Constant chatter

Two nights running I’ve struggled get this out. Usually I just get loosely to the end of the day, shit out 500 words and roll over. Sometimes I get the bit between my teeth and run. Sometimes I munch a thought or neigh out a little story. And sometimes I meander aimlessly through fields of ideas until I fall asleep standing up from booze.

Now I’m taking a bit of time off that booze, so I’m thinking too much. Which always happens when I’m on my own and sober. I can’t shut my head up. Constant chatter.

So yesterday and today I wrote multiple drafts and then deleted them. Why? Because I didn’t like them. They were probably fine, but when I get like this I get very uncompromising with myself. Pickle makes a difference. She needs food or warmth or play and can pull me out of my head. But right now she’s asleep on my feet again. It’s past 1am. Whatever crap I come up with this time it’s final or I’ll never get to sleep. I’d better not admit that it was me that ate your goldfish.

Today I’ve been plying my trade, in that I went for an audition. But my attitude towards it has been, somehow, a little more serious than usual. It was just a commercial casting. Nothing to write home about. Although the buyout is astronomical, and I know I could play the part. I’m aware of the change in my circumstances such a job could bring. I’m ready for that change, and just as I’m able to intellectually feel happy for someone else getting that call I reckon it’s about time it was me again. I unashamedly want that job. Because I unashamedly want that buyout.

My attitude in general has been subtly shifting of late though. Yes, I love my work. That love has caused me to say yes to things in the past that have swallowed time and cost me money. Recently there’s been a shift in me. I need to be properly compensated for my time either monetarily or artistically. I’ve put a lot of time in, seen a lot of beautiful places, done a lot of crazy random stuff. That’s not about to stop, but suddenly I’m not putting myself imaginatively out of the running for the things I really want to do, or the ones that will pay big money.

I went to a therapist for a while until I couldn’t afford it any more. She said “It seems to me that you’re doing a thing where you say “If I can’t have exactly what I want then I’ll have nothing.” I think to a large extent she was right, with the added stricture that I was running interference on what I wanted as well, just to make sure I didn’t get it. Brian is very aware that the inside of my head hates me. His wisdom, combined with the Buddhism I’ve recently embraced, have helped start to derail that. It’s been a while, but I feel new minted somehow, despite the headchatter tonight.

So yeah. I want things. Nice things. For myself as well as those around me. And I am allowed to have them. Even though I’ve already got some nice things I am allowed to have some more as long as I’m not a dick about it.

I’m going to try not to think about this gig now I’ve vented. You have to forget auditions like that once they’re done.¬† I mean, I bought a euromillions ticket and I’m not fretting about that. I might be worth 169 million quid! If I am, none of you will ever need to worry about money again. Hell yeah.

This is Nicole and I, post meeting. We are both going to be doing this gig together, when we get the call. I’ll have to come back from selecting which island to buy with my lottery windfall.



Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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