Confessions of an alcohol user...

When I was much younger I used to drink quite often and quite heavily. It was young dumb escapism. I felt somehow free of some of the distractions of life and I could think more clearly (or, at least, more honestly). As the years went by it turned into a little more (or less, depending on your view). I became angry when I drank. I felt a rage I could not define, a hidden anger that I could never understand, only tap into. Up until that one night I never let it get the best of me, but I did see the smoke on the horizon. Unfortunately one night it did get the best of me. For no good reason I kicked the crap out of some poor guys yellow Porsche (okay he probably wasn’t poor if he had a Porsche) denting all of the doors, trunk, hood and any other part I could get a strike on. I’ve been in Martial Arts and played football (Soccer) for years so when I say kick, I really mean it. Now, thankfully, it wasn’t that bad. No one was physically hurt and it was only the property of someone who could afford it (or his insurance, anyway). Don’t misunderstand, I still feel terrible. What if it was something someone could not easily replace, or worse, a person or even someone I had cared about! I do appreciate the fact that it was only one night that it got the best of me. That was the last drink I had for about six months. Thankfully I have never felt a need to drink, it never felt like a crutch or an addiction. Even after that (for a while, anyway), I was pretty cautious about how much I drank. As the years went by I never saw that rage return and my drinking (as infrequently as it is being a single parent now) has returned to its original state (minus the frequency, of course); escapism and a means to clear my mind of unwanted clutter. No straight edge here, I’m a drug user and proud of it. Some of my favorite times and conversations I’ve had were when I was drunk (but not ridiculously so), a certain St. Patrick’s Day (maybe a little too drunk, but fun) comes to mind and also my 38th birthday. I was drunk for most of it (again not ridiculously so) and it ended with some great (if fairly incoherent) conversation (see: Logic versus Irrationality). Does this seem sad? I think to some of my conservative views it does (thankfully I’m undergoing shock therapy to permanently damage my Coulter gland). When I drink I am able to focus on creative things much more sharply. My mind becomes alive with possibilities that I did not see before. Is it the alcohol? Well, it does clear away some clutter for creative purposes, so I guess that’s a yes. Imagine if I did anything harder. When I was at Karl’s house the other week (drinking), his woman was about and Karl made the proclamation to her that alcohol is the morning cup of coffee to a writer. Wow! He defined why I do like to drink in one short sentence. Damn I love that man!