Okay, I’ve suffered from depression since I was 14. It’s borderline bipolar apparently, which explains the years of productivity followed by years of pretty much being unable to move. I”m in the grip of a fairly debilitating downswing at the moment which is being exacerbated by a catalogue of shite over the last 3 years that I’ve never really recovered from. You know when you get a day off and sods law demands you get flu? I’m sort of suffering from a massive dose of that at the moment.
I suppose I’m processing all the crap that happened while at university including the horror of the actual course, the deaths of 7 friends over the it’s three years, breaking my wrist and thus fundamentally changing my artistic output, the treatment I received at the hands of senior staff, Mum contracting cancer and when all that was over and done with, losing a promised job the day before it was due to start, finding an artistic collaborator – a very good friend of many years – and getting genuinely excited about doing art with him only to have some drunk driver smash into his bike and kill him. Then there’s the house in Leeds.
Given the state of things, I’m extremely bitter about having spent so much money to do a degree that isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on, being in so much debt because of it and still being jobless and in the worst financial state I’ve ever been in.
So if I’m a bit offish, miserable and look like I’m about to kill you. . . it’s probably going through my mind, actually…
I stand by my description of myself as being a misanthropist hippy. I love humanity, I just hate the people….
Now kindly fuck off.