"how are you doing at college?"
"how is that job hunting going?"
"have you got anything planned for the future?"
OK, So I’m Doing Something About My Drinking Problem
It’s 1 AM on a Saturday and I’m sober. I definitely don’t want to be, but I am. Sobriety at this hour is completely alien to me, as bizarre as the idea of being drunk at 8 AM, which is something, I shit you not, I’ve never done—despite the fact that everyone and my mother now sees me as the world’s largest lush.
I’m sober tonight because I wasn’t last night. Last night, I was shitfaced. My excuse? It was someone else’s birthday. A cavalcade of pals at the party I attended complimented me on the piece I recently wrote about my drinking problem, raising their glasses to meet mine. I accepted their kind words with the only grace I could muster in my highly altered, bleary-eyed state. I drank enough to brag about my junior high wrestling career. (I received a bronze medal for placing third in the state, but only because two other girls were in my weight class.) I drank more than enough.
I woke up at 3 PM today, ruined for the world, just like old times. I allowed myself to get fucked up because I did so in the context of a social gathering—my new rule is to never drink alone. But when surrounded by other warm-blooded mammals, I have permission to knock down a can (or eight) of shitty American macrobrew. Telling myself I can’t drink alone only means I stay up as late as humanly possible, imbibing in the presence of others. My new rule, as rules go, is fairly useless.
Really enjoyed reading this article. I’m far from an alcoholic, but I’ve definitely allowed my hypochondriac brain to think I might be dependent.
Just interesting to hear another perspective.
"the weather seems ruff today doesnt it Spot haha?"
"dont patronize me Greg"
James Dean photographed by Roy Schatt in New York City, 1954.