Packing up before moving house tomorrow. Symbolically leaving my corkscrew. Should probably throw away all these condoms too since, without alcohol, I'll probably never have sex again.
Wrung out. The first week in rehab has been incredible but everyday people talk about awful things they did when drinking or taking drugs, and each time it brings up memories of my own I had thought I had forgotten.
Flash to being on the floor of a train, somehow under a table of four strange men. Not sure if I was being sick.
Flash to being in a small town in Spain late at night knocking on random house doors trying to find what I thought was a nightclub that I thought people in the bar had told me about even though we did not speak the same language.
In London crying on pavements and ringing on buzzers in the middle of the night, unwanted. On The Island, lying underneath a cash machine. In Edinburgh, waking with someone in my bed who hadn't been there when I passed out. I wish none of it had happened.
INFINITE JEST: Pages 109-119. Can't help but compare the Tennis Academy to my treatment centre, a lot of similarities: "'The point,' says Hal softly, 'is that it's not about the physical anymore, men. The physical stuff's just pro forma. It's the heads they're working on here, boys. Day and year in and out. A whole program.'"
The question is: Am I being indoctrinated into the methods of the 12-Step programme, or am I beginning to see everything though the prism of Infinite Jest?
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