Sober Chronicles, Day 1

I'm not drinking in August, 2020 for lots of reasons. One is that I can hopefully raise money for a prostate cancer charity, and that is a good reason in itself.

Secondly, and probably as important if not more so, I have been getting drunk at home for little reason aside from I can. This is not the fun drinks with mates, or at the footy, or anything. It's not even really a lovely glass of wine with a lovely meal, because that lovely glass turns into a bottle and another one and then asleep on the sofa with YouTube re-runs of Andy Kaufman blurbitating on unseen.

I dunno, it's easy to get preachy isn't it. There are lots and lots of 'reasons' to drink. I mean, look at the UK. Brek-fucking-shit, the Tories fucking everything up, lying and getting away with it, and blaming the people instead. AND PEOPLE IN TURN VOTING FOR THE TORIES ANYWAY. Jesus fuck. Pass the Motor Oil and Absinth, I want to get obliterated.

Aye, if only that meant that the hangover came with any change. Which it doesn't, does it? So that's not a valid reason.

I think hangovers are very interesting, psychologically, particularly if they're an aftermath-of-a-binge-toward-oblivion. What they do is make you feel ultra-shitty, maybe a bit paranoid, physically and mentally battered.

Now, considering all of that I wonder if, also, the hangover is the self-flaggelation that is acceptable to society here. Nothing else really is acceptable in the same way. And, so, the hangover is punishment for the drinking-to-forget-ness. It is part of the self-loathing deal, and serves as an avatar for the real issue, which in my case is probably something like "I could do more to change the narrative. Why am I not more politically active? Why have I not led my life more aggressively? When I was 17 I was convinced that I would, one way or another".

All of that is wrapped up in a headache and a tummy ache and a bravado that says, and I say regularly: "If you can't deal with a hangover don't drink". I castigate people for feeling shit in the mornings, and tell them to get the fuck on with it. I mean, that's kind of an arsehole attitude isn't it.

I've just read the Allen Carr 'Easy Way' stop drinking book. When I stopped smoking, his smoking book helped me reprogramme myself hugely, because I realised:

* If I really concentrated on smoking a cigarette, I could work out whether I enjoyed it or not.

That was basically it. And, I realised, no, I don't really like this all that much. So I stopped (with patches, and willpower, and writing a book, and splitting up with a reasonably long-term-ish girlfriend). Not exactly a calm period in my life, but I can say that the book has sold more than any of my other ones by miles, and is now in its third edition (I anticipate another update in the next 24 months). 

There is a difference here, though. The Carr/drinking book insists on diminishing booze as a poison. It does not acknowledge the difference between the epicural and the alcohol itself. What is difficult here is that I am not convinced that there are no benefits to be had from the taste - and the effect - of some high-quality drinks. Rioja and cheese. Wonderful. A tot of smoky Talisker, that burns on the way down in a way that warms and makes you shudder at the same time. It's a much more visceral thing than Carr insists.

There is a lot of truth in the ideas he recycles from the smoking book though, mostly:

* Think about the ritual of smoking (drinking). You have to go to the shop and buy it. Maybe getting freezing cold. It costs you a load of cash. And then you feel like shit and you stink.

In other words, it's easier not to go through all of that. To not go to the shop, to stay warm, to keep your dosh and to feel better, and not stink of smoke.

So there's something in that isn't there, which I am thinking about deeply. It's all about the logic here. And I know I stopped smoking after a 10-year binge of filterless rollies and a fair amount of weed now and then. So, y'know. This isn't unprecedented.

Actually the parallels with weed are stronger than with fags. I don't like the effects of being stoned and useless; there's a part of my brain that can't abandon itself to what really is an oblivion blanket, and it taunts and irritates me when I'm trying to slob about. So I don't really ever smoke weed. But there is also a subjective mind-altering side, which I think Carr completely underplays in his metaphors about drunken plane pilots and the like. 

There is something primal about altered states and I doubt sincerely whether there's anyone on the planet who hasn't spun round and round til they got dizzy and giggly as a kid. Or done yoga. Or meditated. Or whatever. Different ways to the same land is all they are. The land of not-this-one. 

I spose writing could be part of that too. Reading, and writing.

So that's Day 1 - it's 1pm and I've thought of nothing else for most of today. Inevitable and of course a bit tragic but I forgive myself for it cause it's absolutely part of the process. There's one part of the evening - about 6-8pm - where I need to change my behaviour the most. That's the dodgy part of the day when I have been going to the shop for some wine or whatever. And, well. Now I have to do something else don't I.

You're getting a lot for your buck if you sponsor me, I think. I'm not just stopping alcohol for a month, I'm thinking about my relationship to the world too. Yabadabadoooooooo.