The Experience Will Stay With You;

This is the blog of a recovering anonymous alcoholic. There's also some Marxism creeping in now and then. Feel free to post comments, but if you know me, keep them anonymous. Thanks.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Change of focus

I've been thinking about two recent posts (Words of advice and A semi-fictionalised account of the last few weeks). These are not much more than soulless litanies of my misadventures; I think they are pretty tedious. Moreover:
  1. They are pretty one-sided and could worry my friends. I'm not sure if I'm writing this blog for:
    1. catharsism,
    2. egotism, or
    3. communication (to elaborate: therapists are people who you pay to talk to, friends come for free [that's not necessarily my opinion], but it is not always easy to talk to friends, no matter how wonderful they are)
    • (the blog started out purely as catharsism, but since it is the public domain there is the danger of egotism and since I told my friends about there are elements of communication; I want to get back to catharsism, or, something to keep me out of the pub and make interesting reading for surfers)
  2. The posts could be interpreted as me revelling in my alcoholism (I don't mean self-pity here). In a sense, that's true. One of the more astute therapeutic exercises is to write down all the good things about alcohol and all the bad things about alcohol for oneself. I get a huge amount of enjoyment out of drinking, and all the nonsense that prevails. I just don't like the addiction that comes with it. Of course, there is additionally the self-definition that comes from belonging to a group castigated by bourgeois society, but this is an unhelpful illusion to say the least.
  3. There are too many particular details in my historical posts (as opposed to the introspective ones). I aim to remain anonymous (not to my friends, obviously).
Sorry, that's all pretty incoherent. At least I'm moving away from facts toward thoughts. Maybe I should start another blog with all the good stuff in! That raises the danger of cross-correlative identification. Maybe I should just dump this whole project (the blog, I mean, not trying to get clean).
Maybe I should take the mike,
stand up tall like Michael Stipe,
and try to solve all the problems of the earth
-- Wonderstuff Maybe
Anway, I'm doing all right. It's better to be confused than insane. Better to be afraid than insensate. I bought some packing tape yesterday and the shop assistant asked if I was moving in or moving out, I responded "both, surely" [with thanks to JC].

Friday, September 29, 2006

Words of advice

Having been prompted to write something, here is some writing. Thing is, the two weeks since my last post have been pretty similar the two weeks described in a semi-fictionalised account of the last few weeks. Well, slightly worse actually. Highlights:
  • inviting three of the dodgiest characters in town back to my flat with two bottles of spirits and some psychedelics;
  • my landlady throwing them out and being subjected to a torrent of abuse and threatening behaviour;
  • apologising, and being called "pusillanimous";
  • thinking I'd gotten away with it;
  • going to Manchester for a demo in glorious sunshine and meeting a woman who had been born a Protestant in Anglesey, converted to Catholicism in Cork, and recently to Islam and claimed as a communist I was doing God's work, she said she'd pray for me, as does a Hindu guy who I helped out recently, their prayers aren't working;
  • being evicted;
  • starting Japanese lessons;
  • finding a room in an ex-student hall with about a dozen people that I already know;
  • drinking before noon three days in a row and not eating anything;
  • dropping pills in the afternoon;
  • waking up on the floor in a female student's room, sans coat, sweater, mobile phone or tobacco, "you were like that when I found you";
  • missing two meetings at work and only making it in twice this week (four times last week);
  • etc.
I haven't had a drink for over twenty-four hours now, so I've managed to kill that binge before anything else went wrong. I'm a bit lost at the moment, but have been improving all day. I am behind on work and need to move my stuff into the new place, do my Japanese homework and finish my political economy studies. Onward!

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Getting up

[Playing in my head: Ministry Jesus Built My Hotrod]

Time of rising over the last seven days:

Fri 4:30pm
Sat 7pm
Sun 2pm
Mon noon
Tue 6am
Wed 4:30am
Thu 3am (KLF is gonna rock ya)

I woke at 1am this morning and went back to sleep. I dreamt I got arrested for drugs. Two aniseed flavour Imperials in my hand were the symbol of my loss of liberty; two peppermint ones were melting in my hand like the soft pills melt in the mouth in a Will Self novel (possibly Quantity Theory of Insanity). It was extremely vivid. I was taking it calmly until the officer at the desk said that I'd get transferred to a prison in South Kent next year - next year! how long was I in for? Then she was a teenage kid explaining that the local 24-hour was the site of much dealing and I was bound to have got arrested, except I wasn't really concentrating because he kept saying "blood-claat" (which bugged me cos he was scrawny and white and unconvincing) until it seemed like the sound was severing my left ear and I woke up.

I don't normally have proper REM sleep, but I've only drank ca. 17 units in the last three days, so some normality is returning. I didn't bother finding out what the next dream was but got up and read Chapters Two and Three of Capital. It is hard work, but it is hard like quantum physics is hard, i.e. it is science, unlike, say, Baudrillard, which is difficult in order to hide that it is a capitulation to bourgeois liberalism. Note that formulations such as "the democratic dictatorship of the proletariat" are unambiguously and scientifically defined by Marx in a few clear sentences, whereas noun-phrases such as "the lucidity pact" or "the intelligence of evil" are ambiguous and loosely defined by Baudrillard in verbose, obfuscating prose over dozens of pages.

[Playing in my head: Sonic Youth Death Valley 69]