October 31st, 1975

[continued]

I also am thinking about how when I get home from work at night I am edgy, uneasy, not relaxed until I have a drink. I used to say, and maybe it was true, that I drink beer because I like it and how I never get drunk. But now it doesn’t matter. I will drink whatever we have– if I run out of beer (and I always drink a six-pack by 9:00 or 10:00 at night) I will drink wine, or gin, or scotch. Whatever we have. When I have a day off I sometimes start drinking when I first get up– maybe take a nap– then drink all night.

There are so many internal changes I have to devote myself to. I have to re-think my entire lifestyle– my whole personality.

And very importantly, I have to stop drinking. The past three years my body has literally been ravaged by exhaustion, tension, alcohol, and cigarettes.

Last weekend when I went a whole day without smoking and still woke up the next morning feeling horrible– I realized that smoking is not the single cause of my poor physical state. It’s the drinking. Yesterday, I had a relaxed, indulgent day all to myself. I did what I wanted to do– no tensions, no pressures. I went to bed early, got a good nights sleep.  This morning I should have bounced out of bed feeling great. But I didn’t– at 8:30– two hours later than I normally get up– I had to drag my sick, hungover body into the bathroom and gulp water from the faucet. 

These bright pictures I am painting of my new lease on life, my new job, my new world– are not going to materialize if I continue to drink so heavily. 

My ideal morning schedule which I developed yesterday allows plenty of time to exercise, eat breakfast, walk the dogs– but this morning– when I had all the time in the world– facing the day consisted of dragging myself, nauseated, into the kitchen to gulp lukewarm coffee, smoke cigarettes and try to feel like a human again. A joint helped, and then I got into this frenzied writing. If I weren’t concentrating about overdrinking I probably would have had a couple of Jack Daniels by now.