Because I’m a large child of advanced age, I’m sitting here on a “school night” I’ve left my responsibility of writing to the last moment. I’m now forced to pen an uninspired stream of consciousness piece in order to ensure I get to bed with the minimum allowable amount of sleep before work tomorrow. The allure of vodka in the freezer has been a prime enabler to this childishness. My motivation for drinking tonight was the fact that last night I managed to resist the temptation of drinking. I think this is how alcoholism starts. It’s fine for me to say that the amounts aren’t excessive right now. So far it’s just an enjoyable two fingers of vodka on the rocks times 2. So four fingers of vodka over the course of a few hours. The concept of putting fingers down my throat is vomit inducing, but let’s go with it. I’m lukewarm on the idea of actually having spirits in the house. It’s great and fun, but it also means they get consumed. My common rationale right now is that if I don’t have dessert things in my kitchen, vodka can be dessert. Problematic, right? Especially the part when I supplant one kind of substance abuse with another. On the other hand I’ve had a bottle of vodka for almost a week and it’s not finished. I’ve had about 4 or 5 drinking occasions and I’ve still got over 1/3 of the bottle left. I feel like given any number of drinking sessions 5 years ago I’d already have less than that, so maybe that’s progress? I also didn’t drink it on the rocks back then, so who knows how to feel about that? Is this just some subliminal attempt to further my Dan Harmon sycophancy now that I know I may actually be able to meet him (and inevitably embarrass myself through rampant fanboyism)? I’ve already got enough vocal ticks I’ve picked up from the guy. Can’t I leave it at that? Or am I just gonna have to create a critically lauded, commercially unsuccessful sitcom to further the comparison? Television certainly didn’t need a series based on illiterate White House speech writers (unless West Wing already did it), but it may well get one.
I got chilly as I sat down to write this and went to grab my dress-robe. I realised that nobody could see me, so I could effectively wear anything I wanted. Here I am garbed in tophatted dog pyjamas, a dinosaur T-shirt, moon boot style slippers and a leather jacket. I’ve been wanting to be the kind of person who looks good in a leather jacket for years, but I’ve been lacking in any leather jackets that suited me. A few months ago I corrected that grievous injustice. I feel like wearing a leather jacket and carrying off the look is dependent on feeling comfortable in what you’re wearing, so the more excuses I find to wear the jacket, the higher incidence of being someone who can “rock” it. So at the moment the soothing sounds of my typing are joined by the reassuring creak of tanned animal hide. Owning it. The jacket that is. It’s mine, not anyone else’s. Getting possessive in more ways than one.
I started swimming again. Today I finally got back to where I was a year ago. Jumping back to a few years ago I’d done some pretty heinous things to my knee (all legal, just unfortunate) and had to take time off lifting heavy things or activity involving knee impact. I picked up swimming, because I’ve always come to life in the water, like some kind of growable water sponge toy. I started by swimming 30 laps and had a plan to get up to 80 laps by the end of 3 months. By adding a few laps each week, I got there. 2km in one swim which, due to my shitty kicking technique, basically meant pulling myself 2km across the water. I started a week or two ago and could barely tie together 2 laps in a row. I went again on Sunday and managed to string up 50 laps. Today I started as soon as the lane swimming session begun and was one of the last in the pool. Just managed to hit 80 laps as they pulled in the lanes. Slow and steady. They’ve got reflective windows surrounding the pool and nothing makes you feel more like a god than stepping out of a pool dripping wet and seeing your reflection. Regardless of physique (obviously. Present company, y’know?) you can’t help reflecting a shade of Adonis. Your muscles are all tense from the workout you’ve just had and it makes you look like a total badass. Or a slightly more risqué Pride and Prejudice Colin Firth. Anything to smooth over that ego.
Or else I just step out of enough pools and I’ll feel confident enough to think these leather jackets actually suit me.