Just a wee update for anyone whose radar I’m still on. It’s, well… it’s been a hell of a year and a half, what with the various things that come with homelessness, AND addiction issues, but today I’m in a good (enough) place. It’s been a struggle, I won’t lie, but am through the worst of it, I feel. I finally had that ‘paradigm shift’ I was longing for, and I MAY talk about that another day, but this is just a quick check-in before I get to writing about it all properly.
There’s a lot to write about. My 9 month reliance on the ‘care’ of the religious, which brought with it its own madness, my eventual fall from ‘grace’ with them, and descent into proper homelessness. I met some good people in all those places though, some of whom I call friends still, and, on the flipside, I had to lose certain people from my life. Some things you just gotta walk away from. I also dealt with the death of my mother during this period. Anyway as I say, I’m in a good place now, and also starting to make up with people I’d fallen out with. I WILL write properly about my experiences soon, if they’re of any interest to anyone.
I’ll leave you (for now) with a couple of recent doodles.
Plus bonus cartoon:
In my dreams, I’m never drinking. It doesn’t even be on my mind (whether I’m drunk or sober going to bed). I’m mixing with people. Mostly new people. Making things. Doing things. Hanging out. Though sometimes there’s weed around. It’s usually somewhere I’ve never been before. A random house gathering somewhere in the country. I’m with people I know, even though I’ve never met them in real life. Sometimes it could be a house full of women. And contrary to popular belief, men don’t necessarily dream of scantily glad, high-heeled slutty types (Only occasionally, if we’re lucky. Though something ALWAYS thwarts the act of sex in these dreams). But ‘real’ women. Slightly overweight, in turtle-necks and jeans. Maybe short hair and glasses. True beauty. The kind of women I prefer to mix with.
Or it could be a group of people I’m working with, in a strange yet oddly familiar place. I had a dream once of working with a particular bunch of lads in a place in the country, that months later turned out to be where I ended up in treatment. I even recognised one of the guys from that dream. I’m not totally against the notion of premonition. It is, as The Doctor puts it, just ‘remembering in the wrong direction’.
These dreams are the better ones. The ones that show a possible future where I’m just getting on with life. Or maybe, as I like to think of things, dreams are a window into a parallel universe where things are played out differently.
Then there are the dreams which feature recurring places. Usually my grandparent’s house, or my family home (always much bigger in my dreams because my head remembers it from a child-sized point of view).
Or an old job. That comes up a lot. My first job, which lasted nearly 10 years. I hated every day of it, but I suppose my longing for routine and financial security makes me miss those days. It was also the job where I was pressured into drinking (and smoking), so maybe my subconscious head goes back there in an attempt to retrace my mental steps, and undo the damage. Grud knows, my conscious head does it all the time!
Then of course there are the bad dreams. The dreams where you can nearly feel a presence. A presence that feels evil. That grips you, and won’t let you wake up. Do you ever get that, or is it just me? ‘Cos it worries me sometimes. You need to scream to wake yourself up. And you may have one or two dream levels to go through before you ACTUALLY wake up.
I’d bad dreams recently, a couple of weeks ago. Can’t remember the exact details (pain forgets), but I had to shout to wake myself up. Except I was still dreaming. Again, can’t remember what about. Probably talking to my grandad who, although dead, has ‘gotten better’. Fair enough, head, but it’s still a dream. Wake up. I wake up to a party going on. Oh look, there’s that ex. Although we’re aware of each other, there is no attempt by either of us to communicate, even though we are mixing with the same people. It’s the subconscious again, trying to deal with things that were left unsaid in real life. We may START to talk, but just as you realise you’re dreaming again, because there’s no logical reason we two should be in the same room, and you wake up again.
This time you find yourself on a trolley-bed, in a hospital ward, surrounded by about 20 other trolleys, it’s the middle of the night, and you’ve a drip attached to your arm. You’ve been in the same clothes for days, and they smell. Hang on, you can’t notice smells in dreams, can you?
I want to go back.
As part of my almost daily routine now, to kill the 3 or 4 hours between dinner on Merchant’s Quay, and my eventual walk back through a bleak landscape to my hostel for the night, and if I have the money, I like to sit in The Thomas House, sipping a couple of pints of splash diet cola, and drawing into a cheap A5 drawing pad I picked up. These are some of the results. I’ll post more whenever someone with a camera comes into my company again 🙂
Nyah! Well THAT what excruciating.
If I may take a moment out of my busy street-wandering schedule, for some narcissistic meandering (hey let’s face it, I’m a ‘creative’. Everything I say or do is narcissistic), I’d like to go into some detail on my most recent regeneration. As regenerations go, this last one was tough. Almost violent, I’d say. And lasted a fucking year.
My new persona would appear to be a trifle… ‘spiky’. I like it.
Also liking the new costume (wine-coloured denim jacket, black hoody, dark blue jeans and green chucks) and even happy with the hairstyle.
I’ll keep it, I think.
Anyway, this is a warning to the monsters. I’m coming.
Onward and upward!