The title may be too spot on, but the same emotional black hole it describes is sapping my creativity.
I am tempted to say that I have never felt such agonizing loneliness, such hopeless melancholy, as I feel now. And even a cursory inventory of my bleakest memories fails to dissuade me from that claim. At least I can say, without the least hesitancy, that I've never felt worse than this.
And so, given that on two previous occasions, when gripped by similarly acute distress, I resorted to the most immoderate applied remedy, it is fair to wonder whether I might be contemplating the same solution now.
I can't say I have not entertained the notion today.
But, for now, I am immersed in Gershwin, and scanning the horizon for any signs of rescue. I seem to retain at least enough energy to continue scanning the middle distance for the rest of this evening, anyway.
