Writers Block/Alcoholism

-
Have I developed a little writers block or is it me becoming an overnight alcoholic again? Since returning from Germany on Sunday/Monday coffee, dog walking, breakfast and mid afternoon boozing is all I can account for. Dan's unfortunate death reminds me alcohol solves none of anyone's problems but might create a legacy we're unable to see until it is far too late, and our bodies fail us with the heavy pressure we're always putting it under; yesterday I got pissed in Wetherby, returned with a kebab(for the second night running) and ate some ice cream before bed which meant I slept fitfully until nine am then disappeared for another coffee at Filmore & Union. Something clicked and reminded me this is not the new me, but some creeping in of the disappearing ego so I must deal with this devil before I leave for Ireland in the wrong mindset. Returning to further research the routes I could possibly take walking the west coast the weather has turned windy from the west after Friday's deluge. Perhaps a more temperate August can revitalise me again prior to taking up employment on the second September to repay some of the debt the 3 months of travelling will have created. Saturday will be a healthy day instead, and I will be unable to meet Jim in Leeds to keep my sanity safe from sinister sneering alcohol's door, I returned with banana, apple, orange, carrot, ginger, cucumber, and added a yoghurt, to create a satisfying smoothie to add to my penultimate Floxetine and I must accept the withdrawal symptoms of sudden alcohol dependence this week (including Cologne) and can not leave for Ireland intent on Guinness and all things black and creamy. Meeting Dan (another) and Peter last night might have reminded me why I had left on this trip in the first place: their needs are really not my needs, nice guys though they are, we really haven't too much in common. Dan Laythorpe's unfortunate death reminds me I only have one purpose in life currently - to pass through it, absorb it and write it. So where to from Dublin? North West to Sligo seems a logical route as I can join the Western Way through Ballina, meet some of Glenn's family and continue towards Galway. A job is in the bag from September second, well nearly as I had an interview and now have to wait for business to pick up a little, I will disappear and learn again.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Essay.

-
Introduction. My name is Pilgrim. I walk through this life much as I walk through my allotment – a space I often describe as disorganized, yet to me, it feels profoundly holistic. I don't fear wasp stings; I stride through nettles and thistles and brambles, finding a curious interest in the cut skin, a quiet control over the bleeding. I have no fear of the dark or the unseen. What truly disturbs me is the chatter, the small talk that ripples through existence, obscuring the profound truths unfolding before our very eyes. I prefer chaos to order, perhaps because the imposed order I witness around me feels so deeply, fundamentally false. I literally eat things along the path, unbothered by what others might deem unsafe, for my perceptions lie far beyond the superficial. I’ve come to see this world as a grand, unsettling performance, a "game" played at the highest echelons, designed to "manage the populace from cradle to grave." It's not a conspiracy in the nea...
Read more

France is ... a powerful antidepressant

-
I have to resuscitate a dying sense of spirit and enthusiasm into my present as I have become detached from the real joys of my life. No reading, no writing; no contemplation. Even now I am tempted to throw down the device and forget it, but why - because it's a dead end... Surely I can stay here a little longer until something infinite moves within and without? *** As I sit on Ruby's sofa/bed and listen to the sounds of spring, with the gentle murmuring of the pond at the bottom of the garden and the distant hum of the A1(M) I am aware of the distance growing between what I truly love and what I am become; in despair. Oh the alcohol fuelled me. The forgetful me. The desperately lonely me. The one I've cordoned off for the world to see. Ruby is happy with me, Lola is happy with me but I am unhappy with me simple as I am - Mother Nature's son: tranquil and unimpeded by mental noise... Knowing the truth will set me free, but being forever unable to accept it entirely. It...
Read more

You and I.

-
Are we joined, you and I? When I sit squished up, alongside thee, It seems we are: Dog and boy Man and mutt. A symbiosis between homo and canid, A combination of smells, swells and warmth, which is rarely malignant. What a lucky man I've been, knowing  She's going to rest assured and easy, These last many years, as we both Age gracefully and greying towards separation; where the winds blow us  Disparate, sometimes warm and often Cold, back to the single I; alas! No more the we. She of a gray face, And I an ashen shadow, But always brighter  Than a swarm of photons, Alighting a while, Out of their cosmic array...
Read more