So, yeah. “A few bevs”, when you’ve not been drinking for 250 days, can very quickly become “probably too many bevs”. I mean, I don’t feel horrendous today, just incredibly tired and run down, and like I need to remove my brain and bathe it in cold water while humming lullabies to it soothingly.
But it was lovely to be out with people, to remember the energy of that world of “out” that I haven’t been inhabiting for eight months now. The bodies pressed together, the shadows, the softly flowing spirits (both kinds).
It was good to do for a special occasion, and it was good to realise I don’t want to do it again for a very long time. It’s a mode of being, going out, going to late bars, boozing, that has its upsides, for sure, but it is for people younger than myself, with still the feel of their lives stretching infinitely in front of them. It’s not what you want to be doing at my age, when you start to be happier getting an early night and being productive tomorrow than rushing headlong into action and excitement wanting to catch the stars in your coruscating tumbler but only eventually finding bleary morning, sickness, an empty bank account.
Anyway, I’ve brewed coffee today, made leek and potato soup, had it with a brown roll and two satsumas, drunk tea with lemon and honey. I’m treading gently, carefully, healthily.
Last night was the end of 2018, and a last spritz of silliness. Today is the beginning of the new year.
......
Music: Fan the Flames, by Sheer Mag. Holy shit. I love this. Grungy, lo-fi garage punk, with a bluesy 70s dad rock lead guitar vibe under the vocals. Chunky, melodic, sexy, stupendous. Holy shit. I can't. It's great.
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