and my goal is to be a damn good one, and that requires being aware of my world. Even the dark stuff.

ME: Sure, but that doesn't mean that you can just go with a depression. They are unproduictive, get you no where, and produce, god forbid, more of your stupid ass poems.

I: hey, I wrote a couple good poems.

ME: Out of maybe 20 thousand. And that was back In college. Why are you contesting this, you hate your poems more than I do.

I: That is all too true. The problem is, even the writing I like, is all on a blog, instead of in a book. A book would buy me a few of the little things I would like, and allow me to afford to get a new cat.

ME: You only have today. The right here. If you can come back to that, look around at the things you do have.... I would say be grateful to god for what you have, but that topic is undiscussible with people like you.

I: You never told me that you were religious?

ME: Oh, yea... I am a mystic and still in your mind, though obvioysly you don't call on me much.

I: I did this conversation thing a lot when I was going through Proggof Journaling at a nunnery.

ME: Did it help you feel better about yourself?

I: back then, I was sure that my writing would take me where I want to go, into some place of power or wealth where I can actually help out the world.

ME: lots of people tell you that your writing means something to them.

I: They like it because its for free.

ME: You have a wonderful dog, a worshipful cat, a lovely lover, an apartment on the lake, a big screen tv, internet access, lots of good, honorable friends, a lot of oil paintings, and paint and naked canvasas ready for your next bout of painting... Listing things like this does make you feel better, huh?

I : yea, it does. I once would have just tried to 'turn over' my problems to god, and try to forget them. I miss that almost as much as that feeling of being tied into the universe.

Me: I miss it more, but we both know that you have to avoid mental viruses that obscure the truth of life. If there is a god, it will think your way is moral and right, surely. You really do stick your neck out, jump into fights and stop them, and all sorts of stuff. You even wrote a funny entry today, the first in a month.

I: well, I hope that if anyone reads this, they can take this technique and bear their pain a little easier.