What to write on a day without dope. I guess these days are, technically, just as real as dope days, but try telling me that now.
Since I arrived home what, 3.5 hours ago, I have sat on a sofa. Watched Dexter episodes 11 and 12 of Season 1, been a little, no a lot, surprised by the revelation of Dexter's relative, heated up some of last night's lasagne, and, mostly, thought about S. I guess dope withdrawal doesn't help the sense of isolation and loneliness. I have realised that what my parents have worried about , me sitting in a cold dirty flat, is in reality not such an appealing life.
Funny how one other consciousness in the flat pushed the boundaries outwards, to a point where they were not perceived. They had melted into the background like the noisy city my neioghbour tells me of. I was foolish enough to say how quiet I thought living here was, he laughed. Garbage chutes, carparks and 200 residents could never reaaly be quiet except to one who doesn't really listen anymore. But that extra consciousness in my flat washed it away. That is a reality more effective than any Ikea catalogue bought reality I could ever find.
So how can a concept affect me more than a thing? I guess that's something I need to understand.
Hey, btw, this morning i got off the train at Toowong to 4 or 5 whiteshirt ticket guys, and just blitzed through doing a "Hey! I'm just still taking out my ticket in its nice little holder guys" and got through without the expected Oi! calling me back. Would've been embarassing, co-workers I know catch the same train...
I am pushing my luck a little much these days to save a buck for gabo...