Posts Tagged ‘pop will eat itself’

This is not true. However, it contains a grain of truth. I think there’s something different about alcoholics and addicts. And, I know we can speak to each other, spot each other, often fuck each other up good and proper styley.

My favourite authors are Derek Raymond, Raymond Chandler, Charles Bukowski… you see what I mean..

But, I digress. I thought I’d do something useful and post some of my favourite alcoholic songs (most of which are songs of pain and suffering rather than enjoyment.) I won’t go into any long-winded explanations, I’ll try to let them speak for themselves.

The first is Wake up, Time to Die! By Pop Will Eat Itself.

And then we have the lovely Replacements and Here Comes a Regular (I have no idea what One Tree Hill is, it seems rather overwrought.)

And here’s the poet laureate… Yes, it’s the Pogues with the Sickbed of Cuchulainn (I’ve drunk in the Euston Tavern).

And, here’s some Vic Chestnutt…

There are more. I’m starting to get tired now as the Mirtazapine hits…

If I get more than one vote, I’ll make this a regular feature.

I’d love to hear of any more, it’s an area I’m very interested in, naturally.

Sleep well sweet princes and princesses.



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I’m hung over again. Not good news.

The pull of the pub proved too strong for me and at 6pm I was in there. I had a lovely chat with the Doge about music, about life. We laughed, we shared, we enjoyed.

And, I came back and had a couple more drinks, with Mag. We laughed, we ended up dancing round the kitchen and singing. (I’m honestly not sure what totals to be writing in my drink diary, but it almost certainly equates to the equivalent of about six pints).I felt so alive, so free, so wonderful.

Still, the fact that I’m here and writing about it is good. Writing is good for me. It’s my natural way of communicating. Without alcohol I’m painfully – and, yes it is painful – shy, but at a keyboard it all seems to come so naturally, so honestly.

Today is the start of the fabled weekend that E and I both know I will struggle with.

When I drink there’s a lot of just sitting around and brooding. I notice the change is small emblematic things that signal my lack of life and energy. I’m more likely to have a bath than a shower. I get up later. I listen to news channels on the radio rather than music. I resent doing anything constructive or useful. I stare at job ads in a fug of useless self-loathing and fear.

So, there it is, the bad and the good.

At some point there are posts to come entitled “All my friends are alcoholics” (which is true up to a point) and “All my heroes are alcoholics” (which is also true up to a point). I do seem to have a particular connection with dark art and literature; pessimistic, dystopian and noir are my entertainments.

This is one of my favourite songs about drinking and one I completely identify with.

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