Tonight, I have had a couple of bottles of lager. While under the influence of, I simultaneously found two things that I didn't know I had.
One was an unsmoked cigarette butt. The stub of a Lambert and Butler that I'd used most of the tobacco from in a joint at some point. Probably months ago. I used to be a dedicated pipe-head, but recently, I've found that joints suit me better.
The other was a complete strip of 12 NRT chewing gum.
I chose the chewie. I still have the option of smoking the stub.The immediate choice was between the visceral effects of nicotine, absorbed through the digestive tract, and the visceral effects of nicotine, absorbed through the alveoli.
Working back from that point in time, I am anyway in something of a state.
Physically, I'm in a state for a couple of reasons. Most immediately, I didn't go to bed last night. I've now been awake for about 32 hours. For the last couple of days, I've been getting sensations in my abdomen (pain would be too strong a word) telling me that it's all downhill from here.
Well, I have been drinking fairly heavily up until about a week ago. Right now, escapism clashes fundamentally with the inevitable results of escapism.
One day, my past will kill me. My present doesn't like the fact, and perversely tries to ensure that my past will kill me.
We are the sum of our parts. When the weakest essential bit stops working, I do too. Forever.
Rationally, I should not be drinking tonight, or ever again. If alcohol is a depressant, not drinking should make me feel better.
It doesn't. It just makes me horribly aware of what the next few years hold. At the same time, I'd like to live until I'm 80. At the moment I eonfer if I'll make 50.
So what will kill me? My lungs? My liver? (or associated sub-systems of lungs or liver)
A minor but significant candidate is my diet (vegetarian, but high in fat and processed junk) And my lifestyle (sedentary job say in car all day, sedentary hobby, sat in red leather ikea chair when not sat in car) - So heart attack or stroke, etc.
It never goes away.
A couple of months ago, I watched a programme on the telly called "8 out of 10 cats". A panel game where celebrity guests have to try to guess the outcome of surveys. It stayed in my mind because the question asked was "What do people most fear?"
The top answer, above flying, spiders, and everything, was "growing old".
So I'm certainly not alone.
I've actually been thinking about an altogether more optimistic post about how really, I've been one of the luckiest people alive.
But enough for now. I have a bottle to finish.