Interlude v

I am delightfully woozied again. That's what you do when you have a bottle of Bailey's next to you. I drink because it lifts away my worries and cares and leaves behind the best part: inspiration. I hope I don't turn into an alcoholic. Being tipsy makes me type slower. I keep typoing. Sunday night and Bailey's. I hope I can get up in time for work on Monday morrnnnnnning. If I don't finish this bottle tonight, I'll put some of it into my coffee tomorrow morning. Mmm whiskey cappuccino!

What do I do when I'm tipsy? All my other friends are asleep. I'm digitally detoxing so no Jake or Alin or Anamrija or Van. I write, slogging through the delightfully cloudy mires of my mind, as I pour more and more searing whiskey down my throat. No statements now either, no more declarations on how literature is going to save the souls of mankind from the deep abysses of despair. Writing my own stuff.. how C and E found each other again, the role of the history, how the past always comes back to haunt us. You saw me and loved me in a past life and I have come back to you now, only everything is different and nothing can ever be the same again, because of the curse and blessing of time.

What else? I've begun rereading The Winter King. Mordred, though ostensibly Arthur. I love that book/trilogy, it set the bar for all other Arthurian legends I've read and I've read a lot. When I was doing my course selection last year, I wanted to choose Arthurian legends. Maybe it would have affected my outcome if I had. In any case, my favourite character was always Merlin of Avalon. Arthur of course was human and ostensibly likeable, as was Derfel the narrator - one of those rare cases where you actually like the main characters. Lancelot was reprehensible and funnily enough I always preferred this version of Lancelot in comparison to all the other knight in shining armour versions. Guinevere was splendid and red-haired and proud and defiant, and not really likeable till Excalibur.  Ceinwyn was sweet but a little bland, and this Bailey's is really heating me up. Tomorrow is a new morn and I'm looking forward to that whiskey cappuccino. Just poured myself another cup though and I'm nearly at the bottom of the bottle. Urgh, I'm being boring. I've never been stark and roaring drunk in my life ever. I got my bedsheets again. If you take away our social networks, our instagrams and facebooks and twitters and all that bass, what do you have left? If you peel away all those qualifications, what more do you have left?

I think I'm hitting that last straw but let's push it a little further. You, sir, are a bastard and what goes around comes around. What an arrogant jerk I was, I thought I had it all. You wildly adored me and so did the rest of the world. I had it all, but then I grew up. I couldn't be Peter Pan forever. And now baby here we are. My head's spinning and I'm incoherent. I have a master's and I was in Prague, in Barcelona, in Budapest, in London. They were all as hot as hell and I met Alin in Barcelona, Klaus in Prague and Hunor in Budapest. Oh, where are you? My tongue's numb. I may go to LSE. I have faith in myself...and I probably need to go read some bad fiction. Maybe I should've been a medievalist. When will I start regretting my choices? This Bailey's tastes worse the more you've had, that cloying buttery taste...I imagine Butterbeer tastes like this. Maybe Bailey's was what Rowling had in mind when she wrote about it. I just googled the words Butterbeer Bailey's and it came up with lots of stuff; good, I'm not the only one who thinks this way. Urgh, more incoherence, off to WRITE.

Interlude iv

Facebook really has a lot to answer for. Last November, when I met that cute German skateboarder kid, I thought he was a potential murderer, so after that beer at the Anchor, I didn't give him my facebook when he asked me for it. His name was Ralf and that was all I had to go with. That and the fact that he was from Hamburg. Then I went back home, curiosity overcame me, and I looked him up on facebook. And I actually found him, with only three clues: his first name, his hometown, and "current town." Same thing just happened - I somehow thought it would be a good idea to look up Klaus from Prague, my only clue being that he was from Hanover. Hey, another good looking German... And I found him too, WHEW. I really dunno whether this is good or bad. So much for your serendipitous encounters.

It's 2;46 am and apparently I have nothing better to do than to mosey about on the internet looking up people I met for like a few hours. I feel sick, like I want to throw up, and my leg isn't feeling so good. It's freezing and that's making me insomniatic. My leg REALLY hurts. Maybe it's gotten infected and that's why I'm feeling so ill. I wish I'd gotten it aspirated when I had the chance, but of course if wishes were horses. I still want to drink. I wish it weren't the middle of the night. I wish it were morning already. I want to go out and get some chocolate. I want food. I really need to finish my Euro travel blog but I'm just too darn lazy and there is such a thing as leaving it for too long. I am being truthful and provocative since I don't think anyone reads this anymore, therefore I'm allowed to shoot my mouth off. Urgh, my LEG! Maybe it's all in my head..

