“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” –
A traditional, comfort drink – the Highball. Whiskey and ginger ale. It’s a lovely shade of amber, filled with fizz and clinking ice cubes, as it rests on the windowsill in the filtered winter sun. On this Christmas afternoon, I sit in my brother and sister-in-law’s home, where we’ll be having the holiday dinner in a few hours. Until then, there’s the highball. Family continues to arrive, the kids and dogs roam the floor, and a fire crackles in the fireplace, spewing wood smoke back into the room. A cozy scene with a cozy drink – all warmth and bonhomie and holiday spirit and in the midst of it all my senseless brain indicating loneliness and melancholy and a disconnect from everything that’s going on around me.
Surrounded by the people who love me the most, the people who love me unconditionally because we are family, I still feel like my one true companion is nestled in my hand, giving strength when called upon, and numbness when necessary. Soon, the golden liquid courses through my veins, traveling along the bloodstream, and warming me from the inside out. Cocooned and bound within myself by ropes of liquid fire.
{‘FireWater’ is a project from 2009 that has gone unposted until now.}
[See also Scene 1: Bourbon Street, New Orleans
Scene 2: College Ave, Ithaca, NY
Scene 3: Union Square, San Francisco
Scene 4: Boston & Provincetown
Scene 5: Braddock Park, Boston, MA
Scene 6: Times Square, New York
Scene 7: Tapas & Tinis, Ogunquit, Maine
Scene 8: Hollywood Brown Derby, Albany, NY
and Scene 9: Holiday Cocktail Hour, Albany, NY.]
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