drnkn m mrning cn and wkn up/ can't get what i need so syk/ never mind/ reading dos's the double which is truly remarkable/ fortunately not proper syk, otherwise fuggid it'd not be but unmerry hell/

aching/ out for a very late and long one sunday night i was relegated to the couch, waking at 0845 to a bollocking &c/ by 1100 i felt vile so pursuaded alba to let me lie down for minutes 10/ these 10 became four hours, so didn't get m till 1551/ surprisingly suffered little ill effect but exhausted i retired to bed about 1900 and slept till 0934 this morn/ supposed to be working but can't really get into it/ need to get a can to smooth those rough edges/ money is under tight control so he of the graft is my only viable instantiation, and without the auto pilot which cannot be forced i am not he/ oh well...

as yet no fruit has been bourne/ thus i've abandoned hope, not least for the joy of what i'd hoped for occuring against a position of pessimism/ winner i in that position or the contrary/ feeling good/ had a glorious time at house of s yester and left floating positively (not one mite of negitivity gnawing at my happiness)/ then acquired some fine foods (camambert, proscuttio of parma, org. bacon, a rather fine merlot) and constructed an exquisite late snack for the alba and i/ slept phenomenally well and post-cup of coffee to pharm. reading ibsen and bedecked in finery (scarves twain of fine cashmere and merino wool)/ have recently imbibe my first can of the day and when my tenure here expires will shop and return home for a well earned nap/ what a punishing reigeme...

feeling good/ a days abstinence yester (not voluntary but dictated by my rapidly diminishing funds) left me a little raw and twitchy the night through, but i slept pretty well and thus feel fine this glorious winter morn./ a heavy frost sits atop the leaves and grasses and as the sun drives through them they glitter like so many sparkling jewels/ it's alright/ my shit has yet to bear fruit, but i'm unconcerned as a friend said three days is standard/ well, roll on demain...

feeling good/ business as usual/ how i adore my routine/ as per, sitting in i-cafe sipping iced stella and digesting a stunning b'fast had a calm day yester: 11 cans stella over a 12 hr period/ to bed at 0215 as i was getting into army of shadows and realised were i to see it though i'd suffer the following day (unless of course i were to sleep till the early after, but with dusk approaching before 1600 the prospect of only 2hrs daylight is eminently depressing)/ off for a bracing walk on the common with that which constitutes an albatross (to with, the alba)/ hmm.../ nothing to report but my contentment/

sipping stella to take the edge off last night/ started at house of m, whereat consumed 2 dark 'n' 1 light, then to house of n whereat procured 2 valium (10mg) and then with n to offy for beers en route to the house of s/ at house of s worked my way quickly through 3 light and procured 1 dark which we took to house of d for a relaxing smoke/ then home, where drank a few beers and sat smug and warm in a blanket of h and valium/ around 2100 got bored so out again to house of s, whereat smkd 3 more light and procured another dark which again i took to house of d/ as usual plenty stone there so smoked till the early hours, procuring a can k en way home, then at home chain smoked and drank beer till i passed out en couch/ schweet!

doin' gd/ calm day yester: 3 day cans (stella) then bed at 1630, waking for houres twain at 2205 the back to kip till 0850/ woke with a feeling of optimism and clarity i've not know in decades/ cooked a phenomenal breakfast (organic bacon that seemed to glow with vitality, org eggs, normandy buttered toast and org coffee) and now attempt work and to resist urge to visit marcus...

excellent ngt last/ having scoured the lifeless streets and tower blocks with n for a cpl hrs finally lighted upon some old associates of his whom inhabit the most spectacularly dingy house i've ever seen/ one 'spencer' produced an enormous bundle of stones, his (much) older and decrepit brother produced the pipe and i settled in for the best smoke i've had in years/ they were all suitably impressed with the quantity of my intake, dubbing me a 'badman' who courts 'murder-man pipe'/ i was tickled pink by their recognition and left whipped and deleriously happy/ slept well last ngt and woke feeling great, meeting pa for coffee at nero at 1030/ i put my excellent state of mind down to my quitting k cider/ currently attempting to coerce f into coming over/ l8rz...

gd ngt last/ terrible b was followed by delicious w at a gathering of muppets so i home early and to bed/ slept the sleep of those who sleep extremely well and for long periods, waking at 1345 to strong coffee, an excellent breakfast and an argument/ attempting to persuade f to come hither for fun as i am officially fundless/ h'ever this may be unwise re: 'the big picture' since i feel another habit slowly embedding itself in ther marrow of my being/ oh well...

good day yester/ exceedingly pleasant lunchtime smoke followed by a cpl beers then home to relax and sleep/ woke at 1300 with that divine, langorous, early habit feeling in my flesh and bones/ in that condition one can choose to sleep on or rouse, drink strong coffee and go about one's business smiling, smug and warm/ i love h so.../ unfortunately i must now begin a period of abstinence (no funds) but it is only for a cpl wks/ zafe...

indeed, so life for me has become a constant balancing act/ i am no longer (indeed have not been for eight years) able to function without the alba/ life is weights and measures/ my existence with her is far from perfect but the year we broke up i was take to points of despair i've never experienced (and do not wish to experience again)/ h'ever these desparing moments were related only to the thought of her being with someone else/ i didn't (apart from the sex) miss anything about her/ but i do crave an existence free from her petty concerns/ i dunno.../ if i was more secure in myself i'd've been off years ago/

well having left the i-cafe last night something clicked and i went on auto pilot to the spot, whereat met a couple who said i could come to theirs and smoke/ 'twas a longish way but always so pleasant to smoke in comfortable surroundings/ anyway we smoked through the w and 'kingston' passed around some weed and we drank a bottle of port i'd acquired on the way/ when i'd done my last pipe i left and as soon as i hit the cold night air realised i was overwhelmingly fucked/ now situations such as these always terrify me because i am 99.9% of the time totally unable to get even close to finally fucked/ now my intake in terms of quantity had been far from excessive, but i'd been mixing it up something righteous: mixing k, beer and methadone in a glass; as usual trebling my anti-depressant intake; smoking two huge dollops of h in less than 10 minutes; whole stones on the gauze/ but i think what did it more than anything else was the variouys and thus volatile mixture of alcohol combined with weed/ this may sound absurd, but only because weed has a erroneously innocuous image/ i feel far more compus after a fat smoke of each and a large drink that i do after two spliffs of skunk and a couple of pints/ this was even (or especially the case) when i was smoking 1/4 oz. skunk a day/ a friend of mine whom has recently come into the fold expressed a similar sentiment the other day, to wit that he sees god's own medicine and w as far less objectable than weed/ now this statement, like any other, is also objectionable, but you get the point...

so much for 1/2 baked intentions/ h'ever, 2days consumpton not too excessive: 2 stella; 1/2 kronie; 1 k; 8 whiskeys; 2 b/ wth regard to the latter i subscribe to the principle promulgated by one of burrough's fellow resident's at lexington in junky/ roughly: i can get a whole room of the stuff but without worry it ain't worth the hassle/ ni've always agreed wth ths in theory but buggered it in practise/ now i'm adhering to it more but bizzarely unless i have total worry fre access i find worry always attends/ but at least i'm making progress (id est 'adhering to it more')/

but how long will i stay off?/ i have the potential at the moment to dress dapper for a purpose and make a decent amount of money, and my boredom with alot of stuff will no doubt drive my work/ why do i drink?/ one reason is the gaping emptiness i see in the streets, particularly those of central london/ there is no place i know more deafening and cavernous than tottenham court road, alone at lunch time/ grey and horrendous when one is without purpose or companionship...

bored bored bored...off to see a tubby gp this eve about my drinking/ currently 'working'/ keep feeling twinges to buy drink or drugs or both but just don't really feel that interested/ maybe i'll become a workaholic...

as paul butterfield once said, 'ahm, drunk ageen' (to wit, 'i'm drunk again')/ started far too early but it is a disinhibitor and as such reveals one's genuine thoughts/ i cannot be fucked with bullshit (unless it is my subtle form of dissembling)/ i'll sleep in cardboard in a fucking graveyard rather than suck bitch dick/ watch me/ and i ain't gonna go the suicide route/ let them win?/ FUCK that...

as h l mecken once said, any poet aged over 30 needs professional help. the analysis of burgess' enderby, a poet of forty, was one of arrested adolescence. enderby attempts suicide and is placed in a home where he is programmed to be 'normal'. the thing is the old enderby is likable and interesting, but his latter incarnation pitifully dull. i don't think it is valid to discard the idea of writing because it is in part based on a sense romanticism which seems to wither in most by the end of adolescence. in fact it is a harsh and rather predictable criticism. the childish romanticism of which some speak should be cherished, and can co-exist (indeed be an integral part) of a mature personality. look at romanticism as spirit whose attributes change with age. a loss of this spirit i see as a consequence of personal let downs and failings, not one of positive maturation. write as much as you can, i say. if nothing else writing is cathartic and i don't think analysing the notion of truth to it's logical conclusion devalues it. just being able to write your thoughts down systematically is helpful. and beware the path of logical analyses. it will see you barren and drive you utterly mad.

so, feenin' scene-in/ good wknd then la nuit d jus' cpl of cans and a few resin spluphphz, culminating in my retiring very early (before 2200) and sleeping till 1100 this morn./ i would not survive my punishing reigeme were it not for my remarkable ability to sleep when and f0or how long i wish/ take sun. ngt. e.g.: 1/2 g/chaz; 10 cans stella; 3 pints kronie; countless z-bluvz; lots of happy mondays and talking shit with my two best mates/ i then awoke to a sniffle and barged my way through the day till collapse became inevitable)/ so as you can see, without sleep (the most restorative thing in the world) i would either be extremely ill or dead (or both...)