I watched Volcano tonight and it was all right, it reminded me a lot of Dante's Peak which was funny because when I looked it up, I found out that they were both actually released within two months of each other. For me, the most powerful scene was when Stan saved that train conductor and walked through the carriage praying, the plastic melting off his shoes as he went. And when he jumped into the lava and didn't die immediately, and threw the conductor to safety. It made for very uncomfortable viewing indeed, even though I knew it wasn't real. My least favourite characters were Tommy Lee Jones' daughter and that bratty kid she tried to "save" - why do all these disaster films have at least one annoying gormless kid who wanders off so that the main character(s) have to risk their necks saving them? Anyway, I really like Tommy Lee Jones; him, Sean Connery, Piers Brosnan and Harrison Ford have these really interesting faces that look better as they age, and they always play these serious but somehow goofy characters. It's like they could be very good comedic actors if they wanted to, Harrison Ford and TLJ especially. Harrison Ford is wonderful, I loved him as Han Solo and Indiana Jones. Indy especially. Is Indiana even a real men's name? In any case, I really like the concept of the swashbuckling professor with his encyclopediac knowledge of ancient and lost civilisations. That was the sort of person I yearned to be, but it's probably a role that would be better played by a man. Then again maybe not - you have Lara Croft. But then of course Lara is a sex symbol, you don't focus on her knowledge of Angkor Watt or her fighting skills, her bust is what sells. Urgh, world.

Done typing, am a bit woozy, off to bed or more Wikipedia.

Interlude III

So I had a huge scare when I logged in earlier, or attempted to login. I'm sure it had something to do with that mess with LINE a few days ago, since I was trying to access google play, and I tried signing in with this account, and it reset everything, and I didn't realise till about 10 minutes ago, when I tried to log in, and somehow ended up creating a new account....urgh, anyway. The main thing is I'm back, although I had to reset my account stuff and it was a huge pain in the neck. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I do not care, DO NOT CARE, for social apps/all this technology/plugging into the Matrix/making us tie up all our accounts together. I don't like putting all my eggs in the same basket, because when one link breaks, the whole bridge collapses. As it did a few days ago.

In other news, I really stressed myself out when I reread one of my statements and felt that I could have improved upon it a LOT more but it's already gone through and the waiting game's already started. I just went back and reread it again - okay, still not as good as the ones I'm doing now, but it wasn't that holistically bad either, so we'll just have to sit and wait and see. I think I'm going to have a heart attack one of these days, I freak out all the time. I've gotten so jumpy lately that I have to muster the courage to open my email, even. Actually, that's something I've always had a problem with. I always think the worst, and when I'm due to get emails from any Big Cheeses, I practically hyperventilate when I open the emails. I hate having to live under such pressure. If I were asthmatic I'd have to carry an inhaler with me at all times. Or do people with asthma problems have to do that anyway? I don't know. It's 4am here and I'm urrghhh and arrghhh and all sorts of stressed. I need to do some more drinking again, expensive as it is. It sucks that that whiskey shop is sooo far away and I don't feel up to going long distances on my motorbike again, not now at any rate. I want Bailey's. I want my Irish cream. I want cider. I want punch and cocktail and strawberry coladas and tequilas and cuba libres. Actually any heavily alcoholic drink would be fine except for beer. Beer tastes frightful.

I am SO glad I didn't lose my blog...I'd die if it were consigned to oblivion. I feel that writing's the only thing that keeps me sane now. Writing my novels and novellas, writing to Nadja, writing to Anamrija and so forth. Even my statements, interestingly enough. I love writing Nadja, it provides me with a sense of closure, and her emails are always so wonderful. I crave closure and neatness, and design..I abhor chaos and non-order. Everything's in my life's just dots waiting to be connected.

What else..? I am in a state of abstinence as of now, detoxing my life, as I used to do in the past, when I decided that I needed a system reboot/spring cleaning. So much garbage in life, and lots of it can't be recycled, unfortunately...or maybe it can be, and the future does lie in sustainability, after all. But no. Some things should be flushed out of the system..."Salt Water Flush," eurgh! Those days seem so far off. Two years. Fair enough I suppose, far enough I suppose. A year ago I was in Iris Brook and the courtyard was killing me. Rene had just moved to Orchard and was hurrying at me to follow suit, and I was being deafened by the construction. Urgh, doesn't bear thinking about, either. What do I miss about those days? I miss how Rene and I would dance in her kitchen to the paedophile's music, and watch TBBT on that LG widescreen, and cook and cook and cook and then cook some more. I don't care for how my childhood idol's been desecrated, by himself none the less. I adored his music, and now I just can't really listen to it with a straight face anymore. It's true that art consumes you. When I completely and utterly fall in love with a book I don't really want to know too much about the author, especially if I don't agree with their life choices. I can't remember which books and which authors, but it's happened before; loved the book, found out the author was a grande willy in real life, which in turn made the book unbearable for me. Oscar Wilde hit the nail on the head when he said that artists should be dull people in life, and that their whole essence should go into their works...if they don't, then their works aren't art. That probably explains why I'm so erudite when I'm in a bad mood. Why the most eloquent of phrases fall out of my fingers when I'm drunk. Oh my queen! You know you've hit rock-bottom when even drag is a drag..

Anyway off to bed. I'm tired. There are still plenty of unsaid sentences in me but my bird and bush have run dry for the time being.