Went heavy on the sauce last night. I had no plans, so my neighbour’s solution was to have a few. Don’t know what it is , but we were both feeling good and fed-up. Strange to feel like that on pay-day but there you go. I haven’t been drunk in a good while, can’t actually remember when…think it was the new teachers welcome party which was the second week of April. Goodness Aine, letting the side down a bit there.
Oh Lord was I feeling the pain this morning.
seriously.
Came to the conclusion though, that it’s just not worth it anymore, this whole drinking melarky.
What on earth is the point to it really? Last night was so void of a point. Needless, stupid drinking.
The weather was forecasted to be rainy, but alas no, twas a beautiful day, the kind of day picnics were made for. I was so mad with myself, for wasting this day because my head was planted in my arse, or at least it felt as though it was.
Decided to go for a swim. Saturday afternoon. Children, fucking children everywhere and the wonderful bonus of being the only westerner there, as per, ( usually i ignore the gapping but today i was not in the mood to have have my every move scrutinised.
“Have a good olde gawk for yourself now Sir. Yes, I am a white woman, and Christ, could they be round eyes in my head? Good Lord! And look at that, a foreigner swimming…I thought foreginers were all too busy training to be terrorists to learn a sport.)
Lordy, the noise.Why must they be so noisy, these children? Isn’t it enough that they’re bounding off the balls, without the sound effects?

It made me wonder though, how parents become alcoholics. Aren’t children annoying enough on a good day with a decent night’s kip nevermind, on a torturous morning after the night before, when you feel like you’ve just licked piss off a nettle and there they are your wee kiddies, screaming and yelping, fifty times louder than any decently loud American you know.
if you wanna be able to wallow in a good honnest hangover, then don’t bother with children.

What do I get for my pa-eeeee-aaaaaaa-e-ain, as a hungover father-of-twenty-three Billy Corgan once beseeched .
Nothing Billy. Not a solid thing.
just an even bigger headache.

Feeling the sun on a sunny day alone; Standing, warm in the breeze, alone; thinking to yourself of the glory of the day, a thought which is never said aloud because there is no one is your company to acknowledge it. Is it the sun which makes the absence even more apparent, its illuminations highlight the empty shadows, rays soaking the vacuity? Or is it your mind?
It’s often said that you think too much about feeling lonely. If you’re thinking about feeling lonely, surely that means that you have thinking time, because you’re alone. If you weren’t alone you’d perhaps have something else to ponder. With all this thinking time, there’s plenty of room for maneuver. You start by considering the unplanned day before you. You wonder how this day will unfold. The sunshine opens up a whole wealth of possibilities. What all could you do on this fine day? What kind of a day would it be had someone wished to share it with you? That you’ll never know because in this abyss you can’t see that you didn’t ask for this day to be shared. You sat and waited, waited to be rescued from the isolation, hanging off a cliff but refusing to give your hand to be pulled to safety. Why do you do this? Fall into this languid trap? Or are you choosing to jump into this black hole? You don’t think you are, but in truth you don’t know.
Is there something toxic that others immediately sense, something glaringly wrong? You fear there might be, but you don’t know what. It used to be enough to just be you, but now that’s not so. Each time you take that step into peopled circles, you forget to be careful, neglect to watch for what it is that makes you seem sour to those who hazard a taste. Then when you return to your den, to the nothingness, the nothingness which extends long and wide, you’re left to wonder why nothing changed as a result of your voyage, in this nothingness; why no one wants to see more of the you. You’ve gone stale perhaps, from all this thinking, and it’s taking you over. It spills over a little when you finally find ears that will listen, albeit momentarily. It has to stop though, because no one wants to hear it.
Is that it, is your loneliness making you lonelier?
You’re turning and turning in this isolated vacuum looking for a way out, the spinning and the dizziness it causes are inhibiting your view of the escape route.
Something has to change.
Someone has to change.
And that must be you.
You are your thoughts.