As I wrote down there in that other post, I’m a bit not-right in the head, and feel sad for no reason. That’s the best way to describe depression, I think. If your puppy dies or a robot from the future comes back to kill your 13 year old son to prevent him from participating in a resistance against the takeover of Earth by the robots, then you probably have the right to be a bit down. But I have no excuse.

This week saw a 4 week check-up with the doctor. I take a pill every morning and that cheers me up. I call them happy pills. My dad isn’t amused by it.

The pills are cool. They make me wake up and feel like “yeah, might as well do something today”, rather than “ah, fuck, gotta do something”. They’re a calming influence, make everything seem alright, rather than shit. Cos really, things could be far worse. I understand that on a logical level, but inside I, for some reason, default to “this is rubbish”.

These just dull things. I don’t get as fed up with petty things, which explains the lightening of blogging, but at the same time, it’s difficult to get REALLY excited. Apart from the new series of Curb Your Enthusiasm, or really big tits.

I like my doctor. He asked about side effects. If you’re not interested in my penis, or you’re my mother, please don’t read this bit. You’re still reading, aren’t you mum? I’m warning you. The pills mean that the, um, rocket is ready for lift-off, but there’s no sticky blast off. I used proper words for the doctor. But couldn’t resist adding “but the ladies love it”. He laughed. I like that. He then told me a weird anecdote about the adult entertainment industry mixing anti-depressants with Viagra. That’s a sterling dedication to your work.

He replied “sounds like you need to get out and have more practice.” Doctor prescribed sex. I could have kissed him, if it wouldn’t lead to an embarrassing situation where he’s desperately trying to suck me off before the next appointment and I can’t finish for him. Anyway.

I’ve stopped drinking, too. 5 weeks without alcohol. It’s weird going from drinking every day – the only times I didn’t go into work with a hangover were the days I was still pissed – to turning up somewhat fresh every morning. I can’t remember ever going into pubs sober and leaving sober, either. Obviously I’m witty, charming and hilarious when I’m drunk, but nobody else is. I seriously hope I don’t turn into some militant anti-drinking type, but absolutely everyone is a knob when they’re drunk. Even you. Especially you.

Another month of pills now, and then back to the docs for him to tell me more things he knows about the porn industry and to vaguely prod me about my private life. It’s fun being brutally honest with someone you know has to be nice to you in return. Thanks doc.