up

Even before I got depressed, I would walk around staring up at the sky. I first started doing this because I had read the description of Socrates in Aristophanes' The Clouds, where Socrates is carried around on a couch so that he could stare at the sky that much more effectively. Now this is a way of transport I can get behind, I thought, particularly since I'm not particularly fond of moving anywhere. So I decided to walk, anywhere, everywhere, and stare at the sky while doing so, traffic be damned.

I'm put in mind of this because I've been depressed as of late, and I haven't moved anywhere; I'm reminded of that direction, that ghostly country of hope, up, because of a drawing that my darling Kelli's just given me:



And opening it up (ha, that word again), there's this:



A better use of office materials I've never seen.

Nevertheless, while I am moved to the quick by this unlooked burst of highlit color in my day, I still feel remote and detached. Perhaps if you look up in the sky above your head, you can see a small fat black dot buzzing against the vivid static of the sky, a hollowness filled with wind, a kite. That might be me, hot air and canvas bag, spiraling up and away from you.