Antisocial

If all were well with the world, this would be a deeply pissed post with letters astray everywhere, and not really much in the way of a thought-train. It’s 2.35am, and I’ve been out drinking (slowly but steadily, although according to the government it’d be seen as a “binge drinking session”) since 2.30pm. To coin a phrase, “oops”.

However, all’s obviously not right with the world. I’m worryingly sober, despite a rather copious amount of alcohol consumed. I wasn’t completely in the mood, and the supposed “send off”, (considering this is my last weekend in Manchester while resident here) while it’s been fun, hasn’t been quite the booze-fuelled chaos it could’ve been.

I don’t know why, but it’s just not clicked yet that I’m moving on. Well, that’s not true – it’s clicked in all the relevant ways, it’s just that I don’t really do “send off”s and the like, same as I don’t really do leaving parties and all that shite.

Yes, there’s a feeling of “Oh, blimey, this is my last official ‘night out’ in the city centre” kind of thing, but I don’t do that all that often anyway. Particularly in the last six months, but more accurately in the last eighteen, I’ve hardly been here of a weekend anyway. “Home” has been four walls within which my stuff resides, and my clothing gets washed and dried. “Home” in my heart has been – well, somewhere else. Where? Pass. But not here.

And now the time to move on is approaching – and doing so at speed. I’m looking forward to it – moving has always been the time when I feel most comfortable, rather than the “putting down roots” phase, although maybe that’s due to happen a bit in ’05.

For now though it’s time for bed, and I’ll write more and think more tomorrow later and see where I go from there. But yes, for now it’s bed, and being worryingly sober about the entire thing…