Put down that bloody shovel, will you?

It can be done. I know this because I’ve done it before. I can stop digging this bloody hole whenever I choose to. I can put down my shovel.

This knowledge is comforting and infuriating in equal parts.

Why am I reluctant to say that last goodbye to alcohol? There’s an annoying self-helpy-type phrase that pops into my head now and again: let go of that which no longer serves you. Perhaps I should analyse my resistance to self-helpy-type stuff in general. I suspect that its source is something to do with the clichés and shitty writing so commonly found in that genre. Cliches exist for a reason and it’s not as if there’s anything original about my behaviour anyway. There are so many commonalities in the experiences of drunks.

Embrace that which works, Geri. How does that grab you?

My cat died, so I told myself I wanted to get smashed–a wake for Suzy. I went through the motions of getting smashed three nights running. Suzy’s death coincided with my days off which facilitated this 3-day binge.

The awfulness of this binge was extra distressing because (again) I only experienced the shitty side of drinking. I couldn’t achieve the pleasant fuzziness I was chasing. In truth, I can’t remember the last time I could.

I recently heard Steve Kilbey say something similar of heroin during an interview on Radio National. He said something along the lines of, “I didn’t finish with heroin, heroin finished with me.” He said his addiction just kind of petered out because he wasn’t experiencing the enjoyable effects of heroin anymore–just the shitty ones. I get a kick out of those moments when I turn the radio on at just the right time–like the big whatever’s communicating with me via the AM waves.

So, here we are again. Clambering back onto the bloody wagon. Sick of myself.

That’s it isn’t it? The self-centredness of the whole bloody business? Introspection might be constructive to a point—until you discover that you’re disappearing up your own arse.

Time to at least redistribute my focus, concentrate on my loved ones and stuff that deserves my attention.

Whip crack away whip crack away whip crack away.

From Gustave Dore's Divine Comedy illustrations--the  Empyrean one.

From Gustave Dore’s Divine Comedy illustrations–the Empyrean one.

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