Listening to Tchaikovsky. His music is like no other. Just finished a book by Kahlil Gibran called The Broken Wings which really moved me.
I’m not a writer and don’t pretend to be. But I do love writing. Especially about myself and my life. Every time I try to write something profound about something else, after awhile I read it and it always makes me want to crawl into a hole and suffocate.
I’m boiling some eggs. Drinking tea. It’s cold and snowy in Helsinki where I live. At noon I’m going to my first AA meeting in a year (although I’m still not really convinced that the system is for me or whether there even is such a thing as an alcoholic or if it is just another meaningless words we have invented to cover something much deeper). The demons are taking control again. I bailed out last time. That was a year ago when I was living in Dublin, Ireland. Everything went to pieces then. Now, my life is not in pieces but I feel it will be if I feed the monster who lives inside me. This year it’s been on/off, up/down. I quit drinking and it’s always longer and longer. However, every time I’m back on it, I drink heavier and heavier. Perhaps i’ve been lucky until now to always get back on my feet. Maybe I won’t be so lucky the next time around.
June, if you’re reading. This blog is really an excuse to connect with you. Sometimes it’s easier to do it this way, you know. I doubt, I’ll be sharing this stuff with anybody else for now anyway.
There is is this spiritual bond that connects me and June. It’s like we’ve been separated a long time ago and we are two lost souls trying to find one another, trying to become whole again. Sometimes it’s pure agony. But it also an agony I cannot or do not know how to live without.