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.