September 10, 2005

Someone once asked me why I say I'm a recovering alcoholic instead of former alcoholic. "After all," they pointed out, "you don't drink now so that's all in the past." Non-alcoholics always say that. See, I'll always be an alcoholic. You can't change what you are. You can only change how you deal with it. I'll always want to drink. The difference between now and then is that then when a glass of rum sounded fucking good, I had twelve. Now when a glass of rum sounds fucking good, I have none. I choose not to drink. That's the only difference.

Well, that and the fact that now Friday and Saturday nights in town are frightful. I avoid the bar district as much as is humanly possible (considering I work in the heart of it) on the weekends. People get dumber by progression on Friday and Saturday nights. Or dumber by the glass, I guess. And the more slobberingly irritatingly drunk the masses get, the more humiliation I have to suffer by proxy. Walking home becomes a flame-cheeked "Oh god, did I walk like that? All slanted and swaying?" and "Oh MAN was I that LOUD?" and "Gross. Spew." exercise in reminiscence. I suppose the best way to stay sober is to constantly remind yourself of the alternative. Because when I was drinking I didn't see myself as a staggering half-dressed whorish idiot. But now... well... you know what they say: 20/20 hindsight. Yes, yes that was me. Trolling for equally-as-pissed boys with no sense of style and no brain cells to lose so we could both wake up the next morning sick as dogs and asking the age-old questions "Where are my clothes?" and "Who the HELL are you?"

Sobriety, though the hardest thing I've ever done on a daily basis, really is the only option. I can't stand drunks. That's either irony or hypocrisy. Or possibly both.

September 6, 2005

I say HEY - what?

That's pretty much the sum of it.

And before you ask, "tangerine". (Now scream.)

**Gabrielle: Keeping your day surreal since 2004.**