A friend, the self same, coincidently, who shared that first garbage-laced tipple, took me one fine summer's eve to the house of a relative. There, hidden away behind a bed in one of the rooms, was a bottle of cider. I can't recall the exact volume of the container, so engrossed was I in the fact that this friend's cousin had suddenly became rather attractive in defiance of all laws of physics, but I do recall it was quite large. The bottle of cider, I mean. The bottle was quite large.
And there were cigarettes also. A veritable den of rebellion hidden away behind this unassuming headboard. We didn't drink from the bottle, as I recall, but the very knowledge that this acquaintance, barely a year older than myself, had in his possession a vast quantity of alcoholic beverage, was enough to convince me that the time had arrived. Those words were going to be put into place alongside my name, like some folks slap letters after theirs on account of degrees in social management skills. The Duke - Mature. Grown-Up.
When you head into a recovery group for the first time, you hear a lot of jargon tossed around. What the hell most of it means is anyone's guess, but some of it is painfully obvious. Blackout Drinking was one such term I remember hearing very early on in my sobriety. The bizarre enigma of getting up all sorts of bizarre shenanigans, and having "the best night ever, man", apparently, and yet remembering not one solitary detail. Or maybe you do remember a few, but they're kind of soft-focus, and not really in the right chronological order. Like late-period Fellini, in fact.
My first blackout happened when I was 13 or 14 years old. It was a terrifying affair, not at the time, since I was fucked if I knew what the hell was going on, but afterwards, when feelings of joviality and reckless youthful spree's were replaced with guilt and remorse and genuine sorrow for the hurt it had caused other people. That bit was fairly crap, to be honest. But it never got less crap. It never went from being unbearable torment to being a right old time. I never woke up with the smile I went to sleep with.
Around the time of that first black-out, a few interesting things were happening in the town. One such event, was that a renowned off-licence was changing hands, so to speak. Another was that a similar popular drinking establishment was doing the same thing. What this meant for myself and company, was that these proprietors were more than willing to hand out drink to whoever the hell came to the door, regardless of age or obvious pre-pubescent status.
Article comments
1 - Chakan
Please continue.
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
OK. thank you. note the time that this was posted. It took me to 5 in the mornin to finally decide upon it. As for the book that's linked to there, obviously any help is to be appreciated, and thanks to whoever put the link on, since i was half asleep when i was posting this. Personally, tho, i found books and literature and all that to be little help without human contact. But whatever helps, man. Thanks for the encouragement. Il get Part 2 up ASAP, though it might take a day or two. Thank you.
3 - Chakan
Thanks. :)