Never sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than your own

Algren, thou fucking genius thou. And he adds: The book asks why lost people sometimes develop into greater human beings than those who have never been lost in their whole lives

so here i sit the ultimate bohemian jaeger jacket cashmere scarf sipping fine wine from a black corner shop back listening to ornette coleman...don't you wish you were me?? best is i'm not afraid better i sleep in a field on a rock than have to put up with hell for bricks and morter...

woke late after last night's debauchery, made coffee, snaphphl'd vino and now sit in a blissful shroud drinking shiraz and listening to black randy and the metrosquad/ he and the mondays make me very very happy/ randy is closer to me in character than ryder or hannett/ the latter two i identify with in addiction, tolerance, intelligence but randy was also a sensitive chap, as is your humble narrator/ back to blissful shrouds...i recall getting a massive erroneous payment from x university and at the time was staying with my arets while anther storm calm down/ i went ot x bank on s-, with drew a cpl tunne and purchased a beautiful cohiba robusto/ i then strolled accross l- to a mroccan tea shop, puffing lesiurly on my cohiba, before reclinign divan wise and watching the oil light dance on the black waitressdses multi tone, shimmering skin/

the greater (rather diverse and 'quantious' (a work devised in best faith by a disciple)) the intake the more erratic my behaviour (and the less i remember of it)/ e.g. la nuit: several cans k follwed me to the spot where at Bz twain i procured and the obligatory over priced dubz/ then home for encore B, citalopram and then i flipped, before canvassing the neighbourhood for bottles of wine, an enterprise at which i was very successful/ i remember little else, but what?/

no comedians/ oh memories/ tunes can take you right back there/

much like belacqua i spend much of my time wandering and drinking (though mercifully the similarities end here)/ i have, as per, alot on my mind/ a lack of moral support from my family, atop everything else which ails me, weighs immensely/ how i pine (stille) for things to be different/ amusingly the necessity of them failing me is some comfort (i think we all crave some sort of regularity) but fundamentally it still hurts/ perhaps the perverse comfort one derives from whatever regularity is one of the minds ways of self-protection (who knows)/ so i intend to hide in here till i feel better/ i can really feel some sort of collapse approching and it terrifies me/ when i fall there will be no one there to catch me/ i need to escape (and since i cannot escape physically, i must employ other means)/ my chest is constricted, i'm sweating profusely, any sense of mental surity is rapidly deserting me/ i can handle physical malasie (just) but mental malaise (the kind which i know not how to control) really floors me/

listening to the mondays and rounding the day off with a can of iced k and 40mg citalopram/ the albas mother is in the area thus i'm hiding and staying sane/ as long as one has little hideaways, be they physical or mental, one can just about stumble through/ anyway i'm used to and enjoy hiding out/ another reasonably successful day/ might take alby out for a meal tonight/ i fancy tarragon steak and abrasive, overpriced wine/ currently reading hunger by hamsun and am blown away/ i've been reading bukowski alot of late because i identify with alot of his failingsa nd ge's very easy to read/ it is only when you read prose like hamsuns you realsie what a mediocre writer he is (although 'writer' is a vague term i cannot be bothered to refine my statement)/

pondered the dynamics of a film of the self's diaries en route to and from the pharmacy/ i dearly wish to convey what an absolute wanker the alba is and how deeply flawed i am/ one comfort i take from all i've suffered is i know how people are endeared to me and hate the alba/ how can anyone genuinely like a prick?/ i want detailoed scenes of the classic eton renuion in notting hill she came to with me ('they all say i'm a free floating person and how amazing that is. how many black women do you know who drink in pubs? you only exist in your comfort zone, but i...(continues)'/ this is just a brief fragment of an indident of which there are almost innumerable others/ what a prick/ i remember she even said when we were drinking with some of her colleagues that she hoped i didn't write what wankers they are (plato's subset at work again)/ anyway, i've the fire...i just need to channel it/

listening to howlin wolf and happy/ good night last/ cheated for small change by the infathomable 'murdoch', but what.../ slept in golden warmth and woke feeling refreshed/ yeah, booze...fucking ig-nor-ay-my/ l8rz...

well bore me shore who whore he?/ went tea tots yester but with cash in hand today had a divine can stella/ ran into one of my associates in tooting but was tragically low on funds/ offered him my divine angora scarf for trade but he thought i was joking!/ so with the funds i've i'll get drunk, sleep like a corpse dead in a copse fire and then tomorrow think of other ways to deal with myself/ walking on the common with alba and pater nticed thie tightests, fittest blond thing, 1979 splayed across her plump tight buttocks/ thus a course of running might find a destination for my raging libido and some variety/ with care of self i do incredibly well/ currently i still have a rough, robust attractiveness but my drinking physique is not for everyone and this girl was flie/ oh that ass!/

feeling good/ off to aa tonight/ it'll sharpen my skills and put an end to the constant nagging i suffer...

well, what a shock/ i am technically homeless and separated from my partner/ the house we were to move into is now no longer available to me because i speak my mind and do not let things go un said for the sake of a quiet life/ perhaps i'm more sensitive than most but the resentment which lurks and grows beneath the surface i feel acutely/ and judjing by the ractions of those i confronted, they must feel it too/ h'ever i refuse to feel bad, to suffer/ whilst my recent out burst has put me in a pretty undesirable position, at least we're liberated from the oppressiveness of other peoples bullshit and know exactly where we stand/ and when all of this is over, we'll be better than ever...

tis wednesday/ intake exceeding proper, though for now i cannot stomach recounting my intake of the last three days/ i take comfort from mentally going through an index of blackout drunk authors, most of whom survived till old age/ but how does one quit something one enjoys so much and doesn't compromise one's life?/ the only reason i might quit is the specter of horrible decay and death, but this seems so abstract it has no effect on me/ doing some painting and decorating today and praising the fact it's 1200 and i'm sober/

good day yester/ intake de: 3 cans k; 40cls scotch; 1 bottle cava; 1 can special brew; 4 rx; 360mgs citalopram; 6 pillules ignatia; 2 ibuprofen; 4 paracetamol/ then day before: 5cls islay single malt; 10 cans k; 240mg citalopram/how i'm stille alive i know not/ will attempt to take it easy today but well, you know how it goes/ surprisingly i don't feel too bad/ i slept for 12 hours and went for coffee around 1330/ currently sweating...

feeling good/ intake de yester: 6 cans k; double antis/ 'twas a great night/ got a howlin' wolf track which, amazingly i'd never heard before/

feeling good/ up early drinking tea/ took an anti to cheer me on, though initially i always feel a little off kilter/ intake de yester: usuals/ had no money (no centavo one) because of various actions of thursday night/ thus alba's sister ordered us a takeaway/ i don't feel too bad/ it never ceases to amaze me just how profoundly my physical and psychological bearing is affected by lack of sleep/ i sweat, my throat feels raw and dry, my stomach groans, my forehead burns; and my mind is usually crowded by faceless ghouls/ small wonder i was such a screwed up teen-early-to-mid-twenty-something/ sleep had been the making of me/ some see methadone as a millstone, but i know i was held back in ways far more profound before i started taking it/ i have been freed by this particular dependence/

mental me/ intake de yester: a fine margeaux; 35cls scotch; usuals/ as usual my day was a misadventure in the underworld/ what individuals i associate with!/ i no longer see it as ironic, though some of those i rub shoulders with find my public school accent hilarious/ i just can't stand people who adapt their persona to their surroundings...weak ass bitches

again sleeping prolifically/ autumnal winds stir the leaves of the tree outside my bedroom window and i doze richly/ divine/

been doing good/ intake de yester: 5 cans special brew; 35cls whiskey; 80mg citalopram/ fucking great/ haven't done an awful lot today/ slept a lot/ feel ok...

'd to remove last weeks postings so alba would not learn of my little skiing trip (snow, white, and i didn't want it causing another 'crack' in our relationship...geddit?)/ anyway, intake de yester: 5 cans special brew; 20cls whiskey; usuals/ feeling good/ been sleeping prolifically/ 've drawn a line (oh my sides!) under my little white binge and feel all the better for it/ 'd delicious coffee out this morning and now speculate on what to do with the rest of the day/

feel ace/ soon to lunch with alba and her cousin/ intake de yester: 1 can k; 5 cans strongbow super; usuals/ today woke at 0900, spent a pleasant hour in nero drinking coffee and reading the papers before returning home to excellent czech beer and several whiskeys (20cls highland cairn/ the cheapest in my second nearest offy (boycotting the nearest for the fucker refused me tick of 60 pence when i was spending upwards tenner a day there) but, much nicer than the similarly priced jacobite)/ thus flying/ just stole and read the first chapter of an appalling biography of comedian andy kaufman/ it compelled me to read on, like the morbid curiosity which causes people to slow down and stare at a car wreck/ the prose was so appalling i couldn't put it down/ anyway...pleasant soused as usual so we'll see what the rest of the day proffers...

intake de yester: 2 cans stella; 35 cls whiskey; 60mg ignatia; 24omg arnica; usuals/ now drinking tea and digesting an excellent b'fast/

stille nortie/ friday blitzed it with 7 cans k and dbl antis, stayed awake extremely late and ploughed though an eclectic catalogue of music, id est my limewire library/ then to lunch with parents yester and to view new abode/ stayed in watching movies last night/ intake: 1/2 bottle white wine; 2 cans stella; 35cls whiskey; usuals/ not feeling too bad/ a beer whiskey hangover is certainly less punishing than a k hangover/ moreover i've torched the bridge betwixt myself and my w connect/ thus any impulses i might have have nowhere to go/ this can only be a good thing/ smoking at 1030 t'other morning and generally disgusted with the dispositions and lifestyles of my fellow users i questioned seriously the merit of such activity/ endless need is a fucker/

very very very naughty/ intake de yester: 1 can k; 40cls whiskey; 1 bottle table wine; double antis/ christ/ went to a meeting with the abla and kept nodding off/ she had to elbow me continually to keep me conscious/ watched mercury awards last night and then passed out/ apart from chem res, feel okay/

teeth grind and mildly irritated throat such as typically accompanies my sleepless nights (by this i mean less ten hours - i'm catching up on quite a deficit, don't y'know?)/ anyway will secure a good bottle of margeaux later toujours - that'll cheer me up/ listening: abecedarians, smiling monarchs/

up early/ no booze coma so no long sleep/ i'm think i'm better off in the round with plenty sleep and a heavy booze residue...so, intake de yester: 1 bottle table wine; usuals (and since i missed wed., intake de wed: 5 cans strongbow super; 3 rox; usuals)/ am i back to a crackney thing?/ absolutely not/ i have control over this one/ distance plays a role/ in c-ney my guy live 30 seconds away/ here it's a good 15 minute walk and maybe some hassle and after a good meal and a bottle of red i cannot be arsed/ those evenings i have a mind too it's great because compared with some of the missions i've had to go on in the past this one is easy/ so i have the best of both worlds, i suppose...anyhoo, l8rz...

