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I WAS AT A TRAIN STATION. IT WAS 8 O�CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND I WASN�T FEELING AT MY BEST, TO PUT IT MILDLY. THE PEOPLE AT THE JOB CENTRE HAD SENT ME ON A TWO DAY �DEVELOPMENT� COURSE TO �DEVELOP� MY SKILLS OR SOMETHING. I WASN�T LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. THE NIGHT BEFORE HAD DISAPPEARED INTO THE NECK OF A WINE BOTTLE AND I WAS PAYING THE PRICE. I SAT ON THE COLD BENCH AND THOUGHT ABOUT IT�
� THE ALCOHOL RUSH SHAKES ME, SENDS ME SPINNING INTO SOMETHING I�VE FELT BEFORE, A GOD I SHOULD HAVE KNELT BEFORE. IT TAKES ME. SENDS ME INTO FEVER. DISORIENTS ME. SHAPES AND BENDS ME. A RUSH, A CRUSH OF LATE NIGHT FUCK-UPS. AN EMOTIONAL REJECT ACCEPTED BY THE BOTTLE AS THE LATEST ONE TO FALL. EVERY NIGHT THE SAME. I POUR THE POISON IN MY BODY. IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE THE ROOM IS SHAKING, THE WORLD IS MOVING LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE, RUMBLING TOWARDS THE BITTER DAYLIGHT. THINGS GET LOST. THEY MATTER BUT THEY GET LOST AND ARE GONE BEFORE YOU KNOW IT. SOMETIMES THEY COME BACK BUT IT CAN TAKE YEARS AND AT WHAT COST DO THEY RETURN? THE SWEET TASTE SOON EVAPORATES AND ALL THAT REMAINS IS BITTERNESS. I LEAVE WITHOUT A WORD. I DREAM ABOUT LEAVING BUT REALITY ALWAYS PRE-EMPTS THE ACT. I REMAIN WHERE I AM. HOW PATHETIC IT FEELS�
THE TRAIN WAS VERY LATE.
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I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO GO INSANE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SUPERMARKET. I HAD LEFT IT UNTIL LATE ON A SUNDAY AFTERNOON, PUTTING OFF BUYING GROCERIES LIKE THE VEGETABLES I NEEDED TO MAKE THE STIRFRIES I LIVED ON. THE PLACE WAS PACKED OUT. FAMILIES WITH TROLLEYS FULL OF FINE CHEESES, EXPENSIVE WINES. I FELT LIKE SHIT, WITH A DAY OLD HANGOVER STILL WREAKING HAVOC ON MY PERCEPTION OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD. EVERYTHING SEEMED TO BE MOVING IN SLOW MOTION BUT NOT SLOW MOTION LIKE YOU SEE IN FILMS. JUST A SPLIT SECOND SLOWER THAN NORMAL, SO THAT THE DIFFERENCE WAS ALMOST IMPERCEPTIBLE. ALMOST. I WANDERED DOWN EACH ISLE, BANGING INTO PEOPLE WHEREVER I WENT. I LOOKED AT THINGS I HAD NO INTENTION OF BUYING. JARS OF SPICES, PORRIDGE OATS, TIN OPENERS. WHEN I HAD PICKED ALL THE VEGETABLES I NEEDED AND CAREFULLY WEIGHED THEM, I WENT INTO THE �BEVERAGES� ISLE. AFTER PUTTING A CAN OF DIET LEMONADE INTO MY BASKET, I LOOKED AT ALL OF THE ALCOHOL I COULDN�T AFFORD TO BUY. AS I CONTEMPLATED WHAT TO GET, SEVERAL MIDDLE-AGED MEN AND WOMEN PASSED, LOADING BOTTLES OF EXPENSIVE WHISKEY AND GIN INTO THEIR TROLLEYS WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. OCCASIONALLY, A RED-FACED MAN WOULD COME ALONG AND PLACE A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY OR VODKA IN HIS BASKET, WHICH WAS OTHERWISE EMPTY EXCEPT FOR A POUND OF BUTTER OR A LOAF OF BREAD. I ALWAYS THOUGHT THERE WAS SOMETHING RATHER HEROIC ABOUT THAT. THE QUEUE AT THE CHECK-OUT WAS VERY LONG. I STOOD IN THE �TEN ITEMS OR LESS� QUEUE AS USUAL. I �CHECKED-OUT� THE WOMAN IN FRONT OF ME. SHE HAD TOILET ROLLS AND CROISSANTS IN HER BASKET. MAYBE SHE WAS INTO SHITTING PASTRY. WHY ELSE SPEND HALF AN HOUR OF HER TIME IN SUCH AN ENVIRONMENT? THE THOUGHT MADE ME SMILE. BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND.