Christine McVie:
After Stevie's little incident a few weeks ago things seem to have calmed down since then with her. I think she's finally accepted the fact that she's a witch. I feel terrible with her having all this pressure on her; I know how I felt when I first found out; she must be going through a lot of stress and I'm just making it worse. We haven't spoken very much since then. I've had her over once or twice to continue helping her control her arsenic abilities but aside from that she seems very quiet. I'm not sure if there's something going on at home or not but I know that things in my house aren't going too well. I thought it was bad before with John and I not talking very much, but yelling constantly and never shutting up is even worse. Sometimes it's relieving to be able to get everything off my chest and just say it all to his face instead of keeping it all in my head but I feel so miserable afterward. His drinking has got even worse. I can't remember the last night he's come home sober either from the studio or from the weekends. We haven't spent time together since the last time we made-up. I'm hoping that he'll slow down with the drinking otherwise I'm going to need to talk to him and that'll just be another headache; it's not like he'll listen to me. Sometimes I just wish it would all go away; that I could just disappear off into a parallel universe for a few days and not have to worry about the album and my marriage and all the nonsense that comes with being a witch. I could use a pair of ruby slippers right now.
Last night was a mess. We finished mixing the album yesterday so everyone went out for a few drinks and when I say 'a few' I mean 'as many as they can to be able to walk to the car'. Stevie and I are always the ones driving now. I never enjoy myself when the band goes out anymore and I can tell Stevie's feeling the same way. Mick pulled out the coke yesterday in the studio for the first time in a while and Stevie's the only one who passed. I admire her for being able to stand up to the men; it's not that I can't, I just try not to care. A little blow won't hurt, I suppose. It wasn't just the blow that had them mad before we got to the bar, it was the handful of blunts that were also passed around. By the time it was midnight John and Mick were out of their minds and Lindsey was on his way there. That's when Stevie decided to call it a night and took Lindsey home. I brought up the idea of John and I leaving a few times but he just brushed it off until 1:00 a.m. rolled around and I couldn't stand seeing him drink anymore. I practically had to drag his ass out of the bar and to the car and then I had to pretend I understood a thing he was saying on the way home. As usual; I helped him out of the car, into the house and upstairs to the bed. I didn't even bother trying to dress him, I just let him sleep the way he was. I wasn't really in the mood to play the caring wife. He'd put me through hell that night. He sat and talked to the guys for hours while Stevie and I watched them all get drunk and check out other woman. I reprimanded John the first couple times I saw him sneak a few peaks at the waitress but farther into the night I realized he either didn't care anymore or was too drunk to even remember I had told him ten times before to keep his eyes in his head or he'd be losing them. I don't know how much longer I can put up with it all until I just need a break. I don't know what exactly a break would be, but I just know it's getting too much to handle.
Our time in the studio has finally ended and I'm a little relieved; all five of us in the same room for hours one end,everyday, for that long is like a death threat, however its only been a few days now and I'm already missing everyone. John and I haven't really been arguing but rather ignoring each other. Stevie's supposed to come over tomorrow night so I can teach her a bit more, which is good; aside from Stevie, I don't have any other female friends in the business aside from the women who work at the studio or for the record company. It'll give me a chance to complain to someone about my marriage. I hear John come in the front door as I'm finishing the dishes. I take off my apron and hang it on the hook waiting for the door to slam shut either proving he's drunk or in another rage. I hear the door slam and a few minutes later I hear feet staggering up the stairs; just as I'd thought, he was drunk again. At this point it didn't bother me anymore, as long as he wasn't going to take it out on me or our house then it was fine with me. I poured myself a glass of champagne and sat down in the living room and tuned in to Jeopardy on the telly.
