Hello, as you may know, the first 22 instalments of this blog are the text of my ebook, 'How To Become A Crack Addict' (from Jan to April 2013), which you can also buy on amazon if you want. From then on, it's the daily musings of yours truly, Benjamin of Turnham Green. Here are today's musings...
CLAWING AT SILENCE
Days can be so empty.
Sometimes, lodged at my computer, I wonder if I can sustain, and build on, this life without crack, without resorting to other things to fill the alleged void.
Yes, I've done a bit of voluntary work, which I found quite gruelling, in its weekly way. Maybe I should have tried something other than visiting another visually impaired person, when meeting him provided, in many ways, a stark reflection of self. He was quite an isolated elderly guy, in sheltered accommodation, and, although I liked him, and sympathised with his plight, he seemed to have a better social life than me. I managed to do it for nearly a year, and then drew it to a tactful close. And this was ok, I think.
I've begun doing some stand-up comedy spots too, which is, although quite terrifying, definitely one of the best things I've done lately. I began doing comedy before the crack came along, over ten years ago...I tried to pick it up halfway through my wasted decade, but to no avail...I'm so glad to be doing it again, and, so far, it's going quite well.
I have good friends, most of whom I don't ring or see enough. And so, in short, my life is still quite empty, and when a day begins, I can feel quite good at first, cup of tea, bit of youtube, anyone looked at my blog etc, but by lunchtime it can feel like my forehead's made of stone, tense, tight, throbbing not quite enough to be called pain, but just as draining I fear.
Then, if I'm not vigilant, I can easily slip into loose, despondent thinking, convincing myself that I could disappear for a day, go use...have money in the bank, no commitments in the next few days, and a quick fix of crack would fast-track me to somewhere, at least...when somewhere can seem so hard to get to in the normal course of things.
And then, a strange and deep current can if not buoy me up, at least stop me from drowning, and I'll hold on, however stony it gets, however quiet it seems, however much I feel like I'm clawing at silence, like wet chalk on a blackboard, screeching zigzags, hoping there's enough chalk to write what I need to write...
And that is all I have to say right now.