I was sitting in someone’s living room. There were 3 of us on a large leather sofa. We were watching a video of ‘Drugstore Cowboy’. I hadn’t seen it before but everyone else kept nudging each other in relation to parts which they knew were coming up next. I was drinking Martini straight from the bottle. No one else was drinking anything stronger than tea. “William Burroughs is coming up soon,” said the man sitting next to me. He was tall and wearing black clothes. His girlfriend was sitting in between us. My friend Charlie was cross-legged on the floor playing with the wire of the telephone. He was talking to his girlfriend. I took another drink. We were in Sheffield. I had been ringing Charlie from a phone-box, crying. He had told me to come down and stay at his house for a while, so I got on a bus and, 6 hours later, I was there. The first night we had gone out to a club. We danced and drank and had a good time. The second night (the ‘Drugstore Cowboy’ night) was supposed to be a quiet night in, but I had got some alcohol anyway. Everyone else (except Charlie) were smoking dope, so I reasoned it was similarly okay for me to drink. Actually, I don’t even believe I had as much awareness as that. I believe it never occurred to me that I was perhaps being anti-social by guzzling Martini like that. The next thing I  knew, everyone was going up to bed. I was sleeping on the sofa, but I felt uncomfortable as soon as I switched off the TV. The room looked frightening in the dark and I couldn’t even hear any comforting noises from the street outside. I felt disconnected from the real world. I felt uneasy. I switched the TV back on and watched some American chat show about teenage crime. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke it was getting light outside but no one was around. I looked at the clock – 6.15am. I switched off the TV and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Then I returned to the sofa and tried to get a bit more sleep. I was glad it was daylight.