Day Three hundred and fifty three - Closing time

I know what I'm going to write about, but I'm not sure if I know exactly how to write it or even how to structure it. Because I can say it began yesterday, but no, it started in November. But let's begin with yesterday. I woke up with a line in my head, I knew it by heart, but somehow I couldn't remember where it was from. So, google being my friend, it just so happened that the line in question is from 'Afterhours', a song by Swedish electronic band Covenant. Said song comes from their album 'United States of Mind', a record that was living rent free inside my head some twenty something years ago, and which proved to be highly influential for me - the title was the direct inspiration for the naming of my first blog. 

The line from that songs goes like this : 'I have devils on my mind and the hour's getting late', and these past couple of months I feel I've been losing my fight against my own inner demons. Case in point : yesterday I went out to do some shopping, and I did something I've never done before in my life, ever. And I can't even explain why I did it, it makes no sense to me, but I ended up buying a bottle of whisky. Which is something I've never been a fan of, really, though I have drunk bourbon on occasion. But whisky, man, I think I can count by how many fingers I have in one hand the amount of times I drank whisky. So what madness drove me to do it? There was a devil on my shoulder, you see. The same devil that told me a couple of months ago that since I was on the right track, that I was ready to try and do things normal people do, the same devil that told me that one drink wouldn't hurt, the same devil that said that I should punish myself for having been so incredibly stupid. I knew that somewhere down the line I would be tested. And I always feared I would fail. I'm not strong, I'm not. So much of the strength I once had has waned, and I'm on a bad path again. 

My initial thought was that I was buying the damned thing, and what with me not being a whisky enjoyer, I'd only have a wee dram every now and again. But that devil, man, that devil... that devil egged me on until I drank the whole thing, and the worst part was that by the end I really didn't feel that tipsy. I felt so lucid that I began thinking about this post yesterday. And I felt good - and I loved and I hated that feeling at the same time. The devil on my shoulder told me I could do this. I could handle it. That maybe I could even handle one more bottle. Maybe I could move on to heavier things. Maybe I could do this on the regular. And I slapped that devil, shut him up, and went to bed. And though it whispers still in my ear, I can't listen to it, not anymore. I know where that path leads. And if I go down that path, I'm going to die. And I don't want that, I really don't. Again, there are lessons here. And I have to learn from them, and continue on. Many changes are afoot, and I can't look back, I can't. How does that old song go? Problems with the booze, nothing left to lose.

[This is the playlist for August.]