Six months. \u00a031.5 times six. \u00a0 93 days? \u00a0 I’m not particularly mathematically adept at this time.<\/p>\n
Nevertheless and irregardless– off the wagon.<\/p>\n
First, it was the party for a friend of my lover. \u00a0 Strong through an hour, maybe two. \u00a0Then anxious. \u00a0Then was asked to get a drink for her. \u00a0 Hers were weak. \u00a0I nod and smile. \u00a0To the bar. \u00a0Drop a twenty. \u00a0 “Double vodka.”<\/p>\n
It was downhill from there. \u00a0Down into “Proud Mary in the style of Ike and Tina Turner” at some dive called “Longneckers”. \u00a0Down to a $100 cab ride two turns north and west because, apparently, I slurred “Spring St” into “Springville”. \u00a0At least I didn’t drive.<\/p>\n
But the next morning, with the special lady’s car an hour’s traffic south in Depew? \u00a0The shower handle breaks off. \u00a0I’m driving down Transit (the reverse route the cab driver should have taken) in\u00a0oppressive Sunday morning heat, wondering if the {jury,jerry}-rigged hose was still attached to the drain, or if my apartment was (once again) flooded.<\/p>\n
We made it back. \u00a0It was a good day in the end. \u00a0 I topped\u00a0off the proverbial, but it was good. \u00a0In my philosophy of sobriety, a stumble doesn’t necessarily cripple.<\/p>\n
A rough week later, after kilobytes of text too tawdry to re-late, the lover and I were back on terms of endearment. \u00a0We just wanted to *be* together. \u00a0We did.<\/p>\n
I picked up a four-pack of Ommegang Rare Vos before “we did”.<\/p>\n
I could barely finish the first. \u00a0 Half of the second, the rest down the drain. \u00a0 It’s a pathetic ABV, anyway.<\/p>\n
Next week, things are much worse. \u00a0 I “dialed” a number with three digits. \u00a0Wasn’t pretty. \u00a0Swore I’d never do that to someone, but I did.<\/p>\n
Gotta swear off swearing.<\/p>\n
375mL of … New Amsterdam? \u00a0 I walked for it. \u00a0To “Liquor Store” on Main in Williamsville. \u00a0Very somber in the shop. \u00a0I always play a role. \u00a0This was the role of the reluctant reprise of an alcoholic. \u00a0(No, not *that* disease-implicative term, but\u00a0let’s use the word for expedience before I lose interest in this post.) \u00a0Took it home. \u00a0Maybe three shots in three separate talls of\u00a0Sodastream tonics. \u00a0Just enough for a buzz, and the remainder went down the drain.<\/p>\n
Last night.<\/p>\n
Another 375. \u00a0Sobieski. \u00a0My old friend.<\/p>\n
Downed half that one.<\/p>\n
It was enough to conjure the breath of the dragon. \u00a0It was enough to steer me off and leave me waking to a head full of webs and wisps. \u00a0It was enough to make me regret.<\/p>\n
And? \u00a0 Tonight.<\/p>\n
Six-pack of Commodore Perry. \u00a0I’m experimenting, see? \u00a0I’m working out what quantity might bring the quality that keeps me from coming home every goddamned night and going straight to bed. \u00a0I’m figuring what might be enough to erase the mistakes I’ve forced out of recall’s range and be content with myself for an evening.<\/p>\n
To the credit of the experiment, I have spilt some admirable word combinations this night.<\/p>\n
But.<\/p>\n
But … is it worth it?<\/p>\n
I can’t be a drunk again. \u00a0Not a “modern drunkard”. \u00a0Not an “alcoholic”. \u00a0Not … not what I said I wouldn’t be.<\/p>\n
Am I weak? \u00a0Am I paralyzed with a fear of being alone with my self?<\/p>\n
Maybe every chance ticked itself off the availables on Memorial Day in 2011. \u00a0 Can I only choose one role? \u00a0If I fail at it, am I doomed to spiral, grasping, down into nothing?<\/p>\n
What was I before this?<\/p>\n
Will I ever be him\u00a0again?<\/p>\n
Do I want to be?<\/p>\n
Fuck it.<\/p>\n
TUSK.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Six months. \u00a031.5 times six. \u00a0 93 days? \u00a0 I’m not particularly mathematically adept at this time. Nevertheless and irregardless– off the wagon. First, it was the party for a friend of my lover. \u00a0 Strong through an hour, maybe two. \u00a0Then anxious. \u00a0Then was asked to get a drink for her. \u00a0 Hers were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[64,3,33,5,89,31],"class_list":["post-593","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-me","tag-alcoholism","tag-depression","tag-fuckitall","tag-parenthood","tag-raw","tag-separation"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/593","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=593"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/593\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":594,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/593\/revisions\/594"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=593"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=593"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=593"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}