of course i drink

Of course I drink. Kowtowing to everyone is all that it takes to remind me that after 6 p.m., it is time for my nightly shot or two of bourbon. I rarely talk serious matter to anyone in my circle of acquaintances [don’t they all have serious issues of their own and don’t want to be bothered , or perhaps they pretend to listen, nodding at the appropriate times], so it is only in the unwinding process of the day that I can reflect on life and all its complexities.

Don’t get me wrong. I do not ever drink—really, ever—when I have responsibilities. You know what they are, the family and friends who matter more than the drink.

Last night my routine was different; actually, it often is, as I reach this way and that for new adventures. We went out for Mexican food, so I had a margarita. Then we went to the theatre, and afterwards I had a glass of red wine.

Should I worry? My mom used to say that one thing my brothers and I had in common was the fact that we liked a drink. None of us, to my knowledge, has ever been falling-down drunk.

Wait. There was that time when I totally blanked out, and maybe the fire department came and put out the fire. I was in the backyard, commiserating with myself about the unfairness of life (there truly were extenuating circumstances, believe me), when I torched an old dirty area rug. It smoked and smoldered before breaking out in house-high flames.

So maybe the fire department came, or maybe not, I don’t remember. I never got a ticket for endangering the community, and my neighbors have never brought it up. Maybe it was a dream, a nightmare. Or to quote a line from an Uncle Tupelo song, "all my daydreams, disasters"?

I can say, however, that since that day I have never lost consciousness, or had a total blackout.

Perhaps Louise Erdrich (author extraordinaire) to the rescue again? “Crown of Thorns,” 1981, really knocked my socks off. Try reading it if you’ve ever thought you might have a little problem. The intensity of these words slammed in my face.