... ..ostrich ....March 18, 2005   For several months, I have been intensely disinterested in reading anything I write.  My insights fatigue me.  Turning a phrase merely turns my stomach.  But I am physically ill right now and the fever compels me. I approach the seventh anniversary of my decision to stop drinking.  With every passing year, the sobriety becomes less glamorous, less heroic.  I do not have a seven year itch, but I am rubbed raw at times, as though someone forgot to remove a tag. I hardly notice myself anymore.  This is mainly good since it means the vestiges of booze-fueled narcissism have evaporated.  I cannot help but feel, however, that some worthwhile portion of me has also evaporated.  But it's only a vague impression and, to my mind, not worth further inquiry.  One may argue with the ostrich's method, but never its results. previous..|..current..|..archives..|..1st quarter index..|..next

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