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.

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]

Monday, September 11, 2006

A semi-fictionalised account of the last few weeks

I feel like life's escaping me. Before I forget what I've been up to, I'm submitting some of it to a more concrete and reliable form than my memory. To misquote Stanislavski and paraphrase Bandler, what follows is not actually true.

I can just about remember 25th August, before that is lost. It's Friday night, I'm supposed to be getting an early train to London for a wedding celebration. I'm planning an early night. I get an invite to a fake dyke wedding at the castle. I can't resist and so don pink flares and a British Army jacket from the Crimean war and head off for some nonsense with red wine in a plastic bottle. Much nonsense ensues involving various pubs, parties and dodgy dealings. I end up in a scummy club dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984. I pull, we go back to mine and stay up all night. I get a train around 7am still wearing the jacket. I try to sleep on the train. I watch two episodes of Star Trek in a B&B then head out and buy a flowery shirt (I may look like trash, but I can't go to a wedding without a collar). A quick pint in The Olde Coffee Shop (what a saviour that place is on a Saturday with a hangover), thence to the wedding. With the groom and his mates in kilts and the bride's side in traditional Filipino dress, I didn't look out of place. Got slowly wasted and when drunk teenage Filipino girls started hitting on me decided it was time to exit.

Got up at 7am for breakfast but couldn't face it. Went and woke up a friend in Brixton. They had a party, BBQ, Frosty Jack's and cocaine. I got about two hours' sleep on the couch. Almost within minutes of waking I'd been handed a beer, the sun was out and the music was back on. Borrowed some clothes (as I hadn't brought any). We made it to about 10pm before collapsing. Went home the next day (i.e. Tuesday). Struggled through work on Wednesday and Thursday. Mostly drinking, though. On Friday, I had an opportunity to denounce Amnesty International as the bourgeois pacifists they are to someone doing research into NGOs. Stayed in Friday night as had a dinner date the next day (from previous Friday) and wanted to be fresh.

Saturday, up at 6am, blitzed the flat and went shopping. Finished by 12noon, opening time at the local. Dinner date got the sack so came and joined me around 1pm. We got slated on Stella. We drank coffee. I cooked Italian sweet and sour leg of pork (marinated in red wine for two days, cooked with chocolate and prunes). We got more slated on Merlot. More coffee. Down the pub to meet some of her friend's. Then to the club where we met for snakebite and black. Back to mine for dancing and wine till 4am. Invite to a party. MDMA. Asked to leave. More wine and industrial rock at my place. Got up at 7pm and went to the local for the quiz. Came fifth. The only thing I could remember was that the lead singer of The Fine Young Cannibals was Roland Gift.

Went to an osteopath on Monday morning. Had trouble controlling my sick stomach while he contorted me. Met an old alky friend whose been drying out. Hit the pub at 11am. Went home and crashed out. Couldn't concentrate on Tuesday. Back hurt like hell and brain was fogged from too many days drinking. Struggled through Wednesday and Thursday. Went out Thursday until about 7am. The party was dying down and noone was drinking but I was craving the peach snapps in the fridge. Didn't want to embarass myself though, so got a taxi home and downed a can of stella. Started reading An Actor Prepares by Constantin Stanislavski, an awesome book. Took some MDMA to stay awake so I could read it, but gave up around midday as the lines were no longer in the correct order on the page. Got up at 4:37pm. Had a shower and a can and went round a friend's for dinner. Gave her my camera and gear as I no longer use it. Went out and met a whole bunch of people. Started to get alcohol paranoia so went home for a bit, then went back out to meet friends. Last week's dinner date turned up at 2am, my friend's seem to thing she's a bit of a weirdo. Did some MDMA dropped with acid. Went back to mine at some point with this lovely weirdo who unfortunately doesn't want a sexual relationship. Finished off the drugs, did some salvia. Listened to Marilyn Manson, Korn, Ministry, Bright Eyes, The Pixies, Galaxie 500, Jane's Addiction, all day in the sunshine on the roof. Neighbours complained. Slept from around 3pm to 7pm. Went to a BBQ. Started drinking again by 8pm. Very shaky by this point - fazing in and out the conversation and wondering if I'll make it. Eventually had massive panic attack and existenstial crisis in the pub at 2am after doing some MDMA on top off Irish Black Russians. Lay around Sunday trying to put my brain back together. Listened to the cricket. The sun was hot and I was sweating it out. Whole body wretched. Went to the quiz at the local. Played with some random old guy who kept buying me pints. We came third. Couldn't face going home knowing there was no alcohol there. Bought a carton of red wine, a bag of pork scratchings and a copy of New Scientist.

As the sun woke me this morning (for we have now arrived almost to the present), I lay there fighting to stay in my semi-waking dream world, fighting to keep the hallucinatory fever and visions rather than face reality. After a few hours the dream world had almost slipped away and waking was upon me. Shower and coffee and cigarettes and back to work and act as if everything was normal. Which it is.

Teenage poetry

18:30:08 The nature of thought of whatever kind, must ultimately be insanity, because it expresses relations between things, and never the things in themselves.

19:50:33 The world is the totality of facts, not of things.

21:08:10 The true test of the perversity of a pleasure is that it occupies a disproportionate amount of the attention.

22:01:42 O thou frail bluebell of moonlight, / That art lost in the gardens of the stars! / I adore thee evoe / I adore thee, I A O.

22:04:06 He shall fall down into the pit called Because, and there he shall perish with the dogs of Reason.

22:09:25 Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.

22:11:28 A wise fish never goes anywhere without a porpoise.

22:14:08 Click your fingers it is done the moon has now eclipsed the sun the angel has spread its wings the time has come for better things.

22:15:11 Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream.

22:17:42 The devil can quote scripture.

22:22:52 You can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding.

22:25:57 Every separate bone cold an incarnate groan distilled from the icy sperm of hell's implacable worm.

22:34:22 but i believe that lovers should be tied together / thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather / left there to drown / left there to drown / in their innocence

22:39:34 Every separate nerve awake and alert on a curve whose asymptote's name is 'never' in a hyperbolic 'for ever!'

22:43:47 I stayed at home on the Fourth of July.

22:47:00 Stab your demoniac smile to my brain soak me in cognac kisses cocaine.

22:48:52 Yes.

22:52:08 By the way, if you see your mom this weekend, would you be sure and tell her SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN.

00:05:50 Us the insane are really the sane!

Sources: Aleister Crowley, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Noam Chomsky, Malcom Muggeridge, William Shakespeare, They Might Be Giants, Bright Eyes, Galaxie 500, Butthole Surfers

With friends like these

I got an email from my old boss today:
"I guess I'll be recruiting fairly shortly. Obviously if you fancied slipping back to London and picking up the sword again, I'd be delighted to discuss this, but I guess this is unlikely (what the beer, girls and crystal meth of Llareggub being what they are)."
Not only am I on a George Best path to destruction, but my former employer is aware of it and still wants me back. My life never ceases to astound me. On and on, on and on.