Bristol 6.3.19

The way I see it and maybe I’ve been leading up to this is that I have a small window – maybe 2 or 3 years – to maintain the style of living that I have grown used to. Yes, I see how naive this is. Have I always positioned myself outside the norm? Deliberately.

Wednesdays are the peak: 6 lessons then 2 more private after. Need to record the respect I’ve earned after 2 months. Today as they poured out of the front of school: “Mr R..!” That teacher caution at the forefront of my mind “Don’t react – it’ll be something reactionary, it normally is”. I decide to look in the general direction.

“What you saying, sir?” With forced attitude and a half smile. It’s a big compliment.

Shiny new notes in my hand 3 nights a week from successful builders, office managers, lawyers always pleasant always a good relationship (of course) trusting me to further their child’s educational progress. It’s de rigeur right now. And I do. I think of them later when I roll those slippery notes. Who would know? So lovely, me. Never a doubt.

Going into another of the unhealthy slumps – ‘the arena of the unwell’ – no exercise: athlete’s foot and a fucked shoulder have put tennis / swimming on hold and the evenings alone are filled with taking an obscure mix of pills only available online – hypnotics, muscle relaxants and painkillers: cariprosodol, zopiclone, alprazolam, dihrydrocodeine. Often a cocktail. And very cold IPA and a Jim Beam on ice. The boilermaker to conquer all boilermakers. I unwind. And I dream. And I stay in while the wind buffets the windows and the furnishings and light are soft and so are the promises I make to myself.

It’s Friday and I’m at it again. And I must go out. Otherwise I can’t face the idea of no plans. Nothing. I’ll expire without anything to plan towards. It’s been the way I’ve thought forever. Everyday is an adventure or a lesson. And without that I’m lost.

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