Whose Chemistry is it?

The agony of a blank page. Yeah, it sucks. I can tell you that. A writer lives to write, to have his finger tickle the keys of a keyboard. That's what they live for. If they aren't doing that, then they aren't working. I'm tickling, whether I want to or not.

"Tell me, did you socialize at the wine and cheese party?" Dr. L. asks. Not really. I stayed to the side. "Well, at least you were in the room." It was a hallway. She nods. "So your brother went around and did most of the talking?" Yep. He's the one that knew someone there and then was introduced to others. "Did you eventually go up to them?" Well...they kinda came around to me. And I didn't drink either! I am happy to inform her of that. "Wow," she is wide eyed for a moment. "The joy's of NALTRAXONE!" Yeah, thank God for modern science. I'll tell you, if I had a couple of shots in me, I would have worked the room myself.

"I see," she says. I mean it. I can see now why the great writers drank. There was just too much socializing and networking involved. "Well, have you ever though that some people like socializing and networking?" No, I shake my head, somewhat surprised with myself. I never thought of it that way. I never did. But still alcohol plays a role in their lives. "Was there something, like a passing thought that still wanted a drink? Or was it a strong desire?" It was a passing thought. "And you fought if off. Some part of you decided that you didn't want to drink." Yeah, you can say that.

Some part of me doesn't want to drink any longer. I tell her that I plan to cut back on the NAL- TRAXONE once I'm out from under the thumb of the Box. "Now why," she crosses her legs. "Would you do that?" For control. I want to control what and how much I drink. I want to be the one in charge. I want to cut back on it just enough so that I can have a drink when I want, but not drink too much. "Well, I don't think it works like that. You can't just take enough of THIS drug to counteract THAT reaction. Plus your own biochemistry comes into play."

My Biochemistry. Can I really call it 'my biochemistry' now? Fifteen or more pills every morning. I'm pouring chemicals into my bloodstream like a team of scientists would do a lab rat. I understand that I need a assload of drugs for my heart. I remember, just after my Congestive Heart failure, I had a barrel of pills given to me and a grim diagnosis. But by pounding down those pills and staying away from certain things and bulking up on the others, I was able to save my soul.

I understand the need, but do I need them all?? Maybe I can do without a few, as long as I don't see any blonde women. The ALLOPURINOL I'm going to keep on taking without a doubt. I know what will happen if I stop taking that shit. The Gout. Which feels like somebody driving a nail through the knuckle of my big toe.

"That's an ailment that's usually associated with the lifestyle of the well off," Dr. L says with a smile. "You have the sickness of the rich." Well, then that's God's way of evening things out with the poor. Unbelievable pain in the foot for having a fortune. It just goes to show that in my vacuous life, which I have nothing, I'm punished like someone living in excess. Ain't that some shit?? It occurred to me that I've been given the short end of the stick again. I'll take the money over the pain any day. If I'm going to suffer from the rich man's ailment, make it money.

Sorry to get all materialistic on your there. I don't have that kind of love for money. But damn, I could use a few hundred thousand if anyone has anything like that.

After my therapy I chill at the library for a spell, and then head over to my favorite joint. Starbucks. I watch the myriad patrons arrive and leave, with an almost mechanical efficiency. There is a table of women near us, four to be exact, and they are literally talking into each other's faces. It's as if they're shouting at each other, with all four of their noses touching. And their mouths are just spilling words, a goddamn glossolalia.

It time for me to leave. I grab my gear, say goodbye to my brother and head to the Way. I'm back at the Box before I know it. I'm ready for some sleep. I'm tired. Again.

Hobobob