Saturday
Went to Grans and my Aunt and Uncle from Penclawdd were there watching the Eisteddfod. "Why don't you go into that?" Della asked. "It has to be Welsh language poetry," I replied. "To my shame, Ive only written a few Welsh poems." "Dylan Thomas never won a Chair eithe", Barnett chipped in. True too, we both were destined to never appear in the Eisteddfod. Ive been to them mind you, but not appeared IN them.
The evening was fraught with tension. Mainly from Dad not going out and because I dislike watching television, I froze in my bedroom all night. Dad doesn't watch the same things I do anyway. Mum wants me to bother the doctor about my nervous tension, anxiety and panic attacks but im not going to be pill'd out of my head on doctors orders. On MY orders YES, and when I want a buzz but never through a doc.
Smoked 11 cigarettes. Went to bed 3am.
Zero Alcohol
Sunday
Woke up and took a few Valium. Went to Pen Y Mynydd for sunday roast and decided to stay over for the night. Ann Marie brought Jade over and we (Mum, Stu, Jade and Myself) went to Clydach market, then back to Grans for tea. Jade has gone so busy! She's into everything! So beautiful, proud Uncle here.
In Pen Y Mynydd I drank a bottle of vodka and cans of lager. Must have smoked 12 damned ciggies too, the filthy, rotten things. Went down to Gonk's house later in the evening with Stu. Good laugh. Pissed drunk all night.
Hic!!
1997 Diary of Poet Steven Francis. Larger than Life, wiser than Yoda! This journal features failure and successes. And blood, never forget the blood...
