Sat, as ever, on a chair. At me red desk.
In front of me is a mug of brandy coffee, an ashtray, inhaler, little liqueur cup, two abalone hearts inside. In front of that lay eight peices of shell, with a heart drawn onto tracing paper, glued onto flattenned surface. A few files.
Its been a heady time of late, a couple of trips to london in a couple of weeks, lots of company, old friends and new.
I've met some really beautiful, unique people, all through my oldest friend. He is a lucky chap to have such a supportive (in their own way) posse. Me and he met when I was eight, he moved from tasmania in 1989, into england, falmouth, 21 marlborough road. I lived at 69 marlborough road, cornwall, tr11 3ln. Love him to bits.
Whilst in london, and here at base HQ, for quite some time, I've been drinking an awful lot. It never really seems like an awful lot until the next day, also I work throughout the day aswell as drink. Somedays I can't work, but most days I can and will and do. Its the daftest, softest kind of question I ask myself, when I ponder whether its helped the depressions I've always had, or exacerbated them.
In honesty, before the first drink, when I've tidied, had my fill of tea, brekkied, showered, whatever, I know the answer. Without the booze, recently, I would have gone down into the pits of insanity. I'm teetering, some days are given to the madness, other days I have enough fight in me to beat them.
I despise this culture we live in. Recommended daily guidelines. Warnings everywhere. Its almost as if humans have not been on this planet, continuously flourishing, for the past few hundred thousand eons. Let's all moderate, behave, not complain. The most pathetic, disappointing era is passing before our eyes.