Personal attempts to relate to the divine seem to often be about controlling the sensual streak.  As a writer, with the writer's need for time on one's hands, you feel led astray.  Too much wine, too much time with drinkers and restaurant people, time that could have been spent more profitably.  (Merriweather Lewis has a similar line, touching on all that in his journals.)  Too much time postponing life and decisions.  I get home after work, and I don't want any more wine, and yet I do.  I want that last buzz of comfort, that last liberation of lyrical excitement and song, uninhibited creativity after the trap of the week.  Why the heck should I have to endure that shitty job and the shitty life that comes with it, all because I wanted to be a writer, vaguely academic.  Why should I have to be the hod carrier?  What's wrong with me and my personality?  Is it all because I drink, thus the continuously fed cycle of restaurant work and wine?  What if I just quit, touched not a drop?  I'd certainly have to get rid of the job, and yeah, maybe I need to, because in a way I really don't care, beyond the distinction between undrinkable Trader Joe's crappy Spanish red and something palatable...

It's all been like a bad friend, who bullies you.  You never figured out what to do as an adult.  Things scared you away, or you came into life a bit out of sorts, sore, feeling like Hamlet.  Everything you might talk yourself into you can talk yourself out of.

There are people in life.  You never meant to hurt them, never meant to show them what appeared as a lack of affection, out of your own insecurities, your own readings of things when you needed input.  You didn't realize you hurt people, because it was never an intention.  Again, you got caught up in sensuality, in seeking relaxation and relief, not meeting the issues head on, for which of course you will be sorry for in many ways.

The quick fix, the quick look at the phone, more kicks for the sensual person trying to be focussed and in touch with divine support and comfort.