Drinking is neither physically, mentally or economically healthy. But I’ll keep doing it.

J’s Diary Entry

Saturday, 3 June 1995

Had only 3 neat vodkas at “Klicks” last night. I feel strong and depressed and lonely as usual.  It’s a curious choice: waste $60 on a good time I can’t actually remember, or save $60 and feel strong and depressed and lonely.  I’m sort of inclined to think that if I can’t remember the good time, then what’s the point?  I’m actually just buying 4 or 5 hours respite from myself, its’s pure blotting out.  It’s neither physically nor mentally nor economically healthy.

Spent the rest of the night on the couch with my head under the blanket feeling depressed, listening to music and fending off Leah’s timid concerned approaches.  I find it peculiarly numbingly comfortable on the couch with my head under the blanket.  Maybe it’s a childhood thing.

Leah advertised in the paper again for a housemate.  She took the first one. A guy called Troy, 19 years old and just over from Hobart with a mobile phone and a shaved head.  He seems nice. They applied for a 2 bedroom place in Fitzroy.  After Leah and I came home, Triple J FM rang and spoke to Leah on-air about housemates (Leah had asked for Triple J listeners in her newspaper ad) and she took the opportunity to slag off Tim on national radio. It was fucking hilarious and exciting too.

Went shopping at the hardware store, bought a stud finder, a colander, a dish rack and some picture wire. I re-hung the prints in the lounge room, the ones S sent me. Oh yes I am becoming a regular little Handeeeeee- MAN!

drinking 001

Art by J

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