Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
November 21st, 1981
Of course, there is a very potent medication readily available which will provide speedy relief from this pain. About three stiff gin and tonics should do it. I have today— all day long— seriously entertained the option of drinking. This pain is diffuse and non-specific and unrelenting. I cannot bear it much longer.
I had to work today— and my continuing resentment at this job has flared into rage that is totally uncontrollable. I am helpless and hopeless. I cannot afford to stop working now. And that is precisely what I want and need to do. The need to stop working is so overwhelming. For months— all through this sobriety bullshit— the job demands have been mounting— and my interest and enthusiasm declining. Now— if such an enormous urgent need exists in my life— why doesn’t this supposed Higher Power who is now in charge of my life do something about it. How am I to maintain faith in this benevolent protective force who is supposedly caring for me— when this horrible insane pain persists and grows? This cornerstone of the program— the foundation— is perhaps the most ludicrous and insane of all the cultish hoaxes of the AA’s perpetuate daily among themselves. It is a barbaric attempt at group hypnosis. I have found no working evidence of a tangible protective force in this world. Life is random and meaningless. This notion I have been pathetically fostering of a Cowboy Higher Power is a sad little boy’s longing for love. It will never happen. I have never been loved. And I never will be.
And, frankly, I think getting drunk is a wonderfully appropriate response to this happy world we live in.
I go to bed tonight ravaged with rage and pain.