bin guuud bwoy/ yester: 1 bottle chilean shiraz; usuals/ just'd a beautiful b'fast of artisan bread, normandy butter, organic eggs and bacon and freshly squeezed oj, capped with a delightful treble espresso/ now back to bed with my beautiful woman to digest then work off some cals (cheesie!)/ so feel less buried than during heavy drinking/ rather than head to offy for my starter can of fortified cider i slept instead, most of the day in fact/ then rose around eight, got coffee and did weekly shop/ then home, watched beverley hills cop 2 and knocked up a superb supper: organic tolouse sausages, artisan bread (from sains/ this shit is fly), shallots sweated in normandy butter, some shit called 'devil's breath mustard' i got from a poncy deli on holiday, mayo with a side of gerkins and fries/ fucking delish/ rounded this with apple crumble and custard and some anti-depressants/ mynted/

clicked neck felt good/ missed AA ce soir/ always have the best intentions of going and fail roundly every time/

jesu!/ lucky i keep a detailed and honest to bog blog/ i am one wild motherfokkuh/ i just forget/ every night is an exercise in wildness, i just get so embroiled in what ever sensations occupy me at any one given moment that i forget, exemplar gratis, the nochtie of successful hustling and moseying two nights ago/ and it just goes on and on/ months of cataloged madness/ and at home i have a wooden chest full of notebooks cataloging similar exploits/ i just enjoy my lifestyle too much/ the negative aspects of ma vie are dwarfed by the salutary, heavenly, hedonistic attributes/

feel good/ intake de yester: 1 irish coffee; 2 cans red stripe; 3 cans k; 3 cans strongbow super; 3 aspirin; 2 paracetamol; usuals/ not bad, considering it was a day long thing/ thus woke feeling pretty good/ had divine coffee (regular) and stunning b'fast of thick, organic bacon, sunflower seed bread and grilled italian tomatoes drizzled with olive oil/ truly high was i on uplifting fare/ then boshed aspirins thrain (or three aspirin) just within satchel (or case) and now typing/ am to AA the neet though i always feel like it in the morning then, with the advent of my late morning-lunchtime drink my good intentions fly from the window/ c'est la vie/ i just love drinking so much/ if i could afford a habit, i'd clearly do that, but i can't and so alcohol is the next best thing/ and i've so many happy memories of drunken days and evenings and nights/ so many great times/ so we'll see what happens...

need nooh/ quack?/ quick?/ what?/ need what i've got and got it but what to do with it i don't know if i new i would not spend my whole life searching searching searching i search and search and search and question and obsess and let go and pick over things and numb myself (mainly numb myself) i do so every day always with the best of intentions but it does not take long to thwart them thoroughly is the sense of hope one awakes with and which is extinguished by heavy drinking worth what i get from drinking? 'tis after all a welt of weight and measure but when i see the behavior of individuals a lot older than me i do feel i know a lot more than they and indeed i do i've lived further than them in a far shorter space of time but what of my liver?

'd a pleasant day/ irish coffee for b'fast then typing and writing assisted by two cans of red stripe/ then to shop for three cans k, back and a, the cans drained, i downed my antis and ignatia, smoked the remnants of my hashish and retired to bed around 1500/ slept till 2130 and now cooking supper, aided by 2 cans strongbow super/ yes, i have a little problem, so off to alcos anon tomorrow/

waking up (though i've been up almost two hours)/ superb birthday yester/ intake: 1/2 bottle moet; 6 pints 1664; 1 dbl whiskey; 3 cans red stripe; 20mls famous grouse; 2 spliffs; usuals/ just poured myself a cafe bukowski (id est with whiskey)/ i begin alcos anon demain, and what a fine way to say ciao to a career in hedonism/ after my phenomenal breakfast went to stamford brook to the abode of my best friend greg, alba along too/ we had a quick drink and a spliff then headed to the pub where he works and the serious boozing began/ we managed a solid 5 hr session but greg had to go to work so we parted, came home, continued the party and listened to hours of phenomenal music, the experience made exquisite by the thc (something i have about 3 times a year so all the better when i do)/ all in all an amazing birthday, spanning as it has a fortnight/ piece out!

happy birthday me!/ today i am 28 years of age/ intake de yester: 1 w; 35cls scotch; 3 cans stella; usuals/ woke to a delightful breakfast of coffee, smoked salmon and eggs, champagne and orange juice/ also possessed some wonderful presents: baggy beige trousers; beautiful notebook; bodum cafetiere/ i feel wonderful/ went on a proper adventure last night/ managed to raise pounds 35 in no time, was invited home by no less than two girls (declined both/ no cheater i) then pissed got a divine w around 0230/ some foul whore attendant managed to ruin my stay however, but i let it go easy/ life is too good to ponder the actions of fools/ now off to tate modern, then my bro over for drinks, then my favourite restaurant tonight/ oh life is dandy/

feeling ok/ intake de yester: 5 cans strongbow super; 1 bottle table red; 5 w; the usuals/

de ool yurgenvyurg'n (id est moi) 's begun to diarise in several different locations: his desktop; at blogger; in a small muji notebook, where he also writes quotes and thoughts/ shambolic?/ no/ i (he) writes when the need takes/ thus a notebook for travelling; the desktop in the office for a change of location; and blogger for routine/ i just love to write/ when i first started to keep a diary i would do almost nothing else all day/ as a student of the university of london one has access to many beautiful libraries and reading rooms/ i would sit in beautiful reading rooms at heavy oak desks, walls lined with old leather bound books, writing in my leather bound diary whose thick ribbed paper would receive my inner most thoughts/ now i make my journal entries available to millions, but what matter?/ no one reads these blogs anyway...

Many signs portended a dark and stormy day.
Macaulay

feeling ok/ intake de yester: 5 cans strongbow super; the usuals/ woke late (around 1100) went to the pharmacy then out for coffee/ now sit and 'work'/ been quite a naughty chap again/ wednesday turned into a bit of a white excursion/ i promised myself i'd not connect locally but it was just too tempting/ however i refuse to have a repeat of hackney, no fakkin' wey/ not feeling compelled to write so will spill some wisdom later/ peace...

been watching a couple of peter doherty and katherine moss videos/ he seems a very sweet chap/ not a bad thing/ just seems obscenely dull currently/ however, can't believe that the drugs made him deteriorate to that extent/ it usually makes people more amusing forward-slash interesting but he seems to have been robbed of all ability to appear witty and-cetera/ as a young man he was a complete licker/ the press laud his academic abilities because he got a tonne of gcses and a couple of good a-levels/ well, so did my sister, and she achieved this not because she's intelligent (she's not) but because she worked her ass off (id est didn't ask questions)/ the most intelligent bloke at my public school was a rebel to the point he got less than 5 gcses and then got kicked out/ the genuine rebel does not conform at school/ but moreover as a conformist at school he still only managed to get into queen mary/ so.../ these people are absurdly overrated/ musicians are generally dumb, thus quoting someone with gravitas, whom they've perhaps even read in a book of quotations, gives them an intellectual appearance/ having come from a genuinely intellectual background makes this jar with me enormously/ as an intellectual one judges oneself against the intellectual heavyweights of the world (there is no one higher)/ thus the intellectual standards of people in the music industry seem to me (particularly because i like music and thus have some degree of respect for people in the industry) something i can't grasp/because their music does wonderful things for my emotions i naturally expect them to be articulate, intelligent, witty.../ but they aren't/ thus it seems an ability to create great music does not require great intellect/ these people have some degree of intelligence but nothing compared with what i'm accustomed to/ i think a of lack of self worth has a lot to do with it/ had i more self worth i think i'd have a lot less respect for these people/ why do i have a lack of self esteem?/ because my father was a complete cunt/ thus had he been someone i could have looked up to i would not so desperately look around for role models/ 'you should never meet your heroes'/ why?/ it's not the hero's fault/ it's the fans fault/ heroes are the construct of insecure individuals/ once one begins to get more confidence one begins to see one's heroes as people with certain abilities, not as someone beyond/ looking for anything beyond shows a distinct lack of satisfaction with the actual world/ now whilst 'actual world' is a highly ambiguous concept, i use it as against highly unrealistic ideals people posit because they can't face their own failings/ many people cannot face their own shortcomings, and they kid themselves in various ways/ one of these, as we've seen, is the (sometimes mass) creation of heroes/ and this is why i, and others, expect so much of these, largely, mediocre people/ we want them to be something we aspire to/ but they're not/ now i don't feel an enormous amount (or indeed any) sympathy for these people (id est the heroes)/ they revel in the adulation and get a great deal from e.g. having their ego's massages, blown, made love to magically/ so they cannot really castigate the public for expecting a lot from them/ they enter into this contract consciously, and if they don't realise what it entails, well, they're fucking idiots/ they can't expect the fame deal to be a one way street/ i agree that no one's privacy should be compromised to the point they feel threatened/ however, a lot of celebrities feel they should receive ceaseless adulation for their meager deeds and give nothing in return/ it is fine to feel that others expect too much of one, but when one

drinking/ 've'd an orgasmic after smkn crk, hn 'n' cigs/ drinking strongbow super/ taken usuals early for the ratio of 'each' was unfair/ also drinking, and it seems to be working/

intake de yester: 1 bottle organic cider; 1 can k; 1 bottle shiraz; usuals/ listening: happy mondays, tart tart (peel sessions)/ drinking: latte/ deciding how to spend the day/ shame i don't know how or have the inclination to develop my talent/ wondering how to get some/ off to buy absinthe soon...

've just spent the most insanely relaxing bank holiday weekend at the coast, hence no entries since friday/ so...friday got very drunk, went out for a fag at 0100 and walked to nearby tooting, where i tried to score crack/ got taken for pounds 15, though it didn't vex me greatly because it's the second time i've been skanked in a long and prolific career/ it was a meager amount and i broke all the rules of scoring: drunk to hell, no one knew me, i handed over money without seeing anything/ foolish but the guy left me with his pipe as security and i got a couple of nice hits off it/ then secured more booze from a very late night shop and moseyed home in the glorious pre-dawn fog/ it was poetic mate/ got home about 0400, sat up for a bit the went to bed/ luckily we were in a hurry the following day to meet my parents so i escaped a bollocking/ drove to suffolk with my parents and spent the following three days suspended in responsibility free bliss, all paid for by my parents/ lobster, sun, organic cider and moonlight walks/ bliss/ then home last night to a can of k and a bottle of shiraz/ watched chinatown, which was stunning/ listening: babyshambles, albion/

lack of sleep affects my disposition more profoundly than any toxin as it acts as a catalyst for a number of negative emotions/ i slept only two hours last night, a combination of quitting booze and far too much caffeine/ i think i slept from 0300 till about 0500, perhaps a little less, and rose at 0600 rather than lie there awake thinking about crap/ and oh lord, until i managed to sleep around 1400 this afternoon i felt anxious, extremely angry, insecure, a whole plethora of negative emotion crowded around me like angry ghouls/ so, back to drinking/ alba laid on the ultimate ultimatum and i desisted from scoring/ thus i back on the booze/ although it's worse for my health it makes her feel better and i guess this year i've been fairly active, and only in secret for a brief while/ now she's decided to put her foot down and as i can only deal with her wrecked but can't really cope without her (acute dependency issues don't you know) i'll take the booze...

