Trying to remove myself from the dependency of crutchdom, I find myself revisiting places that became the staple of another time. But leaning philosophical, every day presents another time. Still, retaining some sense of civility, I am amused by the fact that at the very moment of reminisce, I stumbled across old heads from old times. They themselves were never my bar fellows, but they haunted the edges of that life. Now, I feel like I’m back on the tracks after a total derailment, and yet I wonder, like I do every morning on awakening, whether I’m just deluding myself. And yet I’m also inclined to believe that that is what it is like to chase a dream. Always infused by a vibrancy I one time tried to replicate through booze,…but far be it for me to demonise, afterall it is only those who can’t handle it that speak of a glorious life without it. Plenty’s the guy who never missed a day in his life, never feigned illness to skip a moment’s work…(I secretly pity them but that is just like my opinion man!)… But that is not my point. All I wanted to say is that it is nice to find myself again living with intention, not simply prey to mundanity, and even if I had the luxury to choose another way, and nearly always I have had, I believe that one some time in one’s life needs to experience the weakest aspect of their being in order to understand their strength. It’s clichéd I’m sure, but tell that to those who’ve died trying. To all and sundry, I bid you a good morrow.
