Like a bird flying past the boundaries of North and South Carolina, unknowingly, I was crossing borders, thousands of them, the borders between active addiction and sustained sobriety.
Flying above the myths, the prejudices of perception, the taboos, I feel one incontrovertible fact, the irony of survival being the prize of survival, the everything that is nothing, the enigma which occurs when struggle becomes effortless.
Life is cool. No drink, no sweat.
(Surimi):
"Virtuous cycles of progress." I like that, Vatchi. It's life beyond the myth, the foregone prejudices of myth, the unnecessary, the non-thinking.
The irony of consequences with unattributable causes, because the causes are too many, too varied, too complex.
Do people know what they're asking when they ask, "Why doesn't he just stop?"?
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 71)
The irony of consequences with unattributable causes, because the causes are too many, too varied, too complex.
Somehow, the victim has become the survivor.
Virtuous progress or virtual hell?
Do people know what they're asking when they ask, "Why doesn't he just stop?"?
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 71)
No comments:
Post a Comment