Friday, 15 April 2011

Taken from Oliver Burkman writing for The Guardian

Here's a depressing thought: what if being depressed, at least a little bit, is actually a good thing?

...

"depressive realism" - the theory that people suffering from depression might have a less distorted picture of the world than the non-depressed. This has been controversial ever since it was first proposed in the 1970s, when two psychologists recruited groups of non-depressed and mildly depressed people and sat them in front of a light bulb and a button. The subject pressed the button, and the bulb either came on or it didn't. In fact, the button didn't control the bulb at all, but the non-depressed people were much more likely to believe they were in charge of events. The non-depressed people, it seemed, were too caught up in protecting their self-esteem to make accurate judgments.

Recent research has thrown doubt on some aspects of this downbeat conclusion, but not on the general point that happiness may be largely a matter of delusion. We're rubbish, for example, at predicting what will make us happy in the future, as Daniel Gilbert points out in Stumbling On Happiness, which became a bestseller this year, presumably because people thought reading it would make them happy. (Presumably it didn't.) We treat our future selves like beloved children, Gilbert writes, dedicating our lives to making them happy - and they respond like rebellious teenagers, throwing it back in our faces.

...Gilbert asks. "Shouldn't we understand our future selves well enough to shape their lives - to find careers and lovers whom they will cherish, to buy slipcovers for the sofa that they will treasure for years to come? So why do they end up with attics and lives that are full of stuff that we considered indispensable and that they consider painful, embarrassing or useless?"

And guess what? Depressed people turn out to be less prone to these errors of thinking. One of Gilbert's conclusions is that if we experienced the world as it truly is, we wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning. And, of course, some seriously depressed people can't. So maybe they're the best people to be running the world, managing our national finances, assessing the threat from climate change, determining foreign policy - as opposed to upbeat politicians, who pride themselves on their optimistic (and therefore delusional) visions of a bright new future. But they can't. Because they're in bed. It's a pretty hopeless situation, really.

Friday, 24 December 2010

from 'Sally' by Johnny Flynn

Oh kiss me here and kick me there, and lovers won't be friends.

Sally was a daisy chain, and Sally was a rock.
Sally let her hair hang low and Sally wore a frock

Kiss me here and kick me there, and lovers might be friends.

Saturday, 27 November 2010

Margaret Atwood

'I've cut myself off.
I can feel the place
where I used to be attached.
It's raw, as when you grate
your finger. It's a shredded mess
of images. It hurts.'

Sunday, 7 November 2010

From 'Fix You' by Coldplay

But if you never try then you'll never know just what you're worth

Wednesday, 1 September 2010

From the film "Snow Cake"

I want you to put your arms around me and squeeze me very tightly but don't touch me with your hands.

You don't know how I'm feeling because you're not me.

Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Is it better

to waste your day watching the scenery change at a comatose rate, than to put yourself in it and turn into one of those cigarette ads that you hate?


But still, no one can stare at the wall as good as you, my babydoll


And just 'cause they call themselves experts
doesn't mean sweet fuck all
They've got the permanent press
Homes with a stable address

And they've got excitement
And life by the fistful
But you've got the needle
I guess that's the point of it all



From 'The Point of it All' by Amanda Palmer

Sunday, 1 August 2010

From Last Year's Leaves by Blanche

Last year's leaves
were just bad dreams.
Open up your eyes, there's no surprise:
just a barren tree

Low and behold
all those lies were true;
hear them ring, everything
people said about you


I thought I heard the falling rain
It always seems to numb the pain
Was that sound the poplar leaves,
screaming in the evening breeze?

Last year's leaves,
pathetic schemes
A trusted friend, till the end,
or so it seemed

You gave your word,
looked me in the eye.
Tell me how on earth, are you worth
the tears I've cried?

I thought I heard the falling rain;
it always seems to numb the pain.
Or was that sound the poplar leaves
screaming in the evening breeze
like last year's leaves?
You're last years leaves...