It’s time to calm down before I kill myself. The last few days have seen me doing some stupid things. On Friday night I was at a house party; I was pretty cut up about Rich and just let rip, downing half a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was at a low ebb that night and frankly didn’t give a rats ass about even getting home, nor perhaps waking up.
But wake I did. God did I have a hangover. The worse ever. Nevertheless, it was necessary – I needed a peak, a focal point for grief. Something to look back upon and think now I have done that I can let go. What happened to Rich was fucked up, but I need now to get on with my degree.
Taking that road trip Saturday was also very stupid. When they heard about it my friends told me off. Literally told me off, like an errant child. ”What if you had been run over? What if the battery had run out?” They’re right, of course, but on Saturday I was so full of hatred with the world I didn’t care.
It was on Sunday morning that I smiled for the first time in a week. For one, my hangover had gone. For another, after lunch, Charlie asked if she could try on my zentai suit. She’s going to a party on Saturday and wants to go as some kind of lizard. She seems to like it, for she put it on in my flat and walked across campus in it. Best thing I ever saw – a very pretty lady in a skin tight lycra catsuit, complete with feet, hood, and gloves, walking across campus merrily waving to people. The football team walked past and were highly amused. I knew that thing was a good investment.
It’s time not to get on with the business of doing a degree. This morning’s seminar gave me more impetus for my work on post-structuralism. Yesterday I was able to write for the first time in a week. In all my weekend of stupidity has done me lots of good, I reckon.
Or it might just be the sight of C in that catsuit…