That's definitely the most important victory, that initial one of giving yourself permission. Going, I'm not actually paste. My life has value. Im involved
Don't be too hard on yourself. This sort of thing is probably inevitable for anyone who has a mate called Mexxy.The pit. It’s in everyone’s soul. Everyone gets touched by it or pulled into it to varying degrees. Uncle Fester, as an ex called it. If I stay away from booze, ballast rights itself. These last few smouldering summers have been primo cold drink seasons and what’s better than popping a bottle or 3 of your favourite poisons on such days?
Summer 1998. Similar scenario. In the arboretum with mates. Bag of tinnies tucked out of the sunlight. Pop the first can. Mmmmm, tastes of......cold. Glug away. Everything’s fine. Sun block on, ”x” is due with some gear too. Christ that first one was deliciously cold. What about another? Just one more (LIAR, YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF). Is there a more honourable way to serve the sun god? Grip a glass off the table next to us. Pour slowly, keep the head to a minimum. Civilised. Feel myself perking up, sitting upright now as the (STFU YOU SELF DELUDING CUNT) first one hits the subliminal threshold. Lovely day today. Look at the sky (YEAH YEAH, YOU KNOW WHAT’S COMING, DON’T YOU CUNT). Play keepy-ups with mates for ten minutes, get up to 20 and give up. Student lasses for miles. Where are my beers? Bust another ring-pull back, a magical sound. Enchantment through acoustics. Flop back in the chair and .....fade to black.
Wake up the next day. Something’s immediately wrong. Blood on the pillow. You what? Can’t think. Wherewhowhathowwhy? Try to reach my phone. Arm and hand trembles, grazed knuckles and I can taste blood too, pain coming in from above my eyebrow, cheek and lips. Fuck, must have banged into something. Can’t focus. Feel crumpled metal by my knee, is that a can? Spot a wrap on the bedside table. Jesus. Peer into the phone to attempt a decryption of memory loss. Oh no: “You fucking cock, no need for all of that was there. We’re all banned from the Vernon now and Mexxy‘s in central’s cells. Don’t phone. You’ve got a problem. Fix it”.
3 beers a year or less since (including the millennium), pit not remotely as regular.