Saturday, February 25, 2006

The tremendous fact for every one of us is that we have discovered a common solution

Day 8 of sobriety, and it is officially no longer interesting. It blows, truly. The physical part is nice. We aren't a shaking, stinking, shitting drunk. Just a brooding, recovering one. We feel better. We look better, we think, although none of the women at the bars we went to tonight paid us any mind whatsoever. Sitting at the bar drinking Sprites and Ginger Ales, tapping your toes to the DJ, makes you feel like a fucking grade-A chump. People are around you, swirling, having a great time, looking stupid and happy and full of piss and vinegar and taking pictures of their joy and there you sit, full of your dull, silent mourning, boring your roommate to tears. Nothing could be less interesting than you. And now we are home, listening to George Noory talk with some crackpot about objects on the other side of the sun and how the Russians have already conquered Venus and large triangular shaped military cargo craft in the skies over Washington DC filled with whites and greys and the corpses of Walt Disney and Burl Ives. There is a lit cigarette and a glass of Diet 7-Up sitting on the coffee table. Signs of life. We are passing time until we can take the pills to go to sleep.

Your correspondents know it is stupid to go out to bars on a Friday night. Spare us the lecture. Useless temptations abound, true true. Turn on your TV, jack. It's all there. You might as well stare it in the face. We are bound to defeat the alcohol monster in our own way. Tonight we sat and watched the bartender at Club Foot make drink after drink. Everything we have ever loved: vodka and tonic, Maker's neat, Jameson on the rocks, PBR, Jack and Coke, even a martini. We honestly weren't tempted even once. We haven't figured it out yet, how exactly we are going to do this, in the long run. Maybe AA, maybe not. AA kind of freaks us out. We are still not down with giving ourselves to a higher power, no matter how much of the blue book we have read and how much we have prayed and hoped. We think we'll keep going to meetings to hear stories and for the sake of maintenance, but many of the steps seem pointless to us. For instance, we bear no real resentment towards anyone, apart from our own weakness. We feel like we've haven't apologized to everyone we need to, and that lingers in the backs of our minds. Maybe we'll try some James Frey type hardcore shit, maybe not. After all, he did turn out to be a lying douchebag.

Maybe a year or two from now we'll have the strength to be a normal social drinker like so many others, and maybe not. We don't have any goals, honestly, other than one day at a time. We could go into deeper discussions regarding God, our responsibility to ourselves and our friends, etc. but we are going to save our breath for another day. Another day at a time. Until then, you are going to have to read these pathetic ramblings and hope our mood improves and our sense of humor rebounds. Or not. Statcounter numbers are dropping like the President's approval rating. Not that we blame any of you. Anyway, we are going to listen to the new Cat Power now, or maybe Lil' Wayne. We bought some new records to treat ourselves today, even though our bank account is tapped, and we just spent 185 bucks (!!) on meds this afternoon. Hey, we could have bought 750 ML of Gordon's instead.




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7 comments:

margaret said...

huge props on the sobriety, really. even strangers are proud. i only wish my friends, the drunks of detroit, would follow the same courageous suit.

mairead said...

dude. i vote you push the daemons into the creation of An Image. buy yrself a slouchy coat, put some grenadine into a hip-holster, and be That Mysterious Guy. you might be lying, but you will not be a douchebag. chicks will follow. for reals. ((ps. i salute you))

j said...

Friend,

I think you need to put equal distance into your sobreity as you did your drinking, same hardness and same resolute desperation, before you decide it is not for you. People are bars are stupid fuxx, oblivious to, and there is only so much envy I can conjur for that --you can make something of it, do something bigger, or you can be a Rainbo regular, an Eric Chaliff from here to eternity and everyone that loves you will squirm as you squander yr creativity and fire and succumb to bottles.

PS> Drunks are much more boring than sober people. Ask aroound. Take notice. It just when you are drunk, when everyone is drunk, nothing actually matters, because we are not actually present for any of it's impact.

el vee said...

It is refreshing to learn that more & more individuals "our age" are at last realizing that there is life -- a good life, even -- beyond the confines of Jim, Jameson, Jack and their suspicious cohorts. As a success story of the 6-week-sober kind (although I have since been failing in graceful attempts to reenter social drinking), I can tell you that your frustration with your self-inflicted boredom is only going to be temporary. After week two, you'll realize that the person who posted above me is completely right: It's the drunks who are boring; not the sober. Also, drunks get very little accomplished, as far as actual work and progress is concerned. The sober shall inherit the earth.

t said...

i'll keep on drinking but i'll also keep on visiting to see how the sobriety's going.

Mike said...

Uh oh, it's been a week without an update. Do I smell a bender? Perhaps you're in Arizona getting acquainted with this season's prospects.

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