Bad Idea

Greetings again man. All is well in the Land Of Donegan. I’m still clean, I’m still fighting fit, I’m still all well. One or two temptations creeping in, but nothing unmanageable. I thought to myself this morning: Just a nice little big fat stripe of a line, and a bonk-busting scene by Tommy Thrillbigger; but, alas, the temptation faded. To be honest, the notion of doing drugs and watching porn is seeming like a very bad idea. I can’t express just how bad of an idea. Just a wrong one, plain and simple. A disproportionately wrong one, as if, like, there’s some Scale of Bad Ideas in Life, and this one tops the list. I can think of nothing worse. Which is a good thing. For years I’ve been asking God to remove the desire. Please help me not want to use! Finally, I think He has answered.

The cut-down drinking is going well. Don’t get me wrong, it’s barely two pm and I’ve had five pints in all, but they are in the pub, reading a paper. I’m not guzzling tinnies back at home, and I won’t be buying any Karpackies on the way back either. Those Karpackies, I swear, they’re so addictive, but they catch up with you, being 9.0% and all. Karpackies.

I shared about my spirits in a Positive Thoughts therapy group yesterday. It didn’t go down all too well. No one understands. Nobody ‘gets it’. Oh, poor me, poor me, pour me another one, I’ve got presences all around me…who cares!? The reality is that nobody else is out there who I can relate to. They do my head in so much, but they are not as bad as the voices. The voices are unreasonably relentless, they’re impossible to cope with, I can’t put myself back there, in amidst that motley bunch!

On a plus point, my new girl Nicole has invited me to a Manchester Church on Sunday to hear from the famous author Barry Woodward. I’ve read his anthology book, it was good, so I’ll be looking forward to that. Nicole is a sister in Christ, so thumbs-up all around. We had a nice chat after Positive Thoughts. She told me about evidence of the Bible in YouTube documentaries. I call YouTube AdTube from now on. I mean, adverts before and after your song is excusable, but halfway through the song? Give me a break dude. That crap is unforgiveable. And sometimes the ads are longer than the song.

Yeah, so all well. I’ve been thinking of buying a tracksuit, or saving up for a laptop, or enjoying fine cuisine or something. I’ve got a few more quid than is per usual in my pocket, because I’m not wasting it on the coca. That coca is insane, you know. It’s never enuff like. There’s no amount that would suffice. So expensive. It really is a rich man’s drug. I hope I won’t be going back to it anytime soon. What a waste of doe.

 

Honesty Rant

Hello there, I pray that this reaches you in decent spirits today. I apologise for the six day hiatus, I hope that time spent away from you, my oh so precious White Voider, is minimised in the future.

          Now, what is there to say, apart an open display of honesty? I really am glad to be with you again, because I’ve just splurged all of my finances on a hedonistic bender! I feel abso-bloody-lutely rotten empty and hollow! As always, however, I’ll pull myself back into something that resembles a normal level of functioning. By the grace of God, understand…

          As is per usual when I am trying to bounce back from a spiritual clothesline (that stiff arm wrestling move), words are proving a struggle to come by. I just want to curl into a ball and pour my soul out in a tearful lament. But moping gets you nowhere. What does 50cent do, when times get hard for him? He doesn’t whinge and ball. He gets more G-Unit. When the going gets tough, and all that…

          I’m almost sure you’re not interested in all the saddening dreary dismal minutiae of a life not lived. You’re probably like me, someone who clings to the positive. I attend a weekly therapy group called Positive Thoughts each week. It’s led by a woman named Sue. She comes across as such a strong and happy woman that it is almost scary. I sure wouldn’t like to cross her. She has some very decent ground rules for the group which everyone respects. I know of other groups where people are playing on their mobile phones while people are talking.

          It is a small pipe dream of mine to perhaps run my own group one day, because I’ve been going along to them for so many years now. I think it would have to be based around psychosis. I’ve lined up the perfect partner to co-facilitate it with me. She’s only a young girl but she knows what she’s talking about and she has a heart of gold.

          We’d discuss fracturing of the mind and things like that, go all Mk-Ultra and Spirit Realm-y. If other young people attended with real problems it would be exceptionally therapeutic for all concerned. I know a guy named Duncan who suffers from Health Anxiety who started his own group off. He said it sank like a lead welly but at least he gave it a go.

          Duncan complains at lengths about things like moles and boils. Like me you might find this…what is the word here…irrelevant? Insignificant? I can’t quite think of the word I’m looking for. Anyway, to him, Health Anxiety means constantly overthinking about morbid thoughts relating to death. When he put it like that, I gained a newfound respect for his condition.

          G-Unit has no time for depression.

          To give Duncan credit, he always does something to act on any new fears which might arise, like booking online visits to health clinics after googling the ins-and-outs of what he’s worried about. That’s half of the problem, he admits. Usually, men don’t want to talk about any physical ailments they might be harbouring. When I got involved in a ruckus at my mate’s 18^th Birthday Party, my nose got broken. It has been partially crooked ever since, but I hardly ever even think about it, not even when I’m looking at it shaving in the mirror. We’ll talk about anything but the crux of the problem, as this blog demonstrates.

          I could go into the severe stresses of life I face on a daily basis, but I’m a man, and men don’t talk. Not unless they are lucky enough to have a personal online White Voider, who listens to everything they have to say. Yippee!

          My new literary recruit Amber (11 year old neighbour), is still pumping me for ideas. She wants something of merit to put on her future blog. I’ve suggested she get a picture of herself with her English teacher or something. I recommend she get herself into fishing so she can get herself a fishing photo too. They’re so mantelpiece-y, fishing photos. I have one myself, holding my first fish. A 12-pounder, I think. Maybe I’ll let you see it one day. x