The Mean Reds
A blast from the past – this is an excerpt from a zine I used to write called The Toilet Bowl Diaries (issue #7):
Blower’s Daughter is my favorite song this season… along with Deftones’ Change… (both of which are featured on my Too Cold Outside 2005 mix) they suit the mean reds of winter, which I get quite a lot. Anyone who has melancholy tendencies, is a writer, artist, raw and genuine, or blatantly a theatrical fake suffers from the mean reds at times. Which is why Holly Golightly in Breakfast At Tiffany’s is such a well-loved character. Capote wrote himself a pure classic to stand the sands of time along with Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath and Harrison’s Legends of the Fall. It speaks to everyone, because in everyone there is a Holly Golightly and a Paul Varjak, the dichotomy of being human.
What do I do when I have the mean reds? I go to Barnes and Noble with my journal and order Starbucks Caramel Chai Tea Latte with extra caramel syrup and sauce. I find myself a corner under the painted eyes of Kafka, Steinbeck and all the other greats and brood about how I’m not one of them yet; and after a few hours of scribbling away in the journal of the month, with my extra fine precise black ink pens that bleed just perfectly (not so much its hard to read, but enough to feel like you are writing in ink as it was meant to be written in), I’ll smile and feel better. My most creative thoughts and the beginnings of my most meaningful ambitions have come from a day of the mean reds.
And there is nothing better than a bottle of jack while casually strolling the house naked/in a robe still soaking wet after a bubble bath in candlelight. They are some of the most poetic moments of my life.
Anakalian Whims 
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