Paradise Unobtainable

　　 I swear I used to have some kind of sense when I was drinking that some limousine door of my mind would open for me and an attendant would say, "Mr. Anders, you have arrived."

　　 Trouble was, as the saying goes,　I was always "a few fries short of a Happy Meal."

　　 The illusion that alcohol could take me to some paradise of fulfillment unobtainable in the real world was always just one sip beyond my lips. Under the influence, I was always just this much short of being 'there'.
(Vatchi): Half-truths, half-lies, half lives. The intersection of anticipation and dread. The excitement of readying for a trip and the discovery that it is　a trip to nowhere. And the mixing in of other drugs: valium, speed, Quaaludes, whatever. Insanity squared.

　
　　 When you've got it, you've got it.　

　　 Bad.
　

　　 He shot an arrow in the air and where he landed, he knew not where.
　

　　 Bad.
　

　　 The unintended consequence? Nothingness  from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 39)