Eh, well. I guess they can’t all turn out the way you want them to, huh? Lives, that is. I’m really glad to find out that we get to do this whole review process; it’s great to get a chance to process everything I’ve been through. Now that I look back on it all, I realize that I spent a big chunk of my life thinking about my past, but I didn’t really evaluate it, you know? It was all fantasy. Nobody (or at least not me) really remembers their past. Your own past is no more real than reading a history. My life, Plutarch’s Lives, no difference. It’s all interpretation. Present is observation, past is interpretation — even if it’s your past. But that’s what so great about this review process, you know? You really lay out the whole thing piece-by-piece, and what with all the videos and all, I’m starting to get a real sense of all the stuff I’ve done in my life.
Did I really do all that? Clearly. There are probably a lot of people who would blame many of my bad choices on the drinking. It’s funny, though: as much as I understand that the drinking led to a lot of poor decisions, I can’t help but thinking that I wish I’d done it more. Drank more, I mean. I just had a lot of fun when I was. Drunk that is. When I was young I always thought that drugs and drink clouded the person that you really were. Looking back on it, though, it’s possible that it made me more me. The one thing I always felt when I was doing it (and experience varies, right?) was a sense of filling in. What I mean by that is…well, like I could feel the alcohol filling in all the cracks in me. Literally, really. A gin and tonic would ice through me like the blue veins in a piece of cheese. God, that’s an awful simile. I guess you don’t get any smarter here, eh? No, I guess you don’t. Anyway, wherever there was a lacuna in my being, alcohol bridged the gap.
But that’s hardly novel, is it? Whenever people talk about why they drink or get high, it’s always because of something they’re missing. But what I’m saying is this: I didn’t do it because I was missing parental love, or a good self image, or whatthefuckelse: I think I drank because I was missing alcohol. Right? And don’t judge me for that. Why can’t you innately love alcohol? Some people innately love art, and seek it out; and that’s no more artificial than booze. Anyway, whatever.
I’m not sure why I spent so much time talking about drinking. I guess the defensiveness carries over, eh? From life, I mean. What I could never really make clear to people was that the things they thought were wrong with me were not the things I thought were. Dig? People thought I was arrogant, and what I always said was the I was egotistical but had low self-esteem. I always said that meant that I projected a sense of rightness while secretly thinking I was a Less-Than. But now I’m not sure. Now I think that it may have just meant that the things other people thought were wrong with me were different than the things I thought were wrong with me. Or something.
It’s a shame that you give such clear perspective to me now, but I’m no more endowed with ability of perception. Perspective, perception. Heh. Not that it’s funny. This death thing isn’t so bad. Then again, I’m probably not dead. I’m probably just drunk.