Friday, November 12, 1982
After writing last night’s entry I didn’t go to bed as I'd planned to do, but ended up instead in Barry’s room with Lindsey and Stu; we bought a gramme of oil between us, more as a favour to Barry than anything else. It had a distinct effect on my mind, a feeling of a loss of balance, an incredible lightness inside my head as though it was off the ground somehow, almost like being dizzy but not nauseous at all. Then I felt very sleepy and finally went to bed.
Clean, cold and crisp today. Barry and I went out to buy food and to the bank and got back to the kitchen to find his RCP friend Carl down from London: he seemed delighted that there were so many of us going to the demo.’ We're going up there by train, which will cost more than the £2 we’d originally planned for.
More oil later and the same headless feeling as before, but really vivid.
I’m reading the The Education of Henry Adams at the moment which is quite interesting: “[H]e never got to the point of playing the game [of life] at all; he lost himself in the study of it, watching the errors of the players; but this is the only interest in the story, which otherwise has no moral and little incident . . .” I see myself in this not with pride but with a kind of resignation, for I believe it's what I'm destined to do: “passion for companionship – antipathy to society.”