The slow Winter trawl

The tail end of last year tapered off to naught in a quagmire of illness, sandwiched between two bouts of what is currently diagnosed as a stomach ulcer and crushing depression came many days of illness. Even now I feel weak, fluish, ill. Tex got through one day at work last week before diaroeah and vomitting took him apart. It took till friday before I could sleep through a night, till he produced 'solids'. We went to the studio on monday and tuesday then last night he was sick throughout the night, clearing up sick all night and journeys out to see if I can get him to off load outdoors have left us exhausted. We are no hypachondriacs yet something seems to stand between me and making things. If it's not a dread of the studio then physical illness come in to steer us. The world has ways to let you know if you are spending your days wisely. It's as simple as putting ones hand in the fire. I feel certain my future will not be in making things in qute the same way as I have been. I can't find the joy I once could in the realisation of a vision. Not in that way, anyway. There is a way life drags you through the body of ones own experience and skills in to patterns or ruts of behaviour. People come to me for certain things and I make them which provides me with a living but it can become like being led by my past rather than the infinite possibility it should be.