It was a course on therapeutic storytelling that I had asked to go on. I seen a poster for it in the college holidays and had time to vet it all, look it over on the writer’s blog to check for some semblence of sanity. The college had the same day decided to pick up the bill. Perhaps I would have to review my hatred of certain key people in the organisation who judge people by their spiritual credentials, ensuring that they fulfil certain criteria before extending to them some kind of empathy, or indeed, even greeting them.
I stood around once I had signed in, drinking my green tea and looking out of the open window as others formed into chatting couples and groups around me. I was determined to be standoffish, a writer, as much out of defensiveness, anticipating the social mess I can make out of talking to strangers, something that doesn’t come easily to me, as anything else. Read the rest of this entry »
…Ema and ondrej came soon after, and as is usually the case with me I made a great effort at first, going out and taking them to the local, coming back fairly drunk on the few I had already had before decampling with them to the summer house at the top of my parents’ garden with a couple of snails we raced on the glass table, drinking Becherovka, a Czech spirit.
Soon though I tired of it all. I couldn’t take Ondrej and his constant chat, his incessent questions about English pronunciation, and, just being around people. Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve just gone down for a smoke, rolled it while listening to an all-too familiar uninspiring rock song, the kind I flick away from while driving in to work or to go for M, usually flicking through several such desperate to get something out of the moment. I was feeling like I needed one. Needed a break from the computer at any rate having just finished the last post on The Crop. I had two breaths this time before recalling a brief thought this morning, an idea about structuring and organising my life that I have had numerous times before, that I would write down every day the number of days I have been without gluten, without dairy, without alcohol, smoking etc, a simple string of numbers that would not then allow for lapses and those little exceptions and get-outs I give myself, that avoiding wheat, for example, is not unanimously considered a part of an anti-Candida diet, or that green tea wouldn’t count for one day, or that smoking will help me see it through. I stubbed it out and came back up. I remembered too the thought that came to me on driving back from the airport where I dropped off M yesterday for the expensive few days back home she has opted for to get away from things here when I was going for my second fag that evening, tired as I was, that the highs that come from smoking drop down to lows and precipitate them, soemthing I have always known, but rarely acted on. Read the rest of this entry »
I do these quizzes now and again and usually find that they would once have applied to me but that my behaviour has changed due to my self-awareness to the degree that I could no longer endorse most of the statements. Read the rest of this entry »
