Edginess

　　 When I knew the payoff would be big enough, a total wipe-out, a plastered drunkenness for the record books, I could savor that edge of my edginess. My next drink would be spectacular, back then, when I could look forward to my next drink with joyful anticipation. Blow your brains out spectacular. That dark tunnel of blackout drunkenness, familiar, yet cannily unknown.

 　

　　 The sweating would stop soon. I wondered if John and Charlie sensed my fear, my eagerness, my edginess and the complexity of my emotions as we neared Fort Dix. Charlie's house, a dilapidated mansion in the country. Soon. Not yet. Calm down.

　　 We turned right into Charlie’s driveway and for once, it seems that the blackout preceded that first drink. WTF (and I don't mean, "Well, That's Fine")?

　　 John and Charlie called that weekend the "Daffodil Festival" and I only know that because that is what I was told. So much of my life was what others later told me it was. It was this and it was that and it was the other thing. My life was as I was told it was.

from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 5)