Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

It has been four weeks since I decided to give up drinking, and boy, am I thirsty! Seriously, though, I would like to say that my mind has never been sharper, and I have lost a ton of belly blubber simply by cutting out the copious amounts of alcohol that once gave my life meaning. Of course, it’s a lie; I am just as stupid and still fat, and the cumulative 23 year hangover is practically killing me. The lack of alcohol makes me even more surly, and I am now uncomfortably aware of how many aimless, shiftless zombies there are in California. They all buy their organic grass fed brains at Trader Joe’s.

One of the consequences of my inferior extraverted sensing, if you subscribe to that sort of thing, is that I prefer immersing myself in the reality I create inside my head rather than dealing with the garbage of the outside world. Instead of working on improving the weaker dimension of my personality, alcohol helps me to accept it.

Drinking keeps me content in the place where it’s better that I stay. Trust me, it’s safer for everyone if I steadfastly ignore, disrespect even, the larger part of reality. Reality makes me angry, and as soon as I start focusing on the real world, it’s all, “Whose child is that? Where are his parents? Why are they not stopping him from running around the pool area? Can they not see the sign?” immediately followed by, “Whose dog is that? Why is it not on a leash? Where are its owners? Can they not see the sign?” Obeying the rules published on signs seems to take on a larger meaning with continued sobriety. If they weren’t important, why did someone take the time to write them down like that in white-on-brown Helvetica?

Alcohol mitigates the abrasiveness that often comes out when I am sober, but make no mistake, it is still in there waiting to rough someone up. Mentally, I feel more unstable, and physically, I feel no different at all. In another eight weeks I will find out if the experiment has had any positive side effects. Maybe I am healthier on the inside, where it doesn’t really matter. Nobody ever dies healthy.


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