Cooking has become my new outlet, it has risen to a level of importance beyond expectation. It is calming. it relaxes me and sets the stressful issues aside during moments of duress. I am temporarily removed from the ebb and flow of the dull routine aspiring to acquiesce to the mundane existence that has been offered us. How can I? What can I? Do? I'm next to broke all the time, my family is of no means to support this war I wish to wage, my enemy is limitless and morality is of no concern...resources abound! What can one accomplish? I am not David to their Goliath, I am just...some guy in a basement apartment drinking and thinking. A worrisome downward spiral from which is near impossible to overcome. I've been trying... Some ideas prevail, yet others flounder. Hiding in my room filling my life with YouTube, Netflix and sleep has not solved anything. I have found going outside to be troublesome as well. I tend to walk out my door with every intent on accomplishing something productive, but as always happens, I slowly corrupt my purpose and make my way to where I said I wouldn't go. I'm not safe at home, at work, or just out...it follows me everywhere. What started as a vacation turned into a vocation, though this one costs much more dearly. The challenge lies before me. An effort must be made on my part to fill my time and my liver with much more than liquor. i am trying to adjust my ways, i have tried numerous things to distract my thirst, but like a vampire to fresh blood, as am I to the drink. Biking, walking, reading, gardening, cooking all make me happy. The whole of this list make me feel as if I'm bettering myself, yet the problem lies with the fact that whilst preparing and cooking I imbibe...
Julienne the onions...sip. Sautée the vegetables...sip. Simmer the sauce...sip. Bring to a boil...sip. Pasta al dente...sip. Strain...sip. Combine...sip. Plate...sip.........
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I venture out for a walk, or a ride and eventually I find myself standing in front of a liquor store cashier holding a bottle I didn't even ask for. Not because it is being forced upon me, but due to the fact it is what I always ask for. I got a fucking bottle of whisky for Christmas last year. That is some kind of special.
It's hard work, this whole climbing out of a rut... Everyday I ask myself a thousand times if I wanna go to the pub... Do ya maybe wanna pop by the liquor store? Is there any booze left? If there's none of that, does anyone I know know where to find you know what? Faaaack.
Nonstop. This is waaay harder than I thought. Ask yourself 100 times. Answer emphatically NO 99 times. Answer YES meekly once and you fail. This shit is tough. I'm on my own, support is lacking because I'm too proud to reach out. I'm stubborn and selfish and stupid.
I did, however, extend an olive branch to a man I just recently betrayed, in an attempt to repair our falling out. I was still reeling from an earthquake in my own life and used him to a point that was beyond disrespect. It hurts me everyday. I wrote an apology letter and left it in his mailbox. Is this cowardice? Would you prefer I approached personally to deliver a bastardized version of what I needed to say? This way I've formulated my thoughts and delivered them without disruption. Face to face is a meeting meant for the future. I have no hope here. I have said my piece on paper to the wronged party. If said party wishes it so, I would love to open up a dialogue in an attempt to salvage the friendship. Respect and admiration bordering on idolatry have made this betrayal feel far worse than any in the past. Never have I been so mad at myself for stabbing my boss in the back. The things I would endure to take it all back....
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