Alcohol is such a clever drug.

It saunters along.

Whistling.

Eyebrows raised.

Acting all innocent.

Avoiding the sanctions that its friends the ‘proper drugs’ are subjected to.

Woven into our psyche and our society.

Sticking out a hand to stroke our brow and make us feel better as we end each day.

And, at other times, sticking out a leg to stab our shins and send us tripping into depression, abuse, self abuse, adultery, theft, assault and worse.

Alcohol is such a clever drug.

Shadows.

Alcohol hides in the dark corners of my life.

Every day.

Waiting.

In the shadows.

On any given night it waits for me in several different guises.

It seduces me between television programmes.

It sits chilled and manly in the fridge.

And smart and sophisticated on the sideboard.

As a wine.

Or a whiskey.

When it is a whiskey, it comes with sound, too.

It comes with ice that clinks in glasses.

And whiskey voices in my head.

Deep, Scottish whiskey voices.

Talking about golden liquid.

And crackling fires.

And Christmases.

Alcohol is such a clever drug.

Money. 

When I have money.

And am doing well.

I buy alcohol.

To celebrate.

And when I have no money.

And am feeling down.

I buy alcohol then, too.

Because it makes me feel better.

I don’t buy alcohol because I need to you understand.

I buy it because I want to.

I could stop drinking alcohol anytime.

Straight away and for good.

But as I say.

I just don’t want to.

I like alcohol.

Alcohol – somehow – has become an absolutely essential part of my life, that I don’t want to remove or reduce at all, yet still – I am not an alcoholic.

Alcohol.

It is such a clever drug.

3 Comments

  1. I stopped listening to alcohol’s seductive song almost 25 years ago, when I was twenty-six years old. Already the shin kicking days far outweighed the brow stroking ones.

    I was failing my degree, broke and close to being a shut-in.

    I was depressed, abusive and desperate.

    Since switching channels, the time has continued to pass. Life has trundled along and, without alcohol, I have trod the road of happy destiny.

    I’m fifty now. A life without alcohol has brought me to another big crossroads. I’m not sure I would have reached this age without surrendering to sobriety.

    I am so happy I did. Can’t wait for the next 50 beautiful years.

  2. PAUL CANNON Reply

    Excellent writing and I must congratulate you on your decision. I celebrate the fact that you shared beautifully. I will openly admit that I am an Alcoholic. After almost fourteen years of Sobriety, I no longer care who knows, for today I am a Recovered Alcoholic.

    There is nothing wrong with drinking. I certainly do not judge. I just happen to belong to one of 15% of the world that have no business touching it. It does add calories, that can be better consumed in food (I’ll trade an a glass of the jet fuel I used to drink for an ice cream cone any day of the week). A huge advantage of giving up alcohol is developing a means to handle Life on Life’s terms with no assistance from a foreign substance. No longer requiring the crutch it used to provide. That gives you the ability to stand out from many other’s in the world today. Once again, I congratulate you on your decision.

  3. Mark Anderson Reply

    IMPORTANT

    Hello.

    Michael here.

    Founder of 50odd.co.uk.

    I pondered for a couple of days whether to post the comment below.

    Because it is a very raw, first-hand account of alcoholism in a way that I have never read or seen before.

    Either fictional or factual.

    It is content that is very likely to disturb and upset.

    It certainly made me think.

    Anyhow, I’ve – eventually – decided to post it in full.

    It’s only very short.

    And unedited.

    So, in summary, I’ve decided to post this for the exact same reasons that I almost did not.

    Because it is a very raw, first-hand account of alcoholism in a way that I have never read or seen before.

    And by the way, I’m not saying any of this to titivate or entice.

    This is a genuine warning.

    I’m an alcoholic. 7 years sober. I enjoyed your writing. The whimsical tone made my blood run cold. Get back to me when you’ve stolen money from your children’s birthday cards. Get back to me when you haven’t had a solid shit for a year. Get back to me when you’ve caught your own vomit in a pint glass and drunk it through your teeth so as not to waste alcohol. Get back to me when. Alcohol isn’t clever, it’s insane. I’m 50 and odd, too.

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