need to sleep/ having been able to sleep at will for most of the past few years i now notice the adverse affects of my occasional bouts of insomnia all the more acutely/ waiting for the chemist to open...boring/ but so little is interesting/ worse still are contrived attempts to be interesting, be it in art or everyday life/ life is just fucking dull/

it seems i have been misinformed/ apparently combined alcohol and methadone use does not increase toxicity levels in the liver/ methadone alone causes no liver damage at all/ alcohol does cause irritation and damage to the liver and it is speculated that mmt patients are at higher risk of liver damage because a) hep c, which is common in previous iv users, causes liver damage and b) heavy drinking to 'top-up' the effects of methadone is also common/ i need not extrapolate/ i despair of the misinformed/ the individual who misinformed me read exactly the articles i just read and yet saw what simply was not there...

have quit drinking again/ intake de yester: 2 of each of my usuals/ thus slept about an hour/ up obscenely early and hearing sounds i remember from my insomniac past/ i have to quit drinking this time/ my previously excellent blood pressure has rocketed to near heart attack territory/ doc say if it don't improve v soon then i must take tablets (beta blockers) or worse hospital, dependent on tox. levels in my liver created by alcohol and methadone/ all possible scenarios are pretty horrific but still only possible/ one certainty however is that if i carry on no ddu will prescribe me methadone and i know the pain of withdrawal/ the pain of withdrawal from 3 years sustained high dose methadone i cannot even contemplate/ and thus came the jolt i've been praying for/ mercy...

i rue my failure to write an entry yesterday/ 'twas because intake de yester: 2 cans k; 40cls brandy; 1 bottle cabernet sauv.; usuals/ listening: beeth.'s bags/ so, a disturbing 34.5 units/ around early evening started to get confrontational culminating in my brother storming off and jo avoiding me/ must quit drinking/ off on holiday with m 'n' p 'n' alba on saturday/ m says it's a no booze break to avoid confrontation between me and p/ sounds reasonable/ my health continues to be fine/ seems these vitamin tablets do a sterling job/ and let us remember:

The artist is nothing without gift, but the gift is nothing without work.

Émile Zola

got wonderfully eitched toujours/ mundervar num-yah?/ alba not too pleased but hey, i am/ so...alba's retreated somewhere in protest but i'm sure she'll be back soon/ been sitting in the office smoking and listening to beethoven/ didn't realise the bagatelles were so lengthy/ nor did i realise 'bagatelles' was recognised by the blogger dictionary/ startling/

horribly hungover/ intake de yester: 6 cans k; 1 bottle chateauneuf-de-pap; usuals/ listening: beethoven, piano concerto no. 1, 2nd movement/ drinking: tea/ hmmm...i'm a stone fool/ why i drink that shit is not entirely beyond me but still, it does make me suffer the following day/ i feel horrific/ and 6 cans/ that's just sick/ the thing is, if i start early in the day it accelerates my drinking to the point i get out of control/ i think my unit total was 35.5/ horrifying/

not too hungover/ intake de yester: 4 cans k; 1 bottle wine; usuals/ listening: mendelssohn, piano concerto no 1, 2nd movement/ drinking tea and waking up/ just returned from the pharmacy/ i'm now under the charge of a different authority and must undergo a probationary period, which consists in picking up my methadone daily/ its not so bad though/ its a pleasant walk to the pharmacy and at least i get the correct dose/ god mendelssohn is truly divine/ all my classical's on vinyl so i've not listened to any in an age/ however the other day i found some tapes i made a few years ago of beethoven, mendelssohn, schubert, chopin and rossini/ thus've been listening to the constantly whilst i type/

feeling ok/ intake de yester: 1 bottle red; yoo-ju-lz/ listening: don't forget about me, simple minds/ drinking pleasant coffee, though i find adding cold milk to stove top coffee, whilst it brings it to the right temperature, spoils the flavor slightly/ yet when making iced coffee, pouring the espresso over ice then adding cold milk seems to bring the chocolaty undertones to the fore/ bizarre/ under dosed yesterday and the previous (the measuring caps provided seem to measure incorrectly) i dreamt of finding money, drugs deals, all, of course, flawed and never yielding that sweet golden powder/ up shot is that i have more to enjoy today so intend to gouch out on my surfeit this evening/ marvelous/ have taken to writing again/ recently acquired my childhood desk (a huge study oak thing) and my parents gave us a nice desk top computer/ thus i've created a very comfortable 'office' down the hall where i can sit and type in piece for hours/ it looks wonderfully bohemian: jazz records, spent wine bottles, ricard ashtray, &c/ have mainly been typing short narratives about notable evenings or periods in recent memory/ the paper announcing the a-level results immediately transported me back ten years and so i trotted out a narrative thereon/ my recent acquisition of some fine wines encouraged me to write a piece on my spree of fine food and wine last year/ many pleasant, sodden memories/

woke feeling shocking/ intake de yester: 3 bottles wine, 2 cans k, usuals/ listening: dirt, alice in chains/ i have to quit/ the problem is the methadone assuages hangovers so effectively that by the time i've had my shots and a cup of coffee i feel passable/ a prolonged period of malaise would be welcome as it would encourage me to quit/ however the side effects are not severe enough to force me into abstinence/ am still a true addict/ just reading about layne stayle's death and rather that think 'oh how terrible that he died' i thought' what a shame he didn't get to shoot the loaded syringe he had in his hand'/ i also felt jealous that he had the money and privacy to get really wasted/ oh what an addict i stille be.... / haven't used now in 2 weeks and 1 day/ thus when i eventually get it'll be great/

drinking beautiful iced coffee and nursing a monster hangover/ intake de yester: 4 cans k; 1 bottle margeaux; the usuals/ listening to: season of the witch, donovan/ leaving shortly for an appointment at the ddu (drug dependency unit)/ have not used for two weeks/ i think thats the longest i've been sans (or without) in three years/ i'm not impressed with my abstinence/ more upset in fact/ however, marcus my words, the moment i have some money i will to splurge a merry wee fortune on a big celebratory blow out/ oh yes/

egg-che-llent/ im-bye-b-d uno kannini du koy en root twain zoopermarshay/ within i did stollen einun £60 bouteille margeaux, season-of-the (id est 'witch') eye shull imbibe layter/ nyce/

veeling grayd/ intake de yester: 2 large glasses house white at lunch; 1 bottle shiraz; 1 bottle table red; und de course, the yewzualz/ listening: subterranean homesick blues, bob dylan/ bit of a delay at the pharmacy this morn but managed to get my 70mls, which i imbibed immediately/ then parents visited to deliver advice, a new computer and an old desk with sentimental value/ then imbibed fine iced coffee, chatted plesantly then saw them ophph/ went out for lunch and on way home purchsed three cans k/ currently on my third, typing and smoking/

feel q-mazing/ many wyne, v-numeenal zegz 'n' eye stille've my ssris twain professionally-ceed!/ crayshe lyphe!

feeling ok/ two cups of coffee, 60mls methadone and a good breeze are conspiring to enhance my enjoyment of the day/ have also cleansed so am feeling roughly 750, 000 bukz/ these antis are most certainly working/ ssris they are and i 'come up' on them, no joke/ about an hour after i take one my pupils are hugely dilated/ i read a short statement of how i felt about a fortnight ago (just before i started taking them) and i've improved massively/ still have a long way to go, and must conjoin them with counseling, but early signs are certainly encouraging/ so this eve i begin my reading regieme/ i'll benefit from it, no doubt/ i also need to purchase another notebook/ before i started to keep this blog, i wrote all in notebooks/ thus the house is strewn with them/ although i find keeping a blog a more orderly way of diarising, i miss having somewhere to write words and phrases i find appealing/ i've some great ones scattered hither and/ i'd a moleskin before, as used by some of the greats (viz. pablo, ernie, eff scott), and 'twas a beauty/ wonderful thick creamy paper, so i covered every spare inch in psychotic despairing musings/ i'll think i'll add a moleskin to my birthday list/

up reasonably early/ to lunch with a and m and p later/ intake de yester: 1 btl table wine, usuals/ listening: i looked at you, the doors/ picked up a remastered version of their eponymously named album t'other jour and have been having a touch of a revival/ an excellent band/ i was obsessed with them, and with jdm (james douglas morrison) from about the age of 12/13/ this obsession lasted until i got into rave culture heavily/ recently, having read a lot of decent literature, i started to hate them for jdm's cringingly bad lyrics/ then i heard them a couple of months back on a tv rockumentary and remembered just what a great band they really were/ all their albums, produced in a five year period, are exceptional/ i know every lyric and musical nuance they ever produced, so this revival is also a pleasant exercise in nostalgia/ i must start reading again/ this has been a bad year for books/ i've read some great ones, but very few/ and reading makes my brain feel great/ instead i sit in front of the tv for several hours every evening, my brain silently rotting/ never mind.../ right, today i will force myself to read in the evenings/ there are enough rooms in this house for me to have a study, so i shall set up a study and retreat there every evening and read or write/ i just tend to blanch at anything which i know is either not going to give me pleasure or will take a bit of an effort to get the pleasure out of it/ that said, i'm willing to travel for two hours to score heroin, so i'm talking shit/ i shall learn to read!...

