confessions of an american drunk...

by adam schirling...


To see us, you may not see anything worth a second glance…we are the middle, the nobody on the corner and in the grocery store. We hail from many different backgrounds and belief systems. But one thing sets us apart. Our thirst. The thirst never dies, no matter how many churches or meetings you go to or pills you swallow in a vain attempt to kill the primal urge that bubbles up from the darkest recesses of the soul. It is what binds us, makes us a powerful voice to be heard, the true blessed beings that strive for perfection through indulgence in liquid suicide. This bitter search for a way to soothe the onslaught of an uncaring universe..
It takes quite a bit of gumption to begin a quest such as ours. Many do it without knowing, they were the amateur boozers at one point, light beers and girly shooters. But as others grew out of this phase to more mature and subdued submission to the all mighty bottle, usually in the form of dinner wine or football game beers, we kept at it, kept striving for transcendence. Many reasons can cause this phenomenon. The clergy driven mindset of the mindless scum that occupy rehab centers would have you believe that this gift is a genetic curse, wrought upon us in the womb, and that we have no power over our desires. This, of course, is wrong. Whether it is sorrow, or naivety, or just good old fashioned American love of good times, we all made a conscientious decision to be as we are.
If there is one thing I have learned as I stumble through this world in a drunken haze, it’s that temperance is a curse. Those that refuse that 3rd drink, citing work in the morning or the watching of calories or not wanting to feel the icy hot fingers of intoxication wrapping around their throat, are not to be trusted. These are the folks that will be the destruction of our society, of our very way of life. We are descended from beasts, wild animals that once ran amok in the jungles and plains of the world, fighting and fucking and succumbing to every whim that crossed their simple minds. Over the long centuries of evolution and so called progress, we have learned to ignore these calls, these instincts. We as humans lost touch with our most human aspects. We became polite and formal and wrapped our minds in the shroud of decency, and the lies of pleasant relations with our friends and neighbors.
But there are some of us who will not adhere to these principles that we have no understanding of. There are some of us who will not sit idly in minivans and pta meetings. There are some of us that will not be kept quiet. We are the drunks, the boozers, the rummies, the beerguts and diseased livers. There is a very simple reason that the pleasant warm kiss of alcohol can kill you if consumed in vast quantities over time. For anyone that has felt the thrill and the immortality of drunken absurdity knows this already. The gods give us this beautiful gift, this enlightenment; for the drinks are a key to the door to understanding everything that ever was or will ever be. But it comes at a cost, and that is our health, and our friends, and the respect of society as a whole.
But we don’t care. We need none of that. We need another drink, for the day is young, and a few dollars remain in the wallet, and we have the need to explore the mystery and intricacies of the human experiment.
And it’s fucking delicious.