Mood swings, oh how I hate them.
Right now I’ve swung to the bottom of one. Working on the comic is difficult, and planning the work for next week and next month is oppressive. Contemplating financial matters is horrifying. I have a long list of recent personal failures, and each of them stands as if a member of some dark choir. Together they chant something that sounds a lot like “you can’t do it.”
For whatever reason the choir of my personal successes can’t seem to get its collective act together. Maybe the mood swing has scored them into forty measures of lacuna. It’s all I can do to remember they’re there. The lights are off where they’re sitting, so I can’t even look over at them for moral support.