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.