I think I’ve sacrificed enough of my life to booze, I’ve explored all it has to offer and it’s time to move on.

J’s Diary Entry

2 Jan 2003

Spent the day in not very grown up fashion, skulking around the city on the run from Ian The Turkey.  He’s been exhibiting signs of aggression since our New Year’s Eve party after Jade and I ran beserkly around the house, drunk as sailors, proclaiming our loathing of him at the tops of our lungs.  Then I snubbed him cruelly (he wanted to play REM) in front of a small crowd and he retreated to his room to stink of beer and PlayStation.  And since Jade is now back at work, I can’t face the prospect of sitting around the house with his sorry arse while he

  1. drinks a dozen cans a day
  2. glowers at me or
  3. talks, talks, TALKS at me.

Sweet Jesus what a BORE! So instead I creep out of the house at 9:30am and walk all over Richmond and the CBD watching films (“8 Femmes” today at the Kino), and then shopping and then lingering in ‘orrible food courts over coffee that should be crap but is actually OK.  Then I sneak home when I’m sure Jade is in and I start my DIY projects and beat Jade at Scrabble.  Have managed to avoid any really large purchases over this break but am haemorrhaging cash nonetheless.  This diary and pen cost me $70.00  Oh well, it is a good habit, diarising.

Anyway Ian seems less openly hostile today, but still withdrawn.  Hopefully he’s looking for a new place.  He really does smell.  And he’s patronizing, always trying to “educate” me, trying to force me to watch crap DVDS.  God he is so opinionated, has a crap, second-hand aphorism for everything.  He even has the balls to make jokes about gay culture to me.  BAH! Why have I been feeling bad, he IS a loser who we need to boot out.  He tells the same crap stories over and over, he’s such a TRY-HARD, a sheltered Brighton boy cowed by the success of his parents.  I mean, he’s meant to be a “writer” (God only knows how shite that book of his is – it’s 600 pages long!) but he admits that he doesn’t read.  He’s a 34 year old “writer” who didn’t know what “gaudy” or “garish” meant.  Now I sound patronising but, dammit, he brings out the worst in people. Nadia loathed him on sight and implored us to boot him out immediately.  She’s working in Canberra now.  She said she ran into Cav, my erstwhile obdurate object of desire, and told him that I’d gone fruity.  Apparently he raised his eyebrows and made what I think is called a “wry face” and said something along the lines of “Really?”  Sadly, Cav has not gone fruity himself, but Nadia tells me he has a ball-breaking lawyer girlfriend.

Now let me cast my brain back to the NYE party.  Initially devised by Jade as an “intimate soirée”, it blossomed to a total of about 15.  Jade was eagre to christen her new BBQ. I did what I usually do.  I sat back and said “This is Jade’s thing, not mine.” And then about 4 or 5 of my friends are invited by Jade’s and my mutual friends and then people wanna know why “they weren’t invited”. BAH!

Anyway, Jand and I got rotten-drunk. I was so bladdered that when I tried to go to sleep I got the “room is spinning” feeling and had to get back up.  I started drunkenly cleaning up, then went for a walk, went to the Market at 6.00am, bought bacon and eggs for those who stayed over.  I then finally managed to force a Berocca down my throat, eat a sandwich, and go to bed.  I didn’t sleep much, but got a fair bit of tossing and moaning and self-loathing done.  It was then that I decided to give up drinking for my New Year’s Resolution (how NOVEL!).  It helped me through my hangover, clenching the sheets in my shame addled fists, chanting “This is the LAST time I will feel like this.” Hopefully I’ll be able to stick at it.  I think I’ve sacrificed enough of my life to booze, I really do.  I think I’ve explored all it has to offer and it’s time to move on. Sure, I’ll never get laid again, but so what?

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