Feb 20, 2009 13:21
It seems that my recent desire to have a couple of glasses of wine with my dinner indicates that I am an alcoholic. Thank goodness I have people watching over me or else I may have never figured out that my attempt to take the edge off is actually a vile addiction.
Free passed along a great passage by John Dickey the other day about why so many writer's are alcoholics. First, you use the alcohol to tap into the talent, the flow of creativity, or what have you. Then, once you have it, it is such a torture that you use the alcohol to drive it away. Obviously, I don't want to go full on down that path, knowing that it is absolutely true. I also am aware that alcohol is classified as a depressant. However, a little bit of wine at the end of a day occupied by blunt agony makes me feel pretty goddamn good and I can't wrap my head around the wrong in that.
Maybe if I announce that since my drinking bothers them so much I'm going to keep a bottle of whiskey under my mattress then they'll lay off. Or maybe I should just skip the announcement and pick up the jack.