I’ve become obsessed with listening to clever people talking to each other. I started the morning at work feeling slightly less depressed than I did yesterday. I’m still enjoying the fact that some of my most cherished views on the world in which I think I live are being comprehensively rattled. It started to snow while I was waiting for my son in the schoolyard – I picked him up and asked if he planned to pull my brain out through my nose when I died; he said he probably wouldn’t. We went for a milkshake and talked about Gilgamesh. I’ve swung wildly between a heartsick love for humanity and an ice cold misanthropy, a premonition of meaning and blank nihilism. I thought about some of the conversations we need to have in the West about mental illness. I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up feeling sick and disorientated. I decided to be less cowardly tomorrow. Again.