The devil makes work..
Arrived in Falmouth this afternoon. Checked into Falmouth Backpackers, the same place I ended up last year after going on Pilgrim from Falmouth to Brixham and met an Irish girl – what was she called? – I can recall her Dublin voice and here I am at 21.28 on Gyllenvase beach half moon covered by cloud drinking fast fast, a pint in less than 2 mins and now fireworks fizzing over Pendennis Point (not as good as in Beer 2 nights ago). I had dinner here. 1 and a half pints hit me – boom – on top of Xanax last night. It’s like the alcohol is double strength. Then put it off. No no no. No more. Walked to the harbour. One more and that was enough and then the thought of going back. What does a non sleeper do? I can’t sleep. Where’s everybody else? Can I meet someone? No. What? You know what. Go against everything your sensible mind is telling you to do. Roll a joint. At least I’m not tubing it. Like last time.
21.41. Another Tribute. Ha! To what? To never being disciplined. Chin chin. I’m smoking too. And not enjoying it. I was jangling like a wrong un last night at Waye Farm in a Swiss style chalet with rodents running around all the way round from 11 o’clock all the way round to 3 0 clock all the way behind me getting closer to me while in my mind a flickering spool of pornographic images click over and over. I’m telling myself it’s gotta stop. Smoking = fizzing under the skin. In the heart and the wrists. And it’s not what you think. It’s nothing hard. It’s just my own little world of adrenal madness.
The only reminders I get on my phone are ‘notifications’. Thanks, whoever you are, oh it’s my pocket handset telling me I have portraits of myself ready to view! Hey, I’m not wallowing in self pity here. Does it sound like it?? No no.
22.12. In the words of c3po ‘here we go again’. At least I’ll sleep tonight. Cha cha…