Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

What I've Been Up To Since Tuesday And Mushiness For The Fiery One

What I have been up to since Tuesday (and I promise that when my brain’s better, this site will be, too):

1. A deep and desperate depression took hold of me late last week, persisted through the weekend, and continued until about Thursday. It has tapered off somewhat now. It came in fits, robbing me of sleep and my appetite. I became convinced that not only was I generally unlikeable, but that I unwittingly pushed people away with my behaviour. I believed that I had nowhere to turn, that no one really loved me, and that my future would only be a bleak stretch of days, each nearly identical in their hopelessness and futility. Thankfully, the mood seems to have lifted somewhat. I’ve upped the amount of St. John’s Wort that I am taking, so hopefully I won’t have to revisit that again for a while. If I had gone much lower for much longer, I was looking at a hospital stay, and if I can avoid that, so much the better.

2. Friday and I have been spending a lot of time together, and whether it’s going to sit in on a film class to watch the “Grapes of Wrath” or eating sushi at our favourite Japanese restaurant, we end up drinking beer. I like beer, beer is good, but I need to exercise some clean living for the next week or two. I’m getting too old and too poor for this. It’s been fun, though. Hey Friday, how about we take up knitting and drinking tea? I think my grandmother might be on to something.

3. I have been working on another template design, which I have been enjoying immensely. This one is for a Pitas weblog, which is new for me. It looks like this (click on the image to visit the site):

4. I got two new birds today! They’re singing away in the living room as I type this. Man was getting rid of his birds, and since my little Elliott has had no other finches to chatter with since George died a year-and-a-half ago, I offered to take his last two. They’re a male and female pair in a cage together. Shit. I just realized that I didn’t even ask Man what their names are. I also just realized that I would have changed them anyway, so it doesn’t matter. What should the Fiery One and I name them? Any suggestions?

5. I talked on the telephone with the Fiery One yesterday afternoon. He sounds lonely, which is serving to make me feel quite pleased. I’m still digging myself out of a pit of despair, so knowing that he’s lonely for me, hearing that trailing little sigh of sound at the ends of his sentences, makes me feel incredibly loved. Of course, what would please me even more would be his returning from Europe right this second, but that’s not going to happen for another twenty-five days, so I have to take what I can get. I’m still hanging on to this dream I had of him and I standing under a palm tree and a warm sun watching people and traffic pass by. No words were exchanged. We simply stood and smiled and held hands in a cool breeze.


Because this is one of the ways we are able to communicate while he is so far away for so long, this one’s for the Fiery One.

The Taxi
Amy Lowell (1874 - 1925)

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,

Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?


Read Fresh Yarn, an “online salon for personal essays”.

Watch the Mount St. Helens VolcanoCam.

Listen to Elliott Brood.

On The Mend And Playing Centon

Sick At Home Again And Some Bad Poetry Balanced Out By A Snippet Of Good Poetry