Days sober: 23

This morning’s appointment with my GP was uneventful. MRI scan was normal, bloods were normal, lithium level was 0.6. My liver function result was a bit messed up but I told Doc I’ve quit drinking so he wasn’t too worried. Then I told him that my sweats and shakes are still ruining my life, then I had a little cry, and then he signed me off as “unfit for employment” for another 4 months. Blahhhh, whatever.

I’ve spent all day writing for the theme ‘colour.’ My instruction for this piece is, ‘a poem of any length on whatever colour means to you,’ and the deadline is Friday. And really, it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I went through my portfolio, notebooks and archives and picked out what I believe to be the best work that I’ve done on colour. And there’s loads of it – I enjoy writing about colour, it can intensify even the dullest, most mundane imagery. And because of the way that colours are associated with mood I am inevitably drawn to use them to identify and separate areas of my own mental health.


I wear black clothing every day. Bright, sunshine yellow is actually my favourite colour, and I would paint my walls a very pale yellow if I actually had my own walls to paint. Red nails and red lips will always be a winning combination. White evokes too many images for me to write down. I need colour for my work. I mean, my last post was about Pink Clouds, another recent post was about orange juice, another on a hallucinated grey/red vortex, and another was about how sepia-tinted London looks much nicer than gritty, grey London. And when I paint, I decide on the colour palette first before I even know what it is that I’m going to paint.

Colour is everywhere in life, and colour is everywhere in my work. But how do I do it justice?

I have written so much about various shades of black that it could be compiled and published as it’s own magazine. I also write a lot about red, about blood. So I’m thinking to abandon all other colours and focus on black and/or red. But then my dad phoned me and confused me even more because I said that “to most people, red means love,” and he said that people see red when they’re angry – and love and anger are very close. But I wasn’t initially thinking about anger at all, I was thinking about blood – AHHH! See, it’s complicated.

Fuck, my brain is frazzled, I’ve spent 8 hours working and shall continue tomorrow.
But for now: bath, book, bed. Bonne soirée xx



  1. I’m glad you are creating and staying sober. It is making me very happy (and proud of and excited for you) way over here in Missouri. <3

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