so yeah...nothing on tv, of which i watch far too fucking much/ man if i spent the time i spend in front of the tv on more productive tasks i'd undoubtedly feel more fulfilled/ but, i don't, so fuck it/

feeling good/ phenomenal b'fast of smkd smn and free range organic scrambled eggs on the freshest granary toast i've experienced yet/ then back to bed, where i stayed sleeping soundly till about half six pm/ now watching mtv and sipping table vino/

still drunk/ intake de yester: 1 bottle syrah; 2 cans k; 1 can stella; 20cls whiskey (roughly 30 units)/ currently listening to nashville skyline, bob dylan/ stupidly filliped last nochtie, consequenting in my walking to not-so-nearby tooting broadway to buy booze at about 0130/ got back about 0330 and i was walking pretty much constantly/ if i carry on like this i won't make it to 40/

feeling good/ went back to be around 1300, rising again at about 1630/ must be sleeping off mild sickness/ i usually imbibe 50mls/day and my recommended dose is 70mls/day/ amazing considering the 6 shots of espresso i'd imbibed/ about to uncork a bottle of shiraz (or syrah)/ time is 1745 (though my blog registers the time somewhere else in the globe)/ my profile's been getting a bizarre number of hits, so i can only assume people are reading my blog/ happy days/ need to go out and get a job/ just read something the alba wrote and she's terribly depressed/ i guess i'm not as good at reading people's thoughts as i think/ what to do i have no idea/

intake de yester: 1 btl shiraz/ currently listening to: break on through(to the other side), the doors/ feeling ok/ antis're definitely working/ general disposition far improved/ ace/

feeling a tad off kilter/ intake yester: 2 bottles wine, 2 cans k/ units: 28.8/ shit/ i have to quit drinking/ have to/ problem is, i enjoy it so much/ giving up skunk was easy/ i caught acute cannabis psychosis, resulting in my experiencing the most terrifying paranoia whenever i lit a joint/ thus i stopped rolling joints/ heroin and crack: moved out of the area and haven't tried to connect locally/ i'm also on methadone (which is key: were i not nothing in the world would prevent me from traveling north daily and latterly finding someone locally)/ but alcohol: it is fucking everywhere and i still fucking love it/ i've decided to add a new feature to this blog/ as well as intake de yester i will also inform you what i'm listening to/ i am currently listening to the excellent wind coda on lou reed's hudson river wind meditations album/ it's bizarre/ i'e noticed a small but regular increase in my profile views, yet no one ever leaves comments/ i assumed it was the same few people checking it out regularly but then why would they check my profile each time they look at my blog?/ a mystery.../ sipping delicious coffee and contemplating how to spend the day/ a leisurely stroll to the shops and a good wank have improved my disposition/ when i've finished my coffee i'll cleanse, wash and then perhaps write some more/ i should really try and write stories, but i'm not disposed thus/ besides i've been put off the medium a bit/ yesterday i read a concatenation of contrived nonsense masquerading as a collection of cutting edge short stories in the times weekend magazine and was left enfarced with rage/ it was peerless shit/ is there no integrity left in writers?/ i understand they have deadlines to meet &c, but really it's no excuse/ and believe me, i'm not 'playa hating'/ this is about writing/ i would rather languish in obscurity, or less, if to be published meant churning out guff like that/ i shudder to think/ shudder tremor quiver.../

RIP Tony Wilson

it is with great sadness that i write this blog/ whilst this guy obviously had his faults one should be known by one's deeds not by intentions good or bad, as the great pope said (a. pope, by the way - i'm sure the head of the catholic church would hold that the inverse is true)/ i learnt about factory, joy division, mondays, late in the day/ in fact i'd got to a point where i was convinced i'd nothing great left to discover/ and then, as i watched 24 hour party people, a great blinding surge of wondrous light occurred, as i heard transmission by jd / and i became hooked (as i usually do to great blinding surges of wondrous light) / i immediatley went out and bought their four most important albums/comps (unknown pleasures, closer, substance, still) and played them continuously for about 6 months/ at one point i would listen to substance on repeat all day long, mosying over the park to score one of each with a can of k in hand and then, elegantly slumped in my leather arm chair, would listen in slack-jawed rapture/ glorious memories/ through 24hr pp, nay wilson, i discovered the fall, mondays, a certain ratio, vini reilly, joy division, i experienced a renewed interest in the sex pistols, and developed an obsessive interest in the whole punk and post-punk scene/ this film, nay tony, sent me on a musical journey, one i'm still on a year later/ his death, at an obscenely young age (particularly for someone who wasn't a habitual cainer (as so many factory associates were)), is a fucking mocking slash in the face of all that's right and proper/ why are so many bright lights, individuals who do genuinely meaningful stuff which positively affects people lives, struck down prematurely?/ i see wilson's death as another reason to believe in god just to hate him...

A philosophy like Hegel's is a self-revelation of the psychic background and, philosophically, a presumption. Psychologically it amounts to an invasion by the Unconscious. The peculiar, high-flown language Hegel uses bears out this view -- it is reminiscent of the megalomaniac language of schizophrenics, who use terrific, spellbinding words to reduce the transcendent to subjective form, to give banalities the charm of novelty, or pass off commonplaces as searching wisdom. So bombastic a terminology is a symptom of weakness, ineptitude, and lack of substance."

– Carl G. Jung, On the Nature of the Psyche, 1928

thus is one of my favorite philosophers of old battered by cg/ my reason for deciding to study hegel was that he was perceived as so difficult that people would generally shy away from studying him/ i thought therefore that if i could at least give the impression of understanding him it would look good to the examination board/ however after a while i started to fall in love with his ideas (rather his system of ideas)/i was seduced by what is essentially religious longing dressed up as reason/ but i was smoking a lot of skunk at the time...

intake yester: 3 bottles wine/ enjoyed an icy reisling at lunch then a lovely chilled rose, served me by a gay dwarf, saw off the afternoon and a bottle of shiraz kept me company till around 0200 this morn/ went out and saw simpsons movie last night/ twas a good sequence of gags but little else/ hugely enjoyable though/ when home watched my recently purchased godfather dvd/ put on ii after but realised i'd not be to bed till sun up so quit after 20mins/ off to see consultant about my future presently/ should be fun/

so yes reader, as i write this, my hundreth blog, i feel such wonderful happiness (indeed, i smile at my happiness)/ the sex last night had all the wonderous intensity of the first time you sleep with someone really fit/ and to celebrate, as i have the flat to myself for a few hours, i've purchased a bottle of award winning reisling, a stone baked pizza and ten marlboro reds/ divine...

intake of yesterday: 1 bottle shiraz, 50mls extra methadone, usual usuals/ excellent night/ entertained the family alba and then had phenomenal sex, like when you first meet someone/ it was great, nay mind blowing/ that girl has a phenomenal body, perfect skin, an ass to die for (indeed, it is one of the finest butts in existence)/ so, suffice to say it was an amazing night/ today i rose around 0945, went to pick up my script, went for coffee, read the paper and now contemplate brunch and an afternoon of lazy writing/

ripped on caffe/ just returned from nero where i imbibed two treble shot lattes and am feeling the burn/ intake of yesterday: 1 btl table wine and the usual anti and hedralz/ slept ok/ as usual vivid dreams/ so, on waking read some of my 'work' and was very impressed/ amusing how my opinion of my writing oscillates from wonder to deepest despair, and no where does it light betwixt/ getting gym pass today/ must work off some of this mammoth weight/ have conceived a fantastic notion/ when working out i'll listen to classical, as i used to, though a different opera, symphony, concerto, whatever each time/ my workout shall last the length of the piece/ this is both constructive and enriching/ reading improves my writing massively but classical music, i found, tightens the rhythm and meter of my prose/ it becomes bare and elegant/ and i do not consciously try to make my writing more taut and skeletal: it just happens as a result of this practice/ i used to call it subliminal learning/ i would play classical or recordings of me reading philosophical texts whilst engaging in something else/ and the evidence (e.g. better writing) i think proves it works/ so...permit permit permit/ are you permitted?/ self-control/ are you permitted to actualise yourself?/ or are you imprisoned, a victim of your fears and desires?/ i'm the latter/ however i feel when my inevitable release is secured i'll embrace life all the more voraciously/ not in a mid-life-crisis sense, which smacks of desperation/ no, in an irresistible hyde-ian sense/ it happened to me once before, when my antis started to climax/ and it'll happen again/ i cannot wait/ my enjoyment of life became voracious when the antis started to really kick in/ i became what i am anyway but un-immured/ and i flew/ what has been most agonising about my situation is acute awareness of my troubles and their causes and complete impotence to improve/ well, not quite complete/ i am on my way and out of choice/

damn and blast/ just visited the doctors and i'm obese/ at six foot i stand and weigh in at 16 and almost a half stone/ shocking/ the booze has well and truly possessed me/ i found out after that wine and cider (my two favorites) are also two of the most fattening/ cider clocks in at 240cals/can, k possibly more as it is far stronger (i have no evidence to support this theory however)/ wine is also very fattening, coming in at 176cals/175ml glass/

second cup of delicious tea imbibed and i'm feeling good/ need to stop drinking/ this is only because i am vain/ last summer i was lithe and sexy/ now i am fat/ not horribly soft and fat, more manly bulk, but i do miss my lithe physique/ i like to be flattered and one invites little flattery when one is overweight/ perhaps i should start working out/ after all, it would give me something to do/ i could rise at seven and work out till about eight or half eight every morning/ i used to do up to three hours at the gym a day/ mainly weights but i got hooked on running latterly/ i used to run half marathons on the fly/but although i'm not exactly happy at the moment i believe i was even more depressed then/ that level of exertion is tantamount to punishment/ explorers (intelligent ones) know there is something missing (or something that shouldn't be there) and it is this which spurs them on to do great things/ however no matter how great the achievement i find the mind set essential for achieving these things in the first place necessarily precludes any real enjoyment of them/ a paradox, no?/ it seems also that the more capable one in, the greater the price one pays for one's capabilities/ e.g. a vivid imagination can be the most wonderful or the most terrible thing/ this is where a psychiatrist would say one has to start taking control of one's thoughts/ strength of mind/ my psychiatrist told me to repeat that i love myself over and over/ soon the mind becomes accustomed to love as an immediate reaction rather than hate/ one is better off all round for this/ i dunno/ i find seritonin massively important/ i've always veered blue or even blackwards but i can safely say that ecstasy and it's seritonin depleting abilities has had a massive effect on my mental health/ booze too/ i even noted in a diary about a year ago how since i'd taken up the practice of regularly imbibing kestrel super the morning sun failed to ignite a spark of hope in the old soul/ indeed, the glorious morning light after a good nights sleep (which i was getting cos of the methadone) would invariably cause the old soul to flood with golden joy/ but once the hangovers started, no more/ however i drink, nay do all these things, out of boredom/ because i lack strong inclinations in other, less ruinous directions/ whatever i do i do in a thoroughly committed, self-aware fashion/ if i could apply these qualities to say, my writing, i'd excel/ but the natural impulse must precede any such endeavor/ my obsessions are unpretentiously sparked/ i did not set out to get into french cooking/ i simply read and tried a few recipes and was utterly hooked/ i excelled rapidly from a guy who could cook only bolognaise to someone who could cook fine french dishes that made mouths orgasm/ i was shit hot/ same with philosophy, hi-fi, we-hunting, cunnilingus, my various addictions, mathematics: everything i've had the impulse to obsessively apply myself to i've been hugely successful at/ so i'm waiting for the next thing...

hmmm...up early (0630)/ yesterday's intake (my intake yesterday): 1 bottle of table wine, the usual adjuncts/ up early parce que woke and couldn't get back to sleep immediately/ i just lay there torturing myself with awful imaginings so i rise and drink tea and sleep later/

feel i should be writing but don't really feel enthusiastic, angry or depressed about any things/ watching another 48hrs/ about to go and cleanse/ many things are better left alone/ it is not safe to step through the window, door, whatever into one's true self/ my eyes: never have i seen so much hate/ i cannot be the other self, hyde.../ i just can't...

