What a dismal expression meaning, abstaining from alcohol, and guess, that’s the point. Sobering up is never pleasant.
I decided I’ve been drinking too much, and alone, which is never smart. You’re better off going out having cocktails even if you’re sitting with strangers, rather than a party of one in your living room. Yes, it’s cheaper to drink at home, but also dangerous.
Even Hemingway drank at the Cafe Select when he needed liquid reinforcement. A brandy and soda, I believe is what Papa drank, at least in Paris when he was young and broke. I’m old and broke, but still feel a kinship.
Why have I been numbing myself is the big question. Well, truthfully speaking, looking at the world through a scrim has its appeal. I’m just tired of everything and everybody to put it in a nutshell, another interesting idiom.
I want things to change, but can’t seem to make it happen. My acute sensitivity is a major factor in the way I approach things, a trait inherited from my dad who drank himself to death as a young man.
Yes, that should be enough for me to hang up my corkscrew, shouldn’t it?
My mother also drank when I was a kid, out of boredom mostly. When she got a job, she stopped cold, trading in her whisky for a weekly paycheck. I too can stop like it’s nothing…strength, a feature, the only one actually, I got from her.
She was like a Sherman tank never stopping, no matter what life threw her way.
Despite my tears, I’m tough too, getting up off the mat ten times a day. I cry a lot which is why I no longer wear mascara. Look at the bright side, I tell myself, you’re saving a fortune.
I’m not saying I’ll never drink again, I mean, how could I break the news to Camille. She’d have to be sedated. No, I’m just abstaining for now, until I can say I’m facing what ails me without blinders, particularly on ice.
One should drink when they’re happy, but alas, that’s not always the case, now is it?