“People think it’s all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn’t do it. After all, we’re not fucking stupid. At least, we’re not that fucking stupid.”
If you’re reading this and you’ve never experienced the fleeting moment where an external substance has taken away the pain, then – good luck to you – I love you 🙂
Me – I suspect I’m closer to the millions, probably billions of people that relate to the scenario where it’s late morning, you’re still in pajamas on your second drink and the day is actually looking kinda good for a change. The underlying issues are still there but you don’t need to deal with them right now – shit – the immediate issues are there too and you don’t have to deal with them either!
Of course if you’re going to be OK you know this isn’t real – you know you’re going to have to pay the piper – but at least for now – for today – and in this state – well – anything can happen…
For me – it’s walking to the loch in the rain – 10 yr old Talisker at my hip – belting out the end of this song – full on – top of the lungs – asking the creator:
“When will we find our solace and our sanctuary lines?”
And it feels soooo good, like you’re actually at one with the universe and that everything’s going to be OK, and maybe – probably – it’s the alcohol – but who cares, ‘cos at this point there’s this magical union between who you are, how you feel and the outside world – it’s absofuckinglutely amazing.
In that moment, I do indeed find my solace and my sanctuary lines…
…until the couple hiking the other way appear round the corner and look at me like a madman.
And that’s the point isn’t it – these moments – these artificially induced oases – they’re for us alone – to remind us of how life can be – how it could be – but also of how it isn’t yet. They’re not for sharing, at least not with sober strangers – while the hikers may remember the madman howling in the rain, my memories are more concerned with soaking jeans, frozen toes and of course a slight hangover.
But as Irvine intimated – it isn’t all bad – I still remember the emotion – the feeling – the only slightly “adulterated” expression of joy – and I know I want it again. The trick is to get there without external help – the funny thing is – walking in the rain is a great place to start, just maybe next time I’ll leave the hip flask at home.
