Halcyon Days

Friday evening and I’ve finished school.  I hate this school and I’m just managing to hang in there.  I don’t want to leave but I’ve just been told by a teacher that I can’t take A-Level philosophy because I’m not clever enough.  Who the fuck is she to tell me I’m not clever enough?  Oh well, it’s Friday I don’t need to worry about all that for another few days.  All day everyone’s been asking me “coming down the pub tonight, Sean?”, “Yeah, man, of course”, I reply.  Living for the weekend is the only thing keeping me going at the moment.

A bag of chips on the way home, I don’t really want to eat it, there’s an eighth of skunk burning a hole in my pocket and having something to eat just delays time until I can skin up.  That first pull is magical and the world floats away.  Two more spliffs later and it’s time to go.  I float down to the tube station grabbing a bottle of Becks on the way.  Cotton wool, man, this is the only way to live life.

This is our regular Friday night.  We’re all mostly 16 but the guy doesn’t check I.D.  The pub has a bad reputation but it isn’t really that bad.  It’s mostly full of people that have built up their own mystical reputation of battering everyone and anyone.  Looking around the pub, most aren’t pissed enough yet and are still looking for someone they can start on.  A few pints later and they’ll all be looking for people to hug, they’d have stuck the nut on them a couple of hours earlier.

Someone has collapsed outside.  Someone spiked his Stella with Valium.  Me, Jay and Paul go out to the river and have a spliff.

“Jay you prick, hurry up and skin up, man”.

“I’m skinning up, man, what the fuck is wrong with you, you don’t even know how to skin up, bruv”.

Jay’s brought along some girl that goes to his college, man this bird drives me crazy.  I’ve never been confident with women and I can’t even bring up the courage to look her in the eyes when I speak.  People keep telling me mad stories about her, how some fat geezer fucked her under the bridge last week.  “She’s proper loose, bruv, pure sket, nuff mans have been there, still I’d bang it though”.  Someone said her dad is a nutcase too.  I’m all for that, a bird with a lunatic dad.  Problem is I don’t even have the bollocks to talk to her so all the shit that’s going on in my head is pure fantasy, I’m never, ever going to speak to her.

Back inside the pub everyone is half cut, Come on Eileen is playing on the jukebox, everyone bouncing around.  I’m starting to feel the warm glow of the booze.

Jay is telling me a story about how he’s going to start a business with some geezer I don’t know but I’m supposed to know.  It’s a chore to listen to his business ideas when I’m sober but now I’m encouraging him.  “Yeah, man, go for it, bruv.  Pyramid schemes are the way forward, you can’t lose, I know a geezer that made millions out of one.”  In his head Jay is already buying Porches.  I’m thinking about how much weed Jay can buy when he makes it big from his pyramid scheme.

He fucks off to tell someone else about a completely different business idea.  I love Jay, he talks a lot of bollocks but him and Paul are the only two people I can class as proper friends.

The night is coming to a close, the Irish fella that owns the bar is starting to throw people out.  There’s a big mob outside along with randoms from the estate next to the pub looking for people to rob.  For me Jay and Paul it’s back to mine to smoke weed and drink Lambrini.  Every week I buy two bottles of Lambrini on the way home and every week it makes me sick.

We sit there drinking the sickly sweet fizzy wine, smoking weed arguing about some nonsense that we’ll never think of again.  Occasionally we get lost in the music.   This is pure bliss, man.  Life is easy, all we need is weed, booze and Sky.  There’s no caveats to this kind of life, yeah we need to grow up at some point but that’s years away.  For now we’re just living for the moment, and the moment is well and truly fucked.

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2 thoughts on “Halcyon Days

  1. I relate to this post from the time when I was using cocaine and drinking 22 hours a day, I was even more self-destructive than you I actually enjoyed the fact that I was destroying myself. I was also rampantly bulimic and made myself sick 3 times a day and the doctors said every time I did that I could have a fatal heart attack. But because my mother was in a terrible state after multiple strokes I thought I wanted to die. Some of the things I got up to on cocaine were quite funny – being seduced by a (female) teenage stripper in Jamaica who’d killed someone the week before and then stole my car and walking through Heathrow caked in Colombia’s most notorious condiment. I missed virtually every plane, train, appointment I had my dad said I was an “eternal teenager.” I don’t regret the things I’ve done as it’s given me material to write about but I didn’t actually start to grow up until after I got clean and had a lot of therapy. It’s great being an adult for the first time in my life I am happier and more peaceful than I have ever been. As you are interested in philosophy, I hope you grow up some day and find more stimulating ways of passing your time that use your intellect more.

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    • I’ve actually been clean for over nine years. I was far, far more destructive than portrayed in this post. I was given a year to live at 22 and almost did die at 23. In this post I was trying to show that there was a time when it was a lot more innocent.

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