Sinister: undergone?

[invisible_boy]

On the train on the way back from Wakefield last night I
found a key in an ashtray. No keyring or anything, just a
single key on it's own amoungst the Silk Cut stubs. I'm
pretty sure it was abandoned intentionally. Its one of those
ones that arn't like Yale keys - the long ones. It looks
quite old and the "key" bit at the end is like the shadow of
a castle turret. I don't really know why but I'm utterly
fascinated by keys. when I was younger I used to have a
small collection of found and discarded keys I kept in a
money bag, along with a minature padlock I'd rescued from
somewhere. I have no idea where they are now. Although I do
think about it sometimes.

There's a lot of symbolism inherant in keys. A means of
access, a secutity device, a way into secrets.... Redundant
keys even more so becuase their usfulness is reduced to
simply being something that feels good in your hand or
pocket, but still (if you're me) something it's really hard
to part with. I have old keys on my keyring which are no use
anymore but if I remove them it'll upset a balance somewhere
and I'll feel slightly odd. Like the feeling of suddenly
having a really severe haircut, if you can see where I'm
coming from.

Sorry these are things that occupy a lot of braintime which
would probably be better employed elsewhere. Hmmm.

With the recent depression / artistic genius thread I
thought I'd throw a metaphorical oar in. Has anyone read
Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel? Essentialy an
autobiography documenting a lifetime of depression. Don't
want to upset anyone (each to their own) but I really hated
it. Perhaps it was theraputic to the author, and I honestly
sympathise with anyone suffering from mental disorders
(dunno a PC term) of this kind, but really, can anyone enjoy
and/or take away something worthwhile from 300 odd pages of
what reads like teenage angst? I find a lack of any real
emotion in those pages which differentiates it (and this is
my point) from people like Ian Curtis, Nick Drake etc. where
there is always a real note of optomism, or at least a fight
against the oppression and the bad. Ditto for Kesey,
Burroughs, Radiohead, Kundera, The Cure and so on. Deep
depression is never sexy, it's the fight against it that
inspires admiration and maintains my faith in people
generally.

Please though, I'm really not trying to be infmlamitory. I
honestly hope I havn't offended anyone. If I have, mail me
and we can talk it out. I worry about my clarity of
expression and people taking things the wrong way,
easpecially in such an impersonal medium.

Incidently, for my top tip on an exellent novel dealing with
depression - The Trick is to Keep Breathing, By Janice
Galloway. Fiction by classification only.


Er..That's it, I think. Believe it or not, it's taken the
whole of IYFS and three cans of stella for me to write this.
Cripes, and still loads of spelling misstakes. My apologies.

Tara.

Kev (alias shambles, alias invisible boy, alias biscuit,
alias someone-else, alias me)
----
http://www.lost-cat.org.uk/




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