Diary Of A Weekend

markperandin (61)in #blog • 7 years ago

Friday

11.34

Like any good bender it must always start with sustainance. Instead of the usual cheap sandwich deal, I headed to the Crosse Keys for a full English breakfast and a pint of Guinness.

The rest of the working day was uneventful.

15.47

I checked in to my room. In desperate need of warmth, a shower and patron. They came quickly. You gotta love those giant shower head showers. The degradation of my pitiful life, washed away, in a Tropical Storm.

The calming effect of the hotel take me as I listen to great music on my speaker and start to consume my patron and corona.

I need a cigarette. Time to check the bar.

17.03

Slightly annoyed about seating but I calm myself with a Cape 75( French 75 but with champagne)

Still annoyed about seating as I want to sit on big chairs.

Ooo. Are they leaving?

17.58

Better. Much better. I secured the big seats. I feel like a Bond villian. I was so happy about it, when I went outside for a cigarette, I bought a Big Issue for a tenner. The northern lass selling did look Fucking cold though. She seemed happy.

Now to relax with a little reading(by that, I mean, secretive people watching.)

19.49

Like wolves. They all covert the giant chairs. I’ve got a tab. They are mine!

Saturday

09.02

I feel like a ghost. Alone. Wandering around Victoria station. Extra shot coffee but what I want is a drink. I’ve gone on holiday by mistake. The joy of last night is replaced by remorse. Was there too much abuse? I always want to say so much but fear and loathing prevent my confession. How do you compress the emotion? Or is it because there is none? Always be thankful. Skin on skin. The heartbeat. Breathing in, breathing out. I have so much, but appreciate so little. A moment. Shh. Stop talking now, stop!

Open arms, for broken hearts. Never the right arms.

Learn to be selfish.

10.11

Body clean but inside still stained yellowy, black. I head for sanctuary. Camden Town. Once a weekend home. A home for all my favourite and hated memories. Still a home.

11.13

The clouds are lifting. Retail therapy. I’m still waiting for that Bloody Mary. What’s wrong with drinking before 11am? I’ll just have to make do with a proper breakfast drink.

12.22

One trip to the modfather shop later, I have finally come in from the sleet and acquired what I desperately craved. That Bloody, bloody Mary!

Sitting, quietly, in The Cuban, Camden market. Away from tourists. Away from myself, just for a time. In front of me is a huge photo of Che Guevara. It always reminds me. Money is sacred. People and culture aren’t. Proverty, disease, hunger. Thats fine. As long as the Americans can get fruit to pretend they are healthy!Rant over.

(Then bought 2nd bloody Mary. It was so fucking nice!)

16.09

I got bored of Camden so decided to retire the the hotel for Patron and Corona. As soon as proper alcohol/blood levels are achieved. I’ll venture out again.

17.03
Unnamed food/antique market. Workplace of a friend. Excellent cocktail bar. The delights of the salty, mezcal concoction.

Laughs and stories but already the looming reality is so close at hand.

Sunday

12.38

Truthfully, that was I whole point of it, surely? To remember what I’m trying to achieve with my life. What I’m trying to rebuild. Harsh words are only harsh because you don’t want to hear them. Because those words are in you. You know them. You know the truth of them. When someone else says them, you feel their power. You see how it looks from anothers perspective. How bad it can look. This is because laziness is the worst excuse. People will overlook it and look for other reasons for you dragging your feet.It’s not all doom and gloom. It’s not over yet. I’m leaving the city and am homeward bound. Straight into the warmth of those beautiful angels I love so much. Away from my desire but happy with truths and words said. There is hope yet. Hope that one day, the sun will rain down on my smiling carcass. Smiling due to happiness not chemical or alcohol induced. Just happy.