It is the feeling of standing on wheels for the first time. Or perhaps a blade on ice. To me it was/is always unsettling. Today has been such a feeling. A restless and sleepy haze of sorting out details and overanalyzing motives. Of knowing that if I haven’t already stumbled and fallen in the rink I soon will and it will inevitably hurt.

Many people have pointed out that as of late I write quite a lot about the drink. My drink. I romanticize chemical dependence almost as much as I seem to depend upon it. This is a personal, private issue that I recognize affects more than myself.

So this week we’ll revisit the old habit of not drinking for a week or so. I’ve already given up some of my evening television, so this shouldn’t be hard. Again. Except for the fact that I already am missing the distraction, the amusement of feeling tipsy.

This isn’t 12-step longing. This just happens to be how I spend my nights as of late.