The Law Is An Ass

Dear Dobson,

After much anticipation and anxiety, my day at court finally arrived. I felt sick, nervous at the prospect of seeing The Man after all this time. Despite my desire to be anywhere but the witness care 'suite' (and I use that word very loosely), there was a sensible voice in my head that kept repeating what had happened was fundamentally wrong and this would be my opportunity to voice that belief.

Three and a half hours later, and after many trips to the lavatory, I was informed the case would be adjourned for another six months. The judges were delayed by the morning's case and they do not, ever, work beyond 4 o'clock.

Upset, disappointed, angry... etc. I know you've heard it all before. So given those feelings, plus the absence of my children and SG Guy who was in Europe, I embarked on a three day binge.

I took my finger off the self-destruct button on Sunday afternoon. It was then reality managed to sneak its way in. I wish I'd managed to shut the door in time, but I failed. It's been a quiet week and numb is where things currently feel most comfortable. I'm hoping it's a temporary state of mind, it's not a pleasant place.

Frankie

Hanging Up The Towels

Dear Dobson,

Given that these are stressful times, it was inevitable that my old friend 'Insomnia' would rock up at some point, hence me hanging up the towels and loitering here at 1 o'clock in the morning.  I am so tired, in fact, I'm exhausted.  I've been fighting the lurgy for over a week now with no sign of it abating.  My body is telling me to slow down but it's difficult; I've children, singing rehearsals, gym and a soirée to organise for Saturday night.  My libido is suffering too and I feel terrible for cancelling my tryst with SG Guy tonight, but what's the point if I'm not up to it?  I'm no faker.

In view of my cancellation I considered a wank but lethargy and apathy won the day.  My glass of 14.5% Merlot remains unfinished, the lid is firmly on my 'Berlin XXX' poppers and the batteries in my bunny are on their last (hind) legs.  It's tragic.

Ten days and counting.  Then who knows where I'll be at - a better place hopefully, with some fresh batteries...

Frankie

Round Midnight

Dear Dobson,

The title of this latest instalment is a song I'm currently learning for gigging purposes.  It was suggested to me by someone else, but man...  It's screamingly appropriate right now.

Sarah tells it like it is and no mistaking.  I'm meandering through my days in fierce denial.  The trial is almost two weeks away and I've a feeling that, no matter what the outcome is, it's going to feel shitty. You know it's not how I wanted things to be with The Man.  Nevertheless, it's the way things have gone so a pragmatic and practical approach is required for the time being - if only to get me through the dreaded day itself.

In other news, alcohol is proving to be something of an emotional buffer for me.  I know it's not a healthy way of coping with the situation, but the way I see it, the 'situation' will be over soon.

It hasn't all been doom and gloom though.  I've a nice little earner coming up in the form of a dinner / dance gig.  Although not the most satisfying in creative terms, these 'dos' always prove to be quite lucrative.

And there's more good stuff...  At the weekend I was a willing participant in some gin research and discovered some real corkers.  I think I can safely say that Brockmans, Monkey 47 and Cadenhead's would all be up your straße.  Especially Cadenhead's; it's Scottish and 50% proof.  What's not to like?

I continue to spend wonderful evenings with SG Guy.  He's uncomplicated, generous and has the most sublime touch.  His apartment has become something of a haven for me, a rooftop escape from all the sewage down below.

Time for me to attempt sleep.  These days it tends to be disturbed by anxiety inducing dreams, but I have a feeling things might be a bit easier in a month or so.  Goodnight Dobson.

Frankie