August is for drinking
Nothing heavy off course. Just lots of beer. Think we have remembered what it was we sang once everyone had been scared and forced off and we woke up deranged, little and alone after Mason was shot in the head outside the flat in Torry. Bits of the chorus from 'I've got a dream' from Tangled. Bit like the short alky ruffian cherub does when he staggers out the bar. In Tuscany 2017 we heard a Hamilton song. Lin Manual a slaver? Nah. Surely. Nothing has ever been that fucking simple though and is they can't keep us dissociated and split with no fucking recall I doubt the paid talents are going to fair much better.
It's never just a case of fucking mourning people. We have to accept the easing of amnesia regarding some vast institution or wealthy nation state and slavery. It's been asked, what we believe stands in the way between ourself and a life where are friends arn't slaughter in front of us, Murdoch or Disney. Disney. No doubt but no details either beyond phone calls, knowing the songs and plots to films that haven't been released yet and an equally certain sense that they used up previous generations of blood relatives to.
BBC or Disney? Disney. Royal instutions or Disney? Disney. NHS or Disney? Hmm.
Was generously allowed diapezipam last week. It helped a lot. Took most of it in one day though of course because then we don't even need or want any the next day and we get a real break from the tears, the hate and the disgust that the prescribed 2-4mg a day is not going to give us. Getting a new antidepressant that is supposed to have a sedative effect. We got more and more sensitive to the sertraline and was cutting the dose because of it, just drifting off comfortably then we get that horrid plummiting feeling enough to make us sit up gasping and it would happen over and over, once even when we were already sitting up and reading. It has served us reasonably well though. Got the new meds anxiety now though. What's this going to do us?
Watched the netflix doc on shrooms. Fungi rules. would not turn down a psychlocibin dose. Wouldn't want it in Fife but it would be different here and now. Wouldn't change or material, social and political position though and that is what stops the healing.
Beyond the usual being lost dreams there has been some good stuff to. Heading to an airport, not alone, took a crystal glass of wine from a sending off party with us and when we got to the airport we handed the empty glass to airport worker who smashed it on the ground and then swept up the shards. Then there was more people hugging, kissing, crying before we left. An old shrink would of asked us who those people are but we don't know, but there's a cynical but often correct voice saying 'probably the dead.'
Smoking fags like a person who recently stopped. Hands so fucking sore so no housework, gardening, weights or gaming. Midnight libary came today, mistake so far the girl can play the guitar and buy raving reviews from utter twats on the cover is all going to work out lovely for her. Walking sometimes though, calmed by the waters and the ruins, desperate for attention from other people's pets, staring at the hills and skylines wishing it didn't just remind us of the Angus, Aberdeenshire, Fife. Thinking it didn't look like this, whatever came before, if there was a before. It looked totally different.
Love you bro. Thank you.