feeling ok/ pretty healthy actually/ these tablets give me an almost instantaneous lift/ bottle of cheap table wine is all i've managed this evening, but it's better than nothing/

good day/ rose at 0930, drank tea, ate boiled eggs with granary toast, drank more tea and then went back to bed/ slept till 1740 and now watch simpsons/ wonderful/ feel as it i'll live to be a million and two/ just had a pot of tea and soon off to shops/ no doubt a healthy supper/ skint till wednesday so booze prospects are bleak/ no doubt a good thing/

feeling ok/ intake de yester: 1 bouteille cava, 4 cans k (or p'haps five...i don't recall)/ anyhow, seem to have slipped again into a many united gridlock/not good/ i imagine my liver swollen and glowing foully/ i will therefore forgo drink ce soir/ the antis seem to be working/ docs claim nothing happens for three weeks or so but i noticed a change as soon as i started to take them/

pu0hukked/ tryed to get aroused in a chat room but it wasn't that special/ no porn does it for me no more/ thus syppin' k/ intake toujours: 1 bottle kava; three cans k/ later i'll imbibe more k and some citalopram (20mgz)/ jubilANT TIME SYSEZ, BROWWWWZ!!!!!!!!!

feel exhausted today/ intake of yester: 2 bottles cava, 1 bottle sauv blanc and 40 mg citalopram, plus the usual homeopatyhic s/ not sure why i feel ropey/ probably the excessive amount ofd booze/ however, on going to bed i dn't feel thst drunk/could have easily downed another couple of bottles, locked ass i was into that state of mind one can acheieve where no amount of drink will get one drunk/ i also topok twice my prescribed medicsation which probably wasnt a good idea/

lamentably no post yester because busy and then phukk'd, so intake of: 1 bottle wine with lunch; 1 can k cider; 1 large rock of excellent crack; 2 further cans of k; 1 bag of delightful heroin; 1 bottle of wine with supper; 20mg citalopram; 3000mg flaxseed oil; 1 cod liver oil tab with eve primrose/ woke feeling fine fine fine, boshed paracetamol twain and have just had delicious coffee from nero/ out soon in the delicious summer blueness/ it is truly a day to rejoyce in the marvel/

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons..." - T.S. Eliot

didn't realise till seeing this burrough's plagiarism/ i've seen lyphe measured out in spoons, droppers/ maybe a paraphrase/ however even if plagiarism who cares?/ besides it is true/ mein lyphez bin measured out in bottles and bags and pills for years now/ initially bags of heroin, then physeptone (methadone) pills, then pills and bags, then many many many bags, then many many many bottles of (illicitly procured) methadone and many bags of heroin, then daily 90ml bottles of legal methadone and again, many many many bags of heroin/ and on it goes/ today i'm much better in my use/ whilst my use 'on top' (i.e. surplus to my methadone script) has gone from very heavy (6 bags a night) to minimal (6 bags a week) i have developed a serious alcohol problem/ but i then i had a serious alc prob even when i was using heavily on top/

drynk'n'/ one can stella within am now working way through bottle one shiraz (14%)/

feeling good/ intake de yester: 2 bottles shiraz (13.5%), 8 cigarettes, 20mg citalopram, usual herbal adjuncts (2 1000mg flax seed oil tablets; 1 cod liver oil with evening primrose tablet; one multivitamin)/ woke feeling rather nice around 0830, made coffee and went to pick up my methadone script/ have just, at 1140, completed breakfast and am, obviously, typing/ my hearts not really in it however, so i'll bare the old soul recently/

absolutely/ i even love the taste of my own belches/ that must and can only be a good thing/ crazy is a word people bandy around as meaninglessly as genius, good, great, gifted, bad, evil, animal, all that shit/ fuck it/ let me be/ let people be/ be what you are/ don't fuck about/ i've fucked about and wasted so long it ain't even funny/ not even vaguely humerous/ you cannot even raise a mild snicker, no/ i don't care/ caring is the death of the self/ take the idea of karma, for example/ doing something good?/ no/ doing something beneficial for the self/ but it's so indirect/ why not do something good directly for the self?/ fuck 'karma'////

i do not give a shit what the doctors say/ i've had one and already i feel the better self creeping in/ i will dominate the world

feeling marvelous/ docs app went smoothly: one month's supply of antis have i/ and now i've also b twin and cans twain k/ rather foolishly i have been unable to fathom the cause of my recent lethargy/ my tiredness has been manifest thus: constant lack of energy, tendency to sleep all night (0000 till 1100, 1200, sometimes even 1300), then post lunch maybe a nap around 1430, 1500 which can stretch till up to 1900/ then up, supper, drunk and home (sorry bed) again around 0000/ i've just inhaled some c21h23n05 and i feel marvelous/ thus my lethargy has been an aspect of low level withdrawal/ until a couple of weeks ago i was smoking daily, and no small amount/ the last fortnight i've been smoking max twice weekly and not much either (typically 2 or 3 bags)/ clearly using daily on top of my methadone for many months would engender another habit/ i've been on mmt for over a year now, and have used daily since/ to not develop a habit under such circumstances would be impossible/ so, i developed a heroin dependency atop my meth dependency/ and we all know what happens when amounts are reduced or types of shit are withdrawn/ yes, withdrawal/ and i've not only had my meth reduced, i've, as stated, gone from daily heavy use to twice weekly mild/ alcohol is the only (pleasant) spanner in the works/ i wake pissed, booze doesn't wear off till about 1700 next day, and by then i've usually started drinking/ thus between sleep and drunk i feel very little of the horrible pain of sykness/ this is a good thing/ now i'm where i am (as, invariably, we all are) i intend to stick with very occasional use (once/twice a week) so as not to pick up another habit/ i'll also gradually reduce alc intake ( a necessity anyway on antis)/ so my only dependence soon will be methadone and antidepressants/ marvelous!/ if any fellow bloggers would like to leave comments i'd be tickled rouge/ bye!

am crying out for antis/ head v. bad this morn./ intake of yester: 1 btl shiraz (14.5%)/ so yes, my head feels terrible/ i had awful, vivid dreams and woke feeling i could not sleep anymore/ thus up at seven thirty am and typed and read/ then to cafe for coffee and now home and cooking b'fast/ my appointment with the doc is at 1430 and not a moment too soon/ i cannot go on like this/ i feel awful: tearful, low and weak/ thankfully the bitch has passed the mantle to me/ like aforestated, i was depressed when i met her but she's taught me the real meaning of depression/ i am just not enough of an arse-hole to pay her pack in kind (though i wish i was)/ i need to get over it and move on/ i've wasted almost an entire life sunk in terrible woe/ the last few years have been particularly bad though/ it may seem i write obsessively about these things, and i do/ but i have very little else to write about/ this is my life...

• I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
  • Hamlet, scene ii

it's 0000 midnight/ i've'd
a bottle of shiraz, 14.5%/
feel good...

might continue thus/

how terrible is it when wisdom brings no profit to the wise...

feeling good/ out for 'business' lunch yester daytime/ intake: btl and half wine and a sambuca with lunch; half bottle wine and spliff at clam's; seven pints at pub; can stella and several zoots back at clams/ heavy, man/ slept like i was dead at malc's then back to bed around 1300 after brunch at home/ slept on and off till 1900/ the up for treble latte, did shopping and now typing/ drinking an excellent shiraz and eating divine artisan bread with ultra-yet-to-have-it's-hymen-compromised oil/ wasp-tree (id est di/d/b/bee/wasp and vine/tree)/ nice/

feeling ok/ intake yester: 1 btl wine (13.5%, 10.1 units); 2 cans k (8.4 units); 3 rocks crack; usual homeopathic adjuncts/ discovered some enzyme pills but have just noticed they're past their use by date so chucked them/ shame/ i took a couple the other day and felt pretty awful, so that could be the reason/ have cleansed and moisturized, and this evening will treat myself to camphor cleansing cream and some divine wine/ will also be cooking an italian meal for the alba and hopefully wonderful sex'll ensue/ have been contemplating a trip north but think i would rather great food and sex/ reading miller's ...cancer which is fantastic, i mean really great/ hmm, tonight great wine, food and sex/ i like/ have taken to writing in my journal again/ usually transcribe but don't think i'll bother/ no one reads this blog anyway/ i simply use it as a journal out of habit/

The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and mangled mind leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
- Elizabeth Drew

sometimes you eat the bar and other times the bar, well it eats you.../ finally have a docs app. tuesday next so will have old hyde restored very soon/ this makes me very happy/ intake yester: wine, bottles twain (a charming rose and a good red), plus the usual herbals/ i'm also taking some dietary pills i found that increase enzyme production/ can't do any harm/ watched clockwork orange (again) and enjoyed it enormously/

drinking rose/ finally cut my hair (shaved close) and feeling ok, though exhausted/ shall go out later and get some drugs, me thinks/ not sure if i really want the effort of traveling, but i do love my drugs/ oh yeah/

Be patient and tough; some day this pain will be useful to you. - Ovid

pulled the above from a blog whose author blatantly read books of quotations/ they're a fast track to seeming educated/ however i find some quotes, particularly one's of the above ilk, inspiring/ not because i'm desperately searching for some wisdom to make my life not appear a complete waste (well, not entirely)/ i am aware that this is true/ i've been out of depression once and was it sweet/ much better than life before depression (what am i saying, i can't remember life before depression)/

0920

(those bits where time is recorded i've written outside) feeling ok/ up early, to pharm. 'n' now sit in nero/ up since 7 drinking tea and writing/ sent lists to innovative and cpl stories/ re-read 'notes...' today and it is uber dark/ what i like is my style is my own/ it is not reminiscent of anyone elses, which is something i suppose/ horrible argument with jo last night/ i have to sort my head out or get the guts to leave/ h'ever i now understand the phrase 'the comforts of madness'/ maybe i'll live one day.../ she just does so much weird shit/ i know she's had a horrible life etc but that doesn't excuse everything/well...

