Alcohol is only my third favourite drug, but it just keeps turning up like an old ex.
You know you’re not good for each other, and it’s not even like you have that much fun when you’re together, but for some reason, you keep waking up the morning after a party wondering why the hell you did that again.
These days, even a mild session saps the life out of me.
They say write drunk but they don’t say edit with a hangover and a blinding headache.
The ol’ engine takes a couple more kicks to build up a head of steam the next morning. The day trickles away, spent tinkering with nothing much in particular.
Everything seems a bit shit.
And I think, “Next time, just have a tipple,” knowing even that will likely be too much.
Christ, I’m getting boring fast.
It’s not like we can lie around doing nothing and enjoy it forever.
At least not without spending a lot of money on drugs.
Sure, it’s nice to hit the beach or the lakes and do nothing for a bit. But after a few weeks, a tight emptiness forms in the guts, followed by a dull nagging in the back of the skull: shouldn’t you be doing something with your time?
Maybe some people are lucky enough to be born truly carefree, with no fear of the rapidly approaching Big Nothing. The rest of us have to distract ourselves by doing stuff.
It seems that we work to death one way or another.
May as well do something you enjoy. May as well get really fucking good at it, too.
Maybe then, it will barely be work at all.
The ‘Golden Age of Media’ is gone for good.
TV isn’t more boring than it used to be. The stories and production are probably better.
But when was the last time you watched TV without getting distracted by your phone?
Is that because TV now is crap? Or because our phones have us better trained than the gogglebox could ever manage?
Recently I was scrolling Instagram for memes and an argument while watching a violent TV show, and I caught myself: spread across the sofa, devouring media with both hands like a fat kid up to his elbows in a pot of peanut butter.
Shovelling those images and sounds into my brain as fast as my weak human senses would allow, wallowing in the hormones milked from my tired little brain.
And I thought, “Fuck this.”
So I went and found a book to read.
But that didn’t last very long before I fell asleep.