Mindfulness. It’s a word that privileged white women probably drop in your Facebook feed. I have been reading books about Buddhism and mindfulness, and one of my all time favourite bloggers/podcasters Mike Cernovich has touched on mindfulness a fair bit. I am aware that mindfulness, in the context of wholly being in the present moment and not worrying about shit, would be the answer to my prayers. It would stomp out my human anxieties and low consciousness concerns. But I have been too lazy to be mindful. Too lazy to do nothing, basically. But now I’m drunk, and it’s kind of working. I am just chilling out on the deck at my parents’ place, watching some David Attenborough documentary after 3 glasses of fine, Australian shiraz and a Johnny red. I am able to actively switch off the part of my brain that idealises things, and just be. It turns out alcohol consumption is directly proportionate to mindfulness. Directly proportionate to one’s ability to exist in the present moment. Feel their ass on the cushion. Their feet on the ground. Their back against whatever the fuck their back is up against. “The breath is our anchor in the present” is what some guy said. Who? Lodro Rinzler. Maybe. I’ve read a lot of weird books.