i need to look more outside myself/ i know this is not something most people do but it's no excuse for me to not do so/ moreover concentrating exclusively on one's own feelings is ruinous to self/ so, if i think not of other's feelings for other's sake let me do it for the reasons people believe in karma/

a good day/ wine intake: bottles one and half/ mid-after suffered extreme exhaustion so'd a large coffee to try and pick self un-down/ un-down, a state i've not experienced in a while/ 've my papers for the local doc./ before close of week antis shall be mine/ shall be mine...i've felt like shite fur length suffice...oot

divine evening yester/ the gear was wonderful, absolutely delicious/ the bags looked enormous but were just badly wrapped/ however quantity was not so bad and quality excellent/ quality has now been at an all time high for almost a month/ i accompanied it with a can of k and 22.5cls brandy/ by 0030 i was in the clouds, i mean high/ it was really very spectacular/ slept like a child and woke this morn feeling pretty good/ have just imbibed my usual ethiopian and 60mls methadone and am about to cook/ then work/ i must acquire more of the same gear/ no one should be denied experiences of that calibre/

good day yester/ bottle wine one and the usual homeopathic adjuncts/ slept long and solid/ off nth soon for the yew-jus-al/ nye (nice)/ reading miller (still)/ i've not actually been reading it/ rather i've been immersing myself in the facts of rock/ not doing much writing either/ have to prepare several pieces for a magazine and am trying to hawk a short story/ boring/ had a good morning, listening to soul and generally relaxing/ looking forward very much to a smoke this evening/ will write more later/

not a bad day/ excellent yester: went shopping for books neath the bridge at waterloo, then out for a fine meal at our favorite italian restaurant in soho/ intake: 2 bottles wine/ woke early this morn and attended appointment at clinic, a run in and piss/ then home, exquisite breakfast and then slept till four/ then up to attend hospital/ now home sipping excellent shiraz and cooking game/ i just realised how little i attend to ideology in my writing/ my old diaries were steeped in self-analysis and speculation/ however a lot of that (i.e. relentless questioning and the desire to do so) has been laid to rest in me/ this is a good thing/ i'm not sure if i've resolved a lot of issues or i just can't be bothered but i certainly feel a lot more at peace with myself/

surprisingly feeling ok/ intake of yester: 3 bottles wine/ i had an excellent shiraz, a horrible chianti and a reasonable cabernet sauv/ pissed i made ferocious love to the alba and then sat in rapture ecouting to hendrix/ no matter how many times i hear 1983 it still blows my mind/ off to an art gallery this after/ then home for more love construction/ i really do love sex/ i mean really love it/ and because we've been together for 8 years we're very good at it/ so last was a really excellent night, and tonight shall be also/ was quite productive on the writing front yester/ managed several pages of 'fiction' and have been keeping an eye on various competitions, up-coming magazines &c./ to be a writer one must write every day, and i do/ but i must step up my reading/ this year i've read: b'fast at tiffs; last exit...; ...enderby; clockwork...; and half daisy miller; oh and a slice (maybe pages 40) lady j and john t; not great/ i am however steeped in pretentious, garrulous music reviews, sated on the meats of the culture sections of various broadsheets, drenched, nay drowning in a sea of news, both serious and celebrity, courtesy of metro, london lite, london paper (the), grazia, now, tattler and many more of ilk not dissimilar/ enough of the tenuous and mixed metaphors (well not mixed - each sentence segments metaphor is internally consistent, though i do rattle out not a few of difference) ed./ which reminds me, a staple of many years, the private eye, has not enjoyed my patronage for some time/ i used to devour it religiously/ so the writing is going quite well/ i do love writing/ i also adore reading/ when i cast my mind back to period when i've been immersed in a good book i remember that time very fondly/ it seems to enhance life in many and various ways/ a good book makes the brain feel fantastic/ it also gives one a richer palate of perspectives/ and ones writing become more eloquent/ i always marvel at how poetic my journal entries are during a period when i'm reading copiously/ when i was a serious addict in finsbury park i read a number of the classics and became such a fit reader i devoured roy porter's 700 treatise on medicine and philosophy, flesh in the age of reason in no time/ its a great book by the way reader and well worth checking out/ so a fit reader makes for a good writer (in me anyway)/ currently i seem to have the writing bug but not so much the reading/ this is a shame/ i'm enjoying james' miller and intend to continue working my way through the books on my shelf once i've completed it/ i was toying with the idea of reading paradise lost again/ i read all twelve books when commuting the other year and it was an amazing experience/ i'd alight battered on verse/ beautiful and remarkable it was/ but no/ i've read a fair slice of purgatory by old dante, so should finish that/ i also intend to make light work of nietzsche, as i've pretty much all his books and have hardly read any of them/ i also have a lot of henry james, some dos., plenty poetry, some chandler/ i want to get back into henry miller/ i was a big fan as a teenager/ i carried a salaciously designed copy of sexus everywhere with me when i was about 15/ i also dressed in a miller style - loose beige slacks, leather brogues of light tan and a loose light blue shirt, notebook and sexus resting under my arm, thick hair unkempt/ i don't remember if i finished it/ in those days books were far more of a prop, an adjunct of my fierce individuality/ i loved to carve idiosyncratic images for myself, cool by individual images/

as usual, a beautiful wine from sainsburys (banrock shiraz, pounds 7.99 down to pounds 3.99) and a vile wine from over the road (chianti at pounds 4.99)/ unbelieveable/ i'm not sure if his wine is horribly stale or just naturally really bad, but i literally have to wretch it down/ never mind/ a fine supper of wild mushroom and parmesan risotto coupled with pork escalpoes fried in normandy butter and ultra haven't-had-sex-yet olive oil/

the writing is going well/ i've set myself the very achievable task of writing one page each morning and one each evening/ thus by the end of the week i'll have fourteen pages/ i'm basically writing a succession of short stories/ the first went well/ i've now started the second/ however i'm ill prepared to write a lot of what i have to write/ a lot of it is incredibly painful to remember and i write by putting myself back where i was and remembering everything as it transpired/ thus i have to live out all of these painful experiences again/ i think this might be incredibly cathartic/ i'm hoping too that my girlfriend, who finds it hard to see beyond her own emotions, might be given a nasty shock and realise just how hard things were for me/ from her behavior at the time it was evident she;d adopted her usual stance: no one's suffering is a significant as mine/ i just wrote a page and some of it made me weep/ i hope her very least reaction will be to weep/ i hope she realises just how badly she let me down/ of course, she occasionally cottoned on, even at the time, in sporadic moments of drunken self-realisation/ but most of the time she was a very cold, nasty person/ she'd found some fairly needy people to buy into her cause and so everything that had transpired before and had got us to that point was negated/ i was just the enemy, and she, as always, the victim/

no entry yester/ bad writer/ intake: one bottle wine (14%); 2 cans stella; usual homeopathic adjuncts/ afternoon nap of 3 hours/ night of 11/ sitting sipping etheopian and speculating on how to waste the day/ oh if i could seize/ well, soon/ friday's appointment ok/ they won't put me up to 90mls/ and i've to seek an outside doc. for antis/ so not too pleased, though the building is proof they are well funded: a lavish art deco structure/ i'm now treated somewhere looks like an art gallery rather than a comprehensive school circa 1960/ good news is they might be able to sort me out with psychotherapy/ i'm only 27/ many years yet/and thus far i have learnt alot/ when one passes out of depression one is almost thankful (for experiencing the depression)/ one emerges with a more rounded perspective/ excess and wisdom etc/ i think an excess of any type of perception or experience will necessarily give one a broader outlook/ i'm not feeling too hot at the moment (have not been for a while) but i know from experience that when i emerge from this spell i'll be the better for it/ and then i can grab life by the nuts/ it seems everyone's had their period in the sun/ well i'm going to get mine/working on a story at the mo'/ found a magazine who want to publish some of my stuff/ i should really get my stuff out there more/ however i only really enjoy writing my diary/ i've been keeping a diary for 5 or 6 years now/ they are scattered all over the house/ only recently have i started to keep a digital one/ i find it extremely addictive/ when i set out to write a piece in some other form i find sentences flow easily but its a chore the shoehorn these bits into a pre-determined structure/the only structure of a diary is that it is linear/ stories usually require a bit more structure/ however what's stopping me writing diary as fiction?/ i've also been considering a pseudonym/ did you know mark twain was a pseudo?/ until yesterday, neither did i/ so is tom stoppard; fay weldon; voltaire; tennessee williams/ john le carre; george orwell; jack london; anthony burgess (although the relation here is both were his middle names)/ fascinating/ i know that as soon as the citalopram take hold i'll be way out there/ what worries me is that it gave me such confidence that my infidelities became manifold/ i kissed other girls whilst out with mine/ i'd meet her having just been with a prostitute/ i justified my infidelities with the argument: well, i ain't getting any at home/ if i never broached the subject again we would drift into old age without a single sexual act occurring/ she, of course, has a bizarre relationship with sex/ and it pains me infinitely/ but what would you do reader?/ people say, oh thats terrible, you should leave her if you're not getting what you want from the relationship/ well, what stupid advice/ so easy to give, but anyone who's been in a long term relationship with someone and been through a lot will know, it is so hard to know what to do/ and there is, i'm convinced, no right answer/ its very easy to moralise when looking in from the outside/ but no one really knows what goes on between a couple but the couple/ and advice given always has an agenda/ well more on me later...

dull day/ intake of yester: pint 1, stella, bottles twain, white wine (12%)/ i acquired a particularly vile pinot grigio from the off license opposite the estate around 10pm/ must have gone off/ however since it contained alcohol i persevered/ went to bank this morning to change a mountain of coins, the value of which was pounds 41.92/ so off to nth soon and then will complete the ensemble with a nice organic shiraz/ bliss/ am still taking supplements and cleansing/ my abstinence from alcohol lasted only four days/ i first slipped because i felt so awful/ yesterday i drank to celebrate/ and today with 2 or 3 'blue' in hand i can't not, really/ attempted a short story this morning/ didn't derive much pleasure therefrom/ i only seen to enjoy writing my diary/ when i sit down to purposely write something it comes out terribly contrived/

just visited amazon and the lengthy album reviews i painstakingly complied have disappeared/ b's'ds/ i hate loosing work/ i do so little that what i do produce is extremely valuable (to me)/ i also regard my work as a marker, a memento/ whilst i struggle greatly with life i do find pleasure in reminiscing, and some tangible marker makes memories more vivid and the process more enjoyable/

0950

on station platform on route to doctors/ feel like shit/ fucking sluggish and knackered/ i'm buried 'neath a perpetual fug/ had a drink last night though within reason (i btl 14 percent vino) so it ain't a h'over/ p'haps its this d'tox shit i'm imbibing/ it affects the gut and that seems to be the primary site of discontent/i've not been following the instructions on the packaging but i can't imagine a homeopathic remedy can have such a profound and negative effect/ however some herbal highs are very powerful, so.../ i'm not sure if i deserve to feel like this (id est shit, in various manifestations and degrees) but i do/ maybe i'll feel worse before i feel better/

1005

just imbibed the most abysmal latte/ how, with such excellent equipment which requires a minimum of input from semi-sentient meat mannequins (were they puppets one might hope they were guided by a sensible hand), they fuck it up i do not know/ when paying somewhere in the region of a 2000 percent mark up one expects at least some degree of quality/ shit.../ anyway will soon have a one month meth. script, the thought of which pleases me exceedingly/ then to doc's to sort out ag'inst-deppers/ my black dog is persistent enough to require muzzling (at least - bring on the extraneous measures)/

