Thoughts about alcohol Teil des Episodenwerkes: A Drinker's Diary

  - Einleitung
  - Kapitel 1: Thoughts with alcohol
  - Kapitel 2: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 3: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 4: Thoughts with alcohol
  - Kapitel 5: Thoughts with and about alcohol
  - Kapitel 6: Thoughts with alcohol
  - Kapitel 7: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 8: Thoughts with alcohol
  - Kapitel 9: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 10: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 11: Thoughts about alcohol
  - Kapitel 12: Thoughts with alcohol
  - Kapitel 13: Deterioration
  - Kapitel 14: Gedanken mit John an meiner Seite.


Everything is silent. No snow falls now, no wind rushes through the streets.
The sun has come and gone, leaving the city frozen as its final gleam disappeared in the distance.
The dark is coming, yet everywhere candles of hope, love, joy and desire burn in the houses.
You might not see them, but a distant laugh in your neighbour’s apartment proves their existence, as you have just begun to doubt my word. A child in the stairway begins to beg the parents for a snowball fight, unaware of the terror and darkness, which wait outside.
Emptiness and silence slowly creep closer and closer, making their way up the stairs. “Please! Make the cold stop at someone else’s door, let it knock there and demand its inevitable entrance.”
Yet it passes the first flat and comes to the second. “Not today, today it will go to the third. I’ve been working since eight in the morning: I’ve actually managed to do a lot of reading and summarizing. My future looks bright and successful; I will surely become an ambassador one day.”
“Knock, knock.” Caught again, caught by the frozen hand of inevitability: “I smell weakness, you know” it whispers through the door. The house suddenly freezes and I seem to hear voices pleading me to make the monster disappear: My parents, my siblings, my friends and especially Marie.
The cold skull out there thinks he is invincible, yet he is wrong. One friend has stood by my side for many a year, one friend who knows how to help. He doesn’t ask much for his help. No, he is still cheap and available, only wants my promise of never ending friendship. I give him a few memories, he gives me warmth and happiness and protection from the frozen skull outside.
“Hurry to your brother in arms!” my unconsciousness screams and I follow the orders and quickly make for the window shelf in the kitchen.
But, as I reach out for my true and trusted friend once more, the bottle, with the beautiful Jack Daniels label, turns into a cruel voice: “I’ve got you at last.”