It’s a beautiful day here in Southern California. I woke at dawn. The huge eucalyptus outside my bedroom window, back-lit by the rising sun, it’s smooth silvery bark and majestic limbs delightful to wake up to.
I made iced coffee. I am going to boil an egg.
Must not forget to eat today. This thin thing is getting tired. I am too thin and my nails are cracking.
Regardless of my dwindling weight I am feeling totally settled again. In my own body. Out of my mad head. Thank God I am no longer waking up in the morning feeling like shit. The morning has always been my favorite time. Renewed, refreshed, full of promise.
I awake every day to the glorious, sun drenched morning here in California. I am a lucky man.
Remind yourself: I am a lucky man. I have lived a life others could only have dreamt about and if it ended tomorrow..well, I would be at peace. That’s all I ever wanted, to die at peace with a smile on my face. Ducks in a row.
Last night was one of those nights when the sun went down and it didn’t get any cooler. I suspect it’s going to be like that all this week. If it becomes unbearable I may just head over to Hollywood and stay there until it cools down. I don’t like watching the dogs panting, it distresses me.
The organic box arrived yesterday from Jennifer. The raw butter, yogurt and milk are all delicious. The vegetables were mainly good except the rather pathetic beats that are small and shrivelled.
The fridge is now full of wonderful things to eat including crab claws from Santa Barbra, fresh pasta, home cured bacon and free range chicken and pork loin.
I am cooking with Ashley today. We are having a lunch for thirty but I suspect more people will arrive. Today has THAT sort of vibe. This is a great house for a party. It always has been.
Ah, finally..there is a light sea breeze washing through the house.
Now I have a date for my operation I really don’t give my balls much thought. I know that this thing is inside me and I know that if I don’t deal with it..well, we all know what will happen.
I can spend hours in this house not really doing anything at all. Just rearranging. This is a good substitute for me being a writer? No, not really but now the love shackles are off I can concentrate on other things. It’s a great start.
It was a terrible madness: enmeshed, co-dependent, destructive, cruel.
I remember writing this: I am never lonely when I am on my own, I am only ever lonely when I am in a relationship. I yearn for the other at the detriment of all other things.
Today I am not lonely. I am capable. I am a good person.
Try saying that out loud!
“Hello, my name is Duncan and I am an alcoholic/addict…and a good person.”
I am a stranger to those I have loved. Let’s keep it that way.