1032

i think cbt (cognitive behavioral therapy) is what i need/ i'm trapped in repetitive thought patterns/ luckily i'm a fairly resourceful guy/ i've interests, which help divert my mind/ this marginally improves my lot/ but i still find large portion of my time is spent unwillingly obsessing over the many and various ways in which the albatross had wounded my fragile self/ whilst a lot of my anger is justified, i think i'm unfair in that i use her as a focus for all my rage/ im rarely express this/ i have the occasional vocal outburst but i'm usually a caring, attentive 'life partner'/ admittedly i'm not as tactile as before and am prone to freeze up when she embraces me/ but in the main i'm supportive and loving and confine this vast fury to the inside of my skull/ not a good idea, i hear you say/ and you're right/ it is a terrible idea/ as a consequence, i die everyday/ not a little/ not incrementally/ i die (i.e. cease to live) everyday/ my myriads dysfunctions conspire to form a prison from which i cannot escape/ and in this prison i cannot live/ it is a prison rooted in the past and i cannot reach out of it an make an imprint on the present, nor look to the future/ it is a horrible way to live/ mercifully there are some avenues of release/ literature, writing, heroin, alcohol/ i've always been like this, to an extent, functioning painfully below my potential/ but over the years the monster within, the prison without, whatever, has become stronger...

have been writing long hand today/ should transcribe that material here/ will, later/

weak am i/ glass of fine wine in hand i sit, vaguely self-chastising/ i was doing so well but started to feel so shit/ thus i procured one bottle and this for the eve shall be my limit/ i just cannot do cold turkey anymore/ not with so many other chemical disturbances troubling my body/

feeling good/ intake yesterday: same as day before though including 3 b/ went nth around 1900 and, having waited no small amount of time, secure three excellent size b, 2 of some new stuff and one enormous bag of that excellent quality shit i spoke of before/ i think they (the dealers) get bags mixed up because sometimes you get a bag whose size and content is identical to one two weeks ago in a current batch/ well it got me nicely mashed but i have to say without the alcohol it wasn't as good/ however i slept well and woke at 1100 (having recently risen around 0800) feeling much better than if i'd been pissing it up twain/ so a middle ground/ i think maybe a couple of glasses of good wine plus three b followed by flagons of iced mineral water and i should wake feeling fine/ but what am i saying!/ i must be strict with myself and continue with this detox (well, period of abstinence from alcohol)/ it has now been four days since i've had a drink and i'm feeling much better/ anyway must eat some breakfast and then i shall continue to bored you and myself with my self-indulgent ramblings...

well it seems no one reads this blog, bar the occasional random visitor, an instance or two of whom have left concerned comments/ well, thanks for your concern/ it's appreciated/ however nothing but chemical purging and replacing or perhaps restructuring can help me (my poor tortured self/ my horrible monstrous self (the monster inside))/ i've always had it, but it's become a lot stronger as i've got older/ it's reassuring to try and explain this monster, to break it down and explain it as a name for a composite of various different chemical imbalances/ but that cannot be the whole story/ the gut the gut if man were nothing but the gut/ heroin is the only thing which helps and so soon i'm going to get lots/ i was going to join the gym again and become an even greater slave to my vanity, tickled by the empty flirting and flashing eyes of passing women, but no/ i'd rather soothe out and sleep/

so anyway, in the round i do feel a lot better/ i find it far easier to resist wandering down destructive thought routes/ i find i have a lot more energy, which is a high in itself/ i'm also sleeping fucking well/ i thought i'd suffer insomnia but no/ i go to bed at a reasonable hour and rise around eight, having slept pretty much the whole night through/ it's magical/ i just refuse to waste any more of my life engaged in petty self-destruction/ i'm going to get fit and start enjoying life/ and i'm going to stop being such a fucking hypocrite and being mad at jo for sleeping with other people when we were apart/ not only did i do the same, i did it when we were together/ countless prostitutes, several guys, several girls, i kissed about 10 people atop including my best mates girl friend/ but when one is a cheater one measures others by one's own standards and thus thinks e.g. one's woman is at it when she's not/ and the times she has been she's been perfectly justified in doing so/ i just feel so hurt by it because we had been in a relationship for eight years (my first long term) and it didn't feel like we'd properly broken up (we saw each other every week and slept together not a few times)/ i just wish i had her capacity to get over things/ when her first relationship ended she found out her man of 6 years had gone off with her best friend (if you knew her you'd realise, he's not a bad guy)/ now under these circumstances i'd have killed myself/ no question/ but what does she do?/ gets a job, goes about her life and in a few months is going out with me/ then a few weeks into our relationship she invite ex and friend out with us to a club night i was putting on/ now are we fucking extreme opposites or what?/ i think she's just so used to massive emotional blows and then having to get on like nothings happened that she can seem like she doesn't care/ but i'm sure she does/ i've just become so disenchanted with her/ when i first met her she had no friends (literally)/ we slept together having known each other four days (if i sleep with someone i usually like things to move a little faster, but hey) and she moved in with me a week after meeting me/ i was a little surprised that apart from a girl she knew at work (cathrine) she had no friends/ it didn't take long before she was waking up in the middle of the night screaming and crying and soon ensued a five year barrage of vitriol directed at everyone who'd ever wronged her i.e. pretty much everyone she'd ever met/ a year into our relationship i hated everyone she'd ever told me about/ she was so monumentally screwed up and this she (and i) believed was in no way her fault but the fault of everyone who'd ever mistreated, misunderstood or indeed wronged her in anyway/ but after a while small inconsistencies in her stories started to show up/ the most glaring of these being the fact that apparently her ex, who owed her money and had broken every fibre of her heart and soul had been 'such a sweet boy'/ what?/ indeed/ she had this way of making me feel so sorry for her and i would buy into everything she told me whole heartedly/ and the more i listened and supported, the more she wailed and complained and cried/ now i'm sure if you've been in this situation you'll understand that no matter what has happened to someone, no matter how sorry you feel for them, the more they go on and on about it, and everything else that is wrong, you begin, after a while, to not give a shit/ at first i felt bad/ i thought /my, this girl's had such a terrible time, how can i be annoyed at her for being upset/ but the fact is after a while they do it not because they need the sympathy but because they become addicted to the sympathy, and particularly when this person has had no real love in their life they have to find something/ and because she's attractive and small and has a well practiced manner she can elicit sympathy from no end of gullible, lonely people/ recently she told me she was surprised that early on on our relationship i didn't run a mile/ why didn't i?/ i was depressed, very lonely and i did feel sorry for her/ why am i still here?/ because i'm still depressed, still lonely and i still feel sorry for her/ plus jealousy if she ends up with someone else/ you expect when you've put a lot in to get a lot out/ i'm still waiting/ so am i with her for purely negative reasons?/ i do enjoy relaxing with her/ we've always been very natural in one another's company and seem, i think, to have some sort of weird bond/ she also shows a lot of interest in the things i do/ and she's got better with emotional matters/ in the past she was just like her mum/ she'd elicit sympathy and support till the point of my being exhausted and the minute i needed her support she'd shut off/ i'd never seen anything like it and was shocked but having witnessed her mother's behavior realise that it's not so remarkable (what is remarkable is her infinite capacity for denial and the belief that she is always doing good for others (but only again come to think of it remarkable in itself - this again is a charming trait she has inherited from her mother))/burroughs once said he wrote because if he did not he'd would die ('writing for my life' i believe the phrase was)/ well whilst i was saying how much easier it is to resist ruinous thought paths in my current instantiation, i am still assailed/ thus rather than sit there and stew i'll write/ what was angering me as i sat there?/ how easily impressionable she is/ when she was working with pretty awful people she was horrible, self-indulgent, spoilt and prone to massive mood swings/ god i hated her, how i despised her/ but i couldn't leave/ as aforementioned this apparent obsession is predicated on my needing so desperately to resolve things with my father and thus finding someone with similar imperfections to work out my differences with/it also has alot to do with becoming accustomed to someone and the reality then of being alone: what do you do with your time?/ it also has alot to with my dependency issues/ so there are three very powerful emotions keeping me glued to something that is tearing me to pieces inside/ finally jealousy and my own insecurities: jealousy and pain like nothing i've experienced thinking of her with something else and my own insecurities making me think i couldn't do any better/ oh and super-finally the fact i still feel i'm owed/ i dont' want to talke the risk, because the sex is so good, that she 'finds herself' at a later stage in her life whilst with someone else/ that would be supremely unfair/ so these are my many and dysfunctional reasons for staying with her, and the reasons i've stuck around even when it causes me immense pain/ oh and another thing: when, e.g. i've had a serious panic attack and she's just st there impassive (or worse told me i'm faking it because only she experiences real panic attacks (i kid you not)), i want her to look after me and soothe me the way i did her (countless times and in times of far greater emotional distress than a panic attack)/the irony is, for all this vitriol when she returns i'll be attentive and loving (see Lady Jane in LJ and John Thomas)/ so human beings are naturally self-protective and fly from anything which causes them pain/ i also used to do this with my father, but then there were not all these 'things' at work/ it is a veritable cauldron of emotions/jesus what the fuck does this achieve?/ of course it's cathartic, but i really need to move forward/ one can't change the past/ one can't expect more than apology form those who've wronged you/ i wish to fuck with every fibre of my being i'd had the strength to have a month or so of great sex and then leave/ i've never had more awful and horrible experience than when i'm with her/ before i met her i was depressed but i'd never been suicidal (never attempted it)/ and before i met her i didn't know it was possible for anyone to be so cruel and heartless/ i've seen her be heartless and cold in a way that would shock anyone/ and no one but me has had these experiences or knows because when she gets to know people its only on a very superficial level/ she's moved from job to job all her life, getting to know people there and just showing the good qualities of herself/ so no one who knows her would believe me if i told them/ the only person who kind of gets it is my brother but he cannot grasp the full horror of the situation, the cavernous agony and pain i feel/ of course this is not all her fault and were i not a depressive and had i good self-esteem etc etc i would not be in this position/ but i am a depressive and i have appalling self-esteem and this is the position i'm in/ and i don't know what to do/ i've never known what to do/ my emotions are so utterly extreme that i couldn't keep my distance when we broke up and so fucked everything up there/ i just feel so trapped/ and if i go where do i go?/ what do i do?/ i'm not like her/ i haven't had the same training in heartlessness (a benefit in life, believe me - i don't see how having a heart, a precondition of being so horribly hurt, is a benefit - well, of course, for all the wonderful experiences, but i'm not sure if its worth it)/ i shall certainly not attempt suicide again/ no way/ but something must be done/ first and foremost i must get back on antidepressants/ the counseling/