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.


Anmerkungen des Autors:
Born from silence, silence full of it
A perfect concert my best friend
So much to live for, so much to die for
If only my heart had a home
(Nightwish)


There is one entry I owe, before I will drink tomorrow. Tomorrow evening I will have passed my exam, will have completed one semester of studying law, but still do not know what to live for. Yet let’s finish this entry first: I was totally sick that morning; I didn’t feel like having guests over at night at all. Yet the appointment was made and so the first ones arrived. Of course they all brought liquor and beer, as I had told them to do so a couple days ago. And when we started chatting happily I wanted to drink as well. I called a friend, who was still on the way, and asked him to buy me a bottle of Vodka. He did and I finished it that night. Yet, I didn’t get drunk, just felt well and happy, contrary to a couple of my guests. It was a fun night, so I conclude that alcohol isn’t sure of the hold he has on me, because why give a dying man water. Mercenaries have nothing to live for, but at least something to die for. But not even a good cause for that is granted to me. There are no Kings to give your life for. There are no fights in the street, in which you could give your life for your love. There is nothing and I am beginning to believe that this is the problem of our Western society today. It’s not just the luxury we live in, it is the fact that too many don’t know for what to live or die. Many of these turn to drugs to have fun and to stop thinking about their irrelevance and, quoting me, by doing so “burn their hopes and dreams for nights on the rim of a toilet seat.” I am one of them, about many others’ suicides you can read in the papers. Recently someone pointed out to me that he prefers reading A Drinker’s Diary rather than A tale of never ending days. Why? Because there is still will to fight left in the diary’s chapters. But there isn’t. I have nothing to live for; I have nothing to die for. It is curious that when my mind is most poisoned I always try to save myself by sleeping on my side. I cannot choke on my vomit when I’m not drunk, but then I see no purpose in life. Do I need alcohol to survive? Or is this just another deathtrap?