I've nothing much to say, well nothing I haven't said a hundred (maybe eighty?) times before. I had a dreadful day (emotionally - I didn't go anywhere or do anything), something approaching the despair I recently experienced, but with a whole lot of the hopelessness and regret that's characterised these last few months mixed in, cocktail style.
Everything I do or contemplate has no consequence or importance (seemingly), to me or perhaps most annoyingly anyone else. I feel I could walk over wet concrete without leaving an impression.
A slight draft has more impact than me.
I'm just feeling sorry for myself I know, and of course, objectively, I probably have or had all the solutions to hand, if only I'd been able to overcome my terminal lethargy (or is simply laziness?). Like some low budget time traveller, I dwell on the past (I suppose you can't really dwell on the future? maybe you ponder it?) more and more and more. Sorry those last couple of sentences were shockingly incoherent and directionless (remind you of anyone?) , and I haven't been drinking (much).
I have a feeling it's going to be one of those sleepless nights. As soon as I finish typing this rubbish I'm off to watch some escapist nonsense on TV.
Two days later - I came back to this post to add the usual quotes and pictures. The self pity and misplaced teenage angst, made me ponder deleting it, but obviously I didn't - duh!
A quote in last nights 'Mad Men' (season 4 episode 8, by the way) really resonated with me. I've previously never associated myself with Don Draper in any way at all (obviously!) , but his line (I paraphrase),
"if you have to think about cutting down your drinking, you are already drinking too much"
made me laugh and frown at the same time (is that possible? - I've just tried it, and it is).
Whilst I am not really at the problem drinking stage (yet - I think) these past few months, looking forward to a glass of wine of an evening has become an almost daily routine / obsession. The giddy silliness that it induces is a pleasantly change to the standard issue maudlin / gloomy mood, I usually find myself in. Of course there's an easily crossable line that one more glass may cause me to , er, cross. On the other side of that line is miserable introspection, regret and even more depression - thankfully I've only visited a few times. Tonight finds me still very low, but thankfully not as when I started this post, where whilst not suicidal, I could certainly recall some of its apparent appeal.
I did stay up very very late on Saturday, watching TV in lieu of sleep, by the way.
“Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.” - George Bernard Shaw
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