Some of you may have noticed a slight gap between posts!
Those of you who have been reading my diary excerpts will know by now that this is not unusual.
Sometimes I go into hibernation and am not in the mood to revisit the past.
This current time of hibernation is coming to an end (I suddenly feel alive as winter approaches) and so expect more from the past soon.
RDK
my head sounds like that
Wednesday 1st January 2003.
Dancing, drinking, shouting at Jools Holland on the TV, drinking, mixing cocktails, drinking too much, sitting in the bathroom – hand un-hygenically lingering inside the toilet bowl, popping balloons, mixing strange foods together, eating food and mixing with booze.
New Year’s Eve 2002.
What makes this New Year any different from last year or any other? Nothing. Each one is an excuse to forget the pain and misery of the previous year. To wipe that slate clean of all your mistakes, of all the bullies you let go, all the friends you lost touch with, the lovers you might have had but had the good sense to stay clear.
Is this life, I ask myself?
Limping year to year counting the corpses…not literally, of course…but sometimes in my case.
I drank too much. My brain with dehydrated and although I could see and think, my body was not responding. I was like a Terminator having had it’s guts impaled by Sarah Connor, desperately trying to complete my mission in one last futile attempt. I collapsed on the bed in my full clothes. Impressively enough, my stomach held onto all of its contents. A fact, at the time, I was most proud of.
3am.
I didn’t dream. My thoughts were burnt out, short circuited by the last week of pain and worrying.
I awoke with a start to see Claire lying in an awkward position next to me on the bed. How she had fallen sleep like that, I will never know. But that’s Claire for you; resiliant as ever – like a cat.
I could hear a mixing noise coming from the kitchen, like someone cooking, preparing something. Cookies maybe?
I knew it wasn’t Claire, but I suspected that it was one of our friends.
I entered the kitchen to find it empty. The noise had stopped.
On the way down the stairs my mind had been filled with “The Sixth Sense” style scenes with all of the draws and cupboards left open.
I had made a fatal mistake.
“Ray!” The voice shouted behind me and I jumped, lurching across the room and crashing, face-first, into the woodern surface of a cuprboard door. I span round with only one of my eyes working and an awful stabbing pain in my jarred neck and back.
I called out, feeling incredibly stupid.
“I know you can hear me!” The voice cried again. It was distorted like it was on short wave radio. Crackly, some of the signal being lost somewhere o along the way.
“I can’t see you.” I responded, fully aware that I was talking to myself.
“You’re wasting your time with your plans.” Sally said irritably.
I span round again, trying to pin-point her location, but I could not. She was not int the room.
She was in my head.
“I don’t know what to do.” I confessed. And finally, there I was admitting that without Deacon I was like a feotus in a giant fist about to be crushed.
“Look for me.” She said. “I’m not far away.”
Then I remembered something that always bothered me – no, really pissed me off, about those phsycics on TV…they never get surbnames or anything specific.
“How the fuck am I supposed to find you; I don’t know your fucking name!” I shouted. In pain and angry.
Then she fell silent and the room went cold. Had I pissed her off? Could a voice inside your head get angry with you? Is that was this is? Am I splitting into two different people. Shit, maybe my brain is damaged?
Then I felt an icy grip on my arm and a sharp hot pain entered my chest and I felt as if my heart were about to literally burst out through my chest.
“MATTHEWS” She shouted. And she was gone. Her energy exhuasted by her communication with me.
I collapsed on the floor, knocking myself unconcious on the kitchen sink on the way down.
