August 19, 2003 @ 10:20pm
Drink Drank Drunk

In the whole time I've been writing this journal, I don't think I've ever made a drunken post.

Well, guess what?

And it's only Tuesday too. I like to get in early with this kind of stuff you know. Me and my good buddy Margarita. Or perhaps that should be my good buddies Margarita.

I'm erasing a lot right now. Making a lot of typos. I tried to play solitaire before, but it was really, really difficult and I gave up because I got really confused.

And I got lost on the way home. At Richmond Station. I don't know if you've ever stood on a train platform staring up at the sign and thinking nothing but "I don't live in Sandringham!" for about thirty seconds, but it's terrifying. Especially the bit about Sandringham. So I ran back down into the tunnel, and Stu had disappeared and I freaked out. Then I remembered where I needed to be. Got onto platform and the train rolled up right away. Climbed aboard and continued reading Nights at the Circus. Arrived home, rechristened the cat "Digger" and ruminated on the state of my bedroom (dastardly, but also not without its charm).

Which all brings me to here.

I've been a tad melancholic of late (as opposed to tonight, where I'm alcoholic). Partly because not a lot has really been happening to me, partly because I'm again trying to figure stuff out. Same old same old, really. Pondering the extent to which I come off as standoffish, and the extent to which I really am standoffish. It would probably be nice to trust people a little more. Thinking back today there's been many people over the years - people I have considered good friends, in fact - who have expressed frustration with me and all my walls. These aren't people that expect emotional nudity within the first stages of friendship (although sometimes they have been people who have expected the physical type). They have been patient and kind as we've gotten to know each other, and have eventually made it clear just how difficult I'm unintentionally being. Deirdre put it well, after we had known each other for about six months - "you're really fucking hard to get to know, you know that?", which is generally how it can all be summed up. I don't mean to be obtuse. I'm not trying to be the tall mysterious wanker in the corner. You find yourself getting punched a lot, you learn to block pretty quickly.

I don't think I've actually lost friends over this. I think I've just irritated a lot of people.

And part of the closed-offedness is partly wrapped up in this journal. I don't write anything I'm ashamed of here, I don't bitch out my friends (often...). I've always just kept things separate. It's easier, and less risky (I'm never actually sure what risks I'm worried about). I'm not even sure why I still keep with the secrecy. A couple of my friends read this, including Stuart. I've met some people through this. I don't know what the hiding is for anymore.

This is just something I've been thinking about the last couple of days, moreso since catching up with Claire yesterday. I'm not sure I've come to any conclusions, about anything, but hey I think that's my motto anyway. "How About You Give Me a While to Think About This." I have some ideas about the motivation, but not necessarily the manifestation.

It's funny how I have no trouble showing intimacy and trust to people when I know I'm not as important or influential a character in their narrative as they are in mine. I've got my barely verbalised list of the people who totally, 100% never fail to rock my world, and I think about two, maybe three of them would return the favour. I don't think I explained that very well. Let's say I give you a list of people I consider close friends, people I greatly like and admire. I think for most of them, I'd be a fond casual acquaintance, nothing more. I don't know.

I have reached the babbling stage of the evening. If we were sitting at a bar together right now, you and I, I'd be leaning over a lot and stumbling on every second word. Which is odd, really, because I haven't actually had anything to drink for a while now. I think tequila has cumulative effects on me, although I am not sure how this is possible.

And now the cumulative effects have made their way to my bladder. Tallyho and goodnight.

<<|>>