So happy in the morning, then a day full of idiot, animal joy.

The sun hits the terrace just right for my purposes, and I set down a beach towel so it follows the line of my shadow, fold up a smaller towel as a pillow, then lay down, a white sarong over my head. A timer set for 10 minutes, then I turn over, all the while listening to a book about paleobotany and tripping out in the Mesozoic, feeling the old life within.

Next round the timer's set for 5 minutes, then I've done enough damage for the day and chill inside with some freshly squeezed lime juice, soda water from the fridge, a handful of ice and stainless steel straw, that white sarong around my waist showing off the pink on brown so I look a little healthier, teeth and eyes a little whiter, the possibility of attraction slightly raised.

This is my summer vacation. 

My chosen subject in this life was how to live when you are poor.

My alcohol and drug use were driven by two things – the need to celebrate and the need to forget.

I'm eating lunch on the terrace, Thai fried rice from scraps – two-day-old fridge rice, a little chopped leek, red pepper, garlic and ginger, some broccoli head and stem, half a carrot, a few bean sprouts and an egg, all done in coconut oil in a hot wok over gas and splashed with fish and soy sauces, some ground bird's eye chili stirred through – and realize it's been years since I wanted to die.

I realized late that the actions you take impact the life you lead, and that a person with a better life would probably have been working on this from the start, perhaps even focused on education as a child, in terms of actually learning things and not just getting through the classes intact and ignored, another day safely spent idle and unbullied, dreaming of escaping from timetables, England, uniforms and orders.

But even then, with my lack of knowledge, drive and native charm, I escaped and led a life of dreams.

All of which seems unreal now, on the other side of decades.

One beer in, on a day of coffee and starvation, outside with music and a book.

Forget the vain longing for greatness, the desire for broad dominion.

This. Is. It.

Another summer, and with it the understanding spring has gone, autumn looming, winter death, but for now we'll bake in long hot days, and live as if forever.

The first third of my life was getting deeper into a labyrinth, and the second third finding a way out.

Now I like to think I'm free, but then, out of nowhere, a memory of the early and mid-horror will return, and with it the darkness, loss, shame and regret.

Meanwhile, outside, above the clouds, the sun and stars are shining.

By the main account I wasted my life.

But the truth is, I enjoyed it.