Take This Oblivion

Summer’s hit Battersea Park. I’m beside the boating lake, drinking massively overpriced Red Bull, and contemplating a vareity of solutions to my current writers block.

Option 1: Drown myself. It’d be easy, and convenient, and with any luck it’d leave a few of these bastard children that are all over the damn damn park with something collosally traumatic to remember.

But on the downside, I’d be dead. And I don’t really want to be, so I think I can rule that one out.

Option 2) Just keep hammering my head off a wall. Well, I’m getting kind of tired of that, to be honest. I’m sick of dealing in substandard fragments of thought, and half-formed ideas. I need somethingto give soon, and let me actually write, rather than makes notes.

Option 3) Medication. Devolve back into my bad habits, and abuse my body with whiskey and coffee. This is my favourite option – I know that belting my brain sideways with those two will nearly always shake something loose. I’m not the only person I know that works like this, and I’m certainly willing to give it another go at this point.

The problem with this is manifold, though. Top of the list: it’s bad for me. My diet is still residing in the “fucked, but improving slowly” zone that it slipped to late last year, but my other habits are actually quite reasonable – my caffiene intake is minimal, these days, and I don’t drink more than a few measures in an average week. This is not the sort of level I can use to punch myself in the frontal lobes with – I need half a pot of coffee and a good double in me to get started, and I need to hold that level of wired over time. Additionally, coffee makes me want to smoke, and I’ve been having a hard enough time staying away from the fags for a while now.

Also: I’m not much fun to be around when I’ve medicined myself. I shut myself in my room, and fight with language, emerging only to refresh my drinks. This is not the sort of behaviour one can indulge in when one has a girlfriend one would like to keep seeing. It’s profoundly anti-social.

Still, I think it’s my best bet. And y’know, Fin gave me an espresso machine last night, which is practically an inivitation to anti-social behaviour.

So it’s out to buy a burr grinder with me tomorrow, and fresh coffee beans on Sunday.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the last of this Red Bull, and put some more notes together, in the summertime.

6 Comments

  1. I think the people who are really good for us aren’t afraid to see us at our worst. The trick, I think, is making sure the bad habits you accumulate don’t stay on indefinitely or 100% of the time for *too* long.

  2. You’re always welcome to bounce ideas off me. I’m an excellent sounding board, and I have enough brilliance that I don’t need to steal other people’s. :)

  3. Yeah but the bad habit in question is pretty much refusing all communication from the outside world. I can’t really tell Fin to “fuck off now, I want to write” after she’s gotten the bus over. :)

    It’s hardly me at my worst, anyway, just rather rude.

  4. Cheers for the offer, but like I was saying to Antony the other night, unless I’ve got something at the 99.9% formed stage, I can’t talk to other people about it in anything other than the vaguest terms – and to be honest, I’m either stalling out so early in the process that there’s nothing to talk about, or I’m working on stuff I have 99% formed, and just don’t feel I’m doing it justice, rather than having a problem with the ideas, if you see what I mean.

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