i can't write anymore.
while i've rarely been able to write sober--all my self-defeating, overthinking, second-guessing inhibitions come into play and paralysis sets in almost immediately--i could always at least count on being able to write drunk.
until now, anyway.
one of the timeworn cliches of self-improvement is that you have to let go of one side of the pool before you can get to the other, and in the midst of my most recent carefully-constructed quest for something better outta life, i've apparently begun that painful process of letting go.
and it looks like we're starting with alcohol.
the good news is, as a result of recent and ongoing therapies and treatments, i'm growing demonstrably sounder in mind and body--yay for me. the bad news is, said new-found health is seriously getting in the way of my drinking (and thus, my writing--and thus, this blog).
it's weird; the desire to get shitfaced is suddenly not there anymore--apparently, my improving physiology is literally shrinking away from the alcohol and, hard as i try, i can no longer drink with my former wanton fluidity.
it's funny--i still look forward all week to the theory of friday night, that magical time when i can cast all cares of the week aside and start drinking. these days however, when the actuality of friday night arrives, instead of racing for the freezer and grabbing the vodka as in days of yore, i now tend to delay mixing that first drink and then, when finally mixed, let it sit there and sweat for awhile before i force myself to take that first swig. and in the last two weeks i've allowed my work to get in the way of my weekend drinking, a prospect that even recently would've been unthinkable.
in other words, i guess i've let go of one side of the pool; problem is, between letting go of one side and successfully reaching the other, there's this big, scary, seemingly insurmountable stretch of shark-infested water in between, with no life-preservers to be found.
another way of stating the problem? nothing positive has come along to take alcohol's place yet, which is why this blog (among other things in my life) sucks so bad right now.
and it's also why this post is so painfully awkward--i mean, what would you expect from something written on less than one mkf cocktail [look it up--i really don't feel like digging up the original reference to link to], which, in days of yore, woulda been a mere warm-up to the real drinking--and, consequently, to the real writing.
will i turn tail and swim madly back toward the dark safety of the side i know? time will tell, i guess.
* * * * *
i remember back in the eighties all the rich-bitch wives of my uncle's high-living, hard-drinking petroleum-club buddies sitting around twirling their diamonds and complaining incessantly about their husbands' drunken excesses. and then, when after their first heart attacks and/or dui's said husbands dutifully sobered up, leaving them because they weren't fun anymore.
another one of those things i didn't understand then, and totally understand now.
