Sweet Pickled Baby Onions

Autobiographical, mental health

I recently got back in touch with an ex. This is not as some of you may think J. We have never really stopped speaking to each other. No it is a case of going back in time a few more years and saying T. T came before J and J came after A. Much as I did not think it would happen, T wrote back. She had been to Stonehenge, that was yesterday. Today my new washing machine arrived, it is a quiet machine and does not make ridiculous tunes when you ask it to do something. It is going to need some detergent at some point, the powder stuff is being swapped for the liquid formula (probably) It is easier to use, takes up less space and a host of other factors. My plan for going out and getting it this afternoon are now off. The shops close soon, due to Sunday Trading. Do you have such nonsense where you live? Perhaps you live in a more modern and up to date country than here. Somewhere where you do not have people sleeping in cardboard boxes on the streets and food banks in your super-markets. Your employers may well even pay a decent and sustainable wage to their staff. Your political leaders may even appreciate putting their own country first before conducting dodgy foreign policy initiatives that don’t actually concern them.

Jesus the woman next door has a huge arse, it’s no good my telling her I would like to spank it, as she hates my guts. My feelings towards her are not so amicable either and even less so since that unpleasant dog appeared on the scene. Never mind, there are better things to be occupying my mind. Like what am I going to say to the job centre tomorrow? Oh yes I know, my anxiety is messing me up and I have an intense dislike of crowds and people generally, am awful with employers (Ninety At the last count) Don’t like working set hours or wearing a uniform. All of them true and definitely worth mentioning. I work on my own terms now and for whom I want to work for. Doing the kind of work that I like and want to do. That way I preserve my mental health and feel less inclined to become argumentative and perhaps troublesome.

Talking about mental Health, I have again perhaps been drinking too much, certainly buying too much, which equates to the same behaviour either way. I need to and want to drop the drinking (At least a little bit) And focus more on creativity and getting things done. Things like business cards, website development and a bunch of other things too. As daft as it may sound , decline invitations out and stick to the business of self improvement and creating a business. Doing that, may just improve my situation in the world, as will getting out a bit more and doing some self promotion. Sounds a little nerve wracking, but could be very rewarding and that’s the bit to focus on. Ignoring the negatives and marching on towards ones goals, keeping unpleasant people out of ones life and welcoming pleasant people in. In doing these things we may well achieve something, not quite Nirvana,but something very similar. The sooner I get on and do this, the sooner I can stick two fingers up and leave this wretched place. That last bit, will ultimately be determined by the correct configuration of stars and planets, not by my own actions. As tempting as that course at times may be, it is not the way, not in this life anyway.

J sent me the following a couple of days ago and it is so true as to be shared here;

“An artist must regulate his life.

Here is a time-table of my daily acts. I rise at 7.18; am inspired from 10.23 to 11.47. I lunch at 12.11 and leave the table at 12.14. A healthy ride on horse-back round my domain follows from 1.19 pm to 2.53 pm. Another bout of inspiration from 3.12 to 4.7 pm. From 5 to 6.47 pm various occupations (fencing, reflection, immobility, visits, contemplation, dexterity, natation, etc.)

Dinner is served at 7.16 and finished at 7.20 pm. From 8.9 to 9.59 pm symphonic readings (out loud). I go to bed regularly at 10.37 pm. Once a week (on Tuesdays) I awake with a start at 3.14 am.

My only nourishment consists of food that is white: eggs, sugar, shredded bones, the fat of dead animals, veal, salt, coco-nuts, chicken cooked in white water, mouldy fruit, rice, turnips, sausages in camphor, pastry, cheese (white varieties), cotton salad, and certain kinds of fish (without their skin). I boil my wine and drink it cold mixed with the juice of the Fuschia. I have a good appetite but never talk when eating for fear of strangling myself.

I breathe carefully (a little at a time) and dance very rarely. When walking I hold my ribs and look steadily behind me.

My expression is very serious; when I laugh it is unintentional, and I always apologise very politely.

I sleep with only one eye closed, very profoundly. My bed is round with a hole in it for my head to go through. Every hour a servant takes my temperature and gives me another.”
― Erik Satie