It's not like a complicated data set with tons of variables . . .

that you first have to clean and polish and then carefully plug into giant pivot tables and read carefully, where the results will be contingent and highly contextual.

if you drink, you will suffer.  and then you will die.  you will suffer more than if you didn't drink, and you will die sooner.

that's my reality.  it isn't fantasy.

Excuses.

We hold all of this pent up nuance inside that nobody sees, and we desire very strongly to let it out.  But when we can't get it out, or when the nuance isn't noticed when we do, or when we see other people unintelligibly letting it out--pure amateurs, we think, though we never actually practice what we may self-preach--we only have one friend.  And that friend is liquid, and goes right inside to buddy up with all of the nuance.  And it is good at smothering its buddies.  And pretty soon all of the nuance is hostility.  And the hostility is easier to let out. And the reactions are strong, but the excuses made are about how others don't understand, about how they don't see.  And the crime is that we've become blind to any nuance ourselves, but still use it as a crutch.

Dangerously Close to 2 Years Sober.

Never thought I'd achieve it, actually.  Twelve years ago, I stopped for eight months.  That was my first 'getting sober' session.  I thought then that I wouldn't drink again.  But I was wrong.

Then, in 2009, I went for 6 months.  Heavy duty, I thought at the time, patting myself on the back.

Six month after getting unsober, I realized how far I'd fallen from my glory high of sobriety, and decided I needed to stop for at least a year this time.  Which I did.  On June 25, 2010.  Soon I'll cross over the two year mark.  I'm not trying to experience emotion about it.  But that rarely has anything to do with it.

Labeling Something "Rare" -

My gut tells me this is idiotic.

My hand says: buy this!

My wife accuses me of cheating on her.

My cat finds an enormous roach.

The strange man touches my hand.

The hamburger meat talks back.

John Fahey delights.

We Don't Know So Much

I find it shocking in this respect that we might feel as if there were no beauty, or that beauty couldn't be discovered, or that, also, there might be a reason not to continue to live.  Maybe beauty can't be compared against suffering, or maybe there's too long to wait.  Or maybe a lot of things.  I'm not talking delusional whipper-snapping drooling type laconic-removal-of-self-from-reality daydreaming, but about finding some hard work, a steady rhythm, if a bit slow moving and hard to change direction, and settling down into that groove for a while, only to find that you've misplaced the entire dimension of the room in your minds eye, and that the reality around you has been moving and shifting in ways subtle and large enough to birth tendrils of fear it is so grand, but soothing, too, in the way that it seems to cradle the thin spindle of saliva that is, well, what it is: your life.

When Will I Have a Drink?

Never.  Motherfucker.  Stop fucking asking me already.  I'm done.

Is that hard to digest?  If so, you may have a drinking problem.

Where Is This All Going?

I used to be a sucker for "destiny" talk, as in, your efforts are futile because your life is guided by something unseen, and you'll get what you are meant to get.

I think this amounts to assuming some macro level universal zero sum game that is fundamentally flawed.  There's no reason to believe that I'll get everything I need to get.  While there is a reason to believe that everyone thinks they are exceptional, and that what they think are needs are really wants, there is not a reason to believe that my life will be okay--i.e. that I'll be happy--if I just stop thinking about being happy, or what it means to have multiple conflicting preferences within one place: my brain.

Optimism, though, is physically beneficial, apparently (excuse the lack of link).  Self-delusion, in short, can work to help us.  So maybe destiny-type thinking is more helpful.

But it seems that it eliminates for me too strongly the incentive to take steps toward my own goals, and allows as well justification for laziness.

I'm still wildly lazy.  But I'm incrementally less lazy than I was a year ago.  And that's progress.  Amen to sobriety.

Chose and Deny

We like to chose particular moments in time to define ourselves, and disregard or weigh less the other moments.  It is a much harder lift to think about who we are through many moments without shifting back to the singular moment that allows us a bit of wiggle room and romance.

In other words, we protect our egos viciously.  They are all we have, in a way, and also they are paradoxically, less than the totality of who we are in the same way that a moment defines us.

Outrage Bias

I don't know if this is an actual thing, but I wanted to say that I think there's nothing quite equal to outrage to instill irrational conclusion drawing, lopsided narrative creation, and generally divide and screw people.  If we all learned to be a little less outraged, and respond less to outrage . . . well, I'd be a hell of a lot less annoyed.

Self-Deceit and IQ

Consider the very real possibility that the smarter you are, the better you are at deceiving others, precisely because you are very good at deciphering other people's deception.

Consider that, given the above, you are probably an expert at deceiving yourself, especially if you're the megalomanic type of boozer that I think you are.

Everybody's Drunk

It struck me the other night (admittedly, it was 3am early saturday morning), that almost everyone riding the train was stoned drunk.  Like dropping their bags and half passing out drunk.

And I couldn't help but think it: what makes people get so out of control that they lack the capacity to ride the train home?  Like, are the benefits worth the costs?  I can't remember them being such.  In fact, I'd say to my old self that justifying hangovers is all about distorted self-perception and fantasy self-narrative.

We're 90% Urge and 10% Narrative

Most of our behavioral patterns aren't controlled.  We think we control them, but what we do is justify them, mentally rectify them, and move on.  We'd like to think we're in control of ourselves, but unfortunately, maybe we're not so much.  (We're especially not in control of other people).


Last night I went out to a proper bar/club/lounge in one of the trendiest spots of NYC.  I don't like these places, and I didn't want to go there.  I wouldn't chose to go without familiar bonds that dragged me there.  I didn't have a bad time, though, dancing a bit, and generally observing and laughing.

One thing I noticed was the amount of conflict between friends that I can't control, or feel bad about.  I also can't try to solve conflict that isn't mine to solve.

The other thing I noticed folks, is just how drunk everybody got.  Not just at the club, but also on the train going home.  Seemed like a pretty miserable scene.  Everybody was exhausted and just trying to survive the ride, half stoned, half drunk, vomiting in plastic bags, dropping things, falling asleep (passing out), kissing strangers, all that shit.  I'm feeling pretty good about my sobriety about now. Not because I am morally pure, but because I'm about to go on a run and enjoy the splendid whether and the "others" in my entourage are firmly into the grips of a hangover that will probably last all day.