Before I quit drinking, I liked to think of myself as Dorothy Parker or Hunter S. Thompson. I romanticized myself as a hard-drinking, savvy writer. And, for a while, that seemed to work. Drinking, after all, gave me an alter ego par excellence. I was the rock star at every party, nightclub, and living room I wafted into, happily singing or dancing like life was meant only for such pursuits. I was ready to see any evening through until dawn, to wear sequins and glitter if necessary, and to laugh until black eyeliner ran down my face. My favorite word was “subversive,” and my favorite humor was cruel. Every day was rough, but every night was Saturday.
-The Faster Times
