Well, I’ve calmed down a bit since yesterday. I was still suffering from the DTs, which obviously take a few days to shake off completely. I’m still plagued by anxious, hopeless thoughts and feelings, but bursts of positivity are beginning to break through.
It’s been a while.
“Awhile”? I’ve looked up the difference, but it doesn’t make much sense to me. If you’re a grammar fan, please help me!
I finally called the local blind society for help with my deteriorating confidence. I’ve got an appointment on Monday to talk to one of their staff. I’m sure we’ll figure out where to go from there. I just need to collect my thoughts and work out a concise way of describing what’s wrong. Which won’t be easy. But, as always in this day an age, I’ll need to pitch my problems as though I were applying for a bank loan.
Sigh.
Put money into healthcare and education, people, not miserable religious wars in far-off lands.
So, yes, at least that appointment will get me out of the flat for an afternoon. I’m not sure if I’ll venture into town afterward, as my confidence is now that low. I used to be fine with wandering around aimlessly. It was a hobby, in fact. Now everything is so hard.
The sunshine came back for revenge this afternoon, but luckily my upturned sleep pattern meant I was trying to sleep at the time. Including an hour-long gap in the middle, I pretty much slept from about midday to 9 pm. Not bad, at least not for an insomniac. I guess I’ve started finding a reason to just stay in bed and ride it out. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, what on Earth will I achieve by giving up on sleep and getting out of bed early?!
I managed a wank during the 1-hour intermission, for which I developed a few new fantasies. It’s a shame I can’t turn them into art and post them on my blog anymore, but life is what it is.
Nice defeatist attitude, huh?
I’ve got a shopping order coming later, which has no booze on it. I thought it best to stay sober until after I’ve been for that appointment. I’m not sure how I’ll feel after the meeting, so I’ll not get any beers in to celebrate my efforts. With any luck, I’ll walk away with a reason not to drink so much anymore. We shall see…
I’ve been watching a very haunting Russian coming-of-age film from around the 1960s. It’s not translated, but it appears to tell the story of two young boys falling in love. Quite groundbreaking for a country that is meant to have an oppressive censorship regime! Hmm. Anyway, one of the boys is quite androgynous, with me originally thinking it was a girl. I just think he’s “artistic” and prefers wearing feminine clothing. Cough. There’s just been a tender shirtless scene, which I assume was meant to signify an increase in their affection for one another.
It certainly did come out of the blue.
Anyway, the film is shot like a Sergio Leone movie, with even the musical score sounding like the work of Ennio Morricone. I won’t bother writing about it for The Whittling Post, as I’ve been doing so about similar movies a lot recently. I like to mix things up a bit and stay somewhat fresh. Blog views have been bobbing up and down all week, but still nobody is reaching out to me. I’ve come to accept they’re just AI training bots stealing my hard work, but you never know. Someone may actually be going through my serialised stories chapter-by-chapter, but that may just be a coincidence.
I was about to crack open the window in here for some fresh air, but there are some gobby dickheads congregating outside. If you can think of the rowdiest set of university halls of residence/dormitories in the world, then that’s the street I live on. One of the noisy people sounds like they’re reverting to animal form, so I’m guessing they’re on something.
The mysterious pains on my chest and back persist, but at least I’ve got that appointment with the nurse coming up in a, erm, month’s time.
Anyway, I best go do… not much.
Do stay in touch, comrades.
Poka!
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