Sexy Bloke From The Village is definitely some kind of alkie. Not half as far on as nature and nurture have contrived (through sheer effort of will which I do admire), but getting there nevertheless. He has scary fucked-up dreams after a few days "on the shot", he tells me... the stuff of cold sweats and terrified awakenings, he tells me.
Got a bit silly myself at the weekend. Cider and whisky and cider and Lambert'n'Butler and more cider... inevitably arrived home Sunday night in a taxi in floods of angry drunken tears, swigging from a half-bottle of brandy and cursing snottly. Passed out on my bed and dreamed...
...dreamed that I went to the garage to find that my clothes-airer was missing. Mildly anoying...
...dreamed that a new Damien Rice song was played on the radio and I didn't like it. Slightly disappointing...
...dreamed that my bra had left a few red marks on my chest. A wee tad irritating...
...but NOT disturbing, not in the slightest. Which is good, cos it means that I'm so stable that even at my drunkest and upset-est my dreams are mundane? Or which is bad, because it means that I'm turning into one of Billy Connolly's hated "beige people"?.. can ya not be content without being boring??? Why do fucked-up, irresponsible and possibly dangerous people have that "spark" about them?
Buggered if I know. Off for a fag.
