Monday, May 22, 2006

If Love Is A Drug I Must Be Going Cold Turkey!

Having been born in north Africa (Libya), lived in Northern Ireland, and seen vast amounts of mainland Europe, and travelled the length and breadth of the UK, I find myself more and more restricted to the little island of Portsea (Island, it’s a ditch that separates the place from the “mainland”, but it is completely surrounded by water, when the tides in). It must be because of this that my outlook is becoming more and more restrictive. I am less and less likely to consider jobs in London (only an hour or so on the train from Portsmouth), or the Home Counties. I drink in the same pub at the moment (may the gods bless “The Drake”, and all who frequent her). After my complete breakdown and months of sleeping on the sofa, in a prozac (seroxat actually) induced stupor I find it easier to stick to my “safe” places, my home (until the bank tries to take that from me), my pub (as above), and the temp job I have in the local council.

It is probably of no surprise to you that during all this period I have of course not been in anything remotely close to a relationship with a member of the opposite sex (a cumbersome phrase). Please don’t take this as a “I’m not getting laid enough” whinge, it’s not (I’m not but that’s not what this is about). Having reduced my socialising to a small number of venues I found myself becoming more and more obsessed about fewer and fewer people. Until I am totally absorbed by one individual. This is of course the cumulative effect of prolonged depravation added to vast quantities of alcohol. Unusual for me as my taste is usually intellectuals, and more usually not British.

Funny really because all I can put this ever decrease in socialising, and an ever increase in an individual who I would have had little interest in previously, down to the obvious reduction of any real affection (on a personal basis). Unfortunately the reduction and the obsession increase exponentially until I completely implode and end up “Going Postal” with a Kalashnikov (AK-47) and running up and down commercial road randomly shooting anyone in Burberry or shell suites (so alls well that ends well).
Oh damn this is a whinge about me not getting enough after all.

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Anonymous Lynn said...

That's totally fine! You are doing what you need to do in order to get better. Depression is serious and if you were in a terrible funk then you need to take care of yourself and learn to deal on your own before you invite anyone else into your "darkness". I think taking time to heal is so important and I wish you well!

22 May, 2006 16:05  
Blogger littlebitofsonshine said...

Yes but the quest ion is enuff what or to much of what????

15 June, 2006 17:18  
Blogger meekon5 said...

Sex my dear, sex. In fact not getting any but that’s neither here nor there. I thought that was obvious!

16 June, 2006 08:31  
Blogger Lillie said...

Having spent far too many hours and words intellectually raving about not getting laid (enough), I can only say that we must try to get out of our heads and into the sheets (sorry, I don't mean together!) and turn off our brains long enough to JUST DO IT!

16 June, 2006 11:33  
Blogger littlebitofsonshine said...


18 June, 2006 13:46  

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