My
un-defining moment was being plastered and bowling a 276. Seven drunken strikes
in a row in my bar’s bowling league. At that time, I really did do my best
physically when I was drunk because drunk had become the new normal. My brain
was used to drunk. My brain needed drunk to be in familiar territory. The liquid
I had become used to navigating through was alcohol. Liquid me in a liquid dream
swimming through alcohol. Alcohol bathed each and every cell in my body,
separately and lusciously. Caressing each cell like a little warm oil rubdown at
an expensive spa. Alcohol, the ultimate masseuse. I bowled a 276, plastered,
shortly blacked out and still drinking, swimming through alcohol like Marlee
Matlin swimming in stunning silence. There was no before or after, only this
oblivion.
(Sotto): He’s making me a little
uncomfortable here. A little too enticing. An attractive numbness. I’m shifting
my feet. Is this the place where fear starts?
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 54)
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