Hiding out in the rather large and dim basement of my parents’ house in Canada; the corner of it that is my dad’s amazing “office.” My dad is truly one of my favourite people on the planet… imagine the world of a bookish troglodyte…
I sit on a makeshift cot with dusty sheets, near makeshift shelves housing dusty piles of books, papers, files, pencils dangling on bits of string; maps and random papers tacked to makeshift wood-panelled walls, a cotton curtain for a door… old lamps standing with bowed heads in silent contemplation…
I’m exhausted. It’s been non-stop people, and yes I love them but I can only take so much small talk.
In my darkest moments I wonder why in heck we bother to be together? Times like these I realize once again why I’ve dreamed of living at a Buddhist monastery. It’s so I could experience constant community but with like-intentioned people…
I love people! But mostly in silent or verbal reverence for each other, or for the present moment…. yes, I know A. is vomiting in her mouth a bit right now…
When people get together for life-passage events, and really all we need and want to do is hug, cry, have tantric sex (lol Jim), stare into each other’s eyes and appreciate the god-forces in each other… or at the very least, talk about life and death…
but what most do instead is talk about the weather, the recipes, the self-aggrandizing hero stories, the latest tattoo or hair dye experiment… the latest acquisitions, accomplishments…
I think I used to drink to be able to bear it.
Now I’m sober it’s pretty damned taxing.
I’ve been out of my writing routine. I used to write a thousand words each morning to purge my thoughts.
I haven’t been doing that, so I’ve got muddy backwaters addling my brain.
I have to say, though, that it was at first so comforting and reassuring to connect with family and friends here…
for me what ruins it is that people linger on way past the “done” point, and imho that is completely thanks to mind-altering substances. Instead of going to bed or retreating, people numb themselves and think it’s communion.
The conversation does not, for the record, get better. It gets more delusional. The inebriated speaker only repeats themselves, usually louder and more forcefully, or weaker and more slurringly, depending on the personality type.
Just notes from a sober, perhaps-slightly-more-aware-than-before, and progressively-grumpy-feeling outside observer in a packed house.
I don’t even have time to mourn my mom, other than the night-cries.
I will do that in private, in the next days, on the page.
Oh wow! Just realized I’m 10 months, 2 days alcohol-free.
I think I will also mention that I’m substance-free in general, with the exception of caffeine (oh and a strange attraction to salt liquorice).
So many people smoke pot here it’s crazy.
The house, after last night, reeks of it.
It’s legal in BC, now, so folks become more open about it. That’s a positive step I think. Regularization and quality control is good. Next to the government liquor stores there are government cannabis stores.
Many people are also taking various medications. One family member and their friend in particular is (inadvertently) pushing drugs on me left right and centre. Do I want this to sleep? that to wake up?
The western world is mostly on drugs; good to know.
For me, the answer is “No”
2020-02-26: published privately at first. 2020-03-14: Made public.