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Axes Ground, While You Wait

Waking up this morning with little more than a headache after a long night of drinking beer after beer made me feel a lot better. The powers of recuperation which have borne me through the peaks and valleys on life's road have yet to abandon me, and that's a Good Thing (TM).
Of course, powers of recuperation are just one part of the process of healing. Time, too, plays a role. Healing, emotionally or physically, is one of those things in life that, being stubborn and sometimes impatient, really angers me, simply because it has to happen at its own pace. There are things you can do attempt to speed the process, like taking painkillers, or occupying your mind with many things. Sometimes they work better than others, and I've been unable to put a finger on exactly what makes a difference.
In my case, last night, I chose the time-honored tradition of the 'bender', or as I prefer to call it, 'drinking with anger'. If I took to this course more than once or twice a year, I'd worry, but there are times when, for one reason or another, you have to tranquilize your mind. I was in the company of a long-time friend and various other kindly folk, because drinking with anger by yourself is a recipe for Evil Stew.
My life is pretty decent, but there are some glaring problems. For some reason, I'm still not completely over a relationship which ended exactly five months ago (St Patrick's Day). There is also a big money problem (I don't have any), and more or less all of the time I feel alone in the world. For as long as I can remember, I can remember loneliness. It's always there, whether I'm with friends, lovers, enemies, coworkers, or entirely alone. But on the whole, I love my life, and that's important.
It's hard to define exactly why I had the urge to drink with anger last night. My friend was game as well, but I must confess that there was a strange distribution of tensions and emotions in play, and that situation, before I succumbed to alcohol-enhanced exhaustion, kept me far shy of numb in the mind, which was too bad in a way, in a way, better. I've never been good at turning the brain off and this failure, if I choose to name it so, is typical.
Still, it is too bad when old friends, for whatever reason, rub each other wrong, although it's nothing cataclysmic by any stretch. I wonder if he's having fun doing whatever it is he ends up doing today?
On another note, I went to a bar last night (one across the street from where I work), carrying a notebook. Women commented on it. Maybe I'm on to something...or just on something. I tell people that I'm happy being single, and that really is true. They doubt my sincerity because I'm always talking about women, and flirting with women, but I'm actually happy to be able to flirt with anyone I choose without penalty. Not that I wouldn't be devoted to a putative girlfriend, but I do enjoying flirting...a lot.

I could go on, but I won't.