Sobriety Anniversary (XXXI)

I had my vacation (from work) last week, and time slowed down. What I mean is, it seemed like a much, much longer week than an average work week—kind of a weird phenomenon—the exact opposite of what you’d think. I don’t understand it. If I didn’t visit you—well, I didn’t visit anyone. No money. Also, it was my “sobriety anniversary” (October 15)—31 years. Since that’s not a multiple of 10, I didn’t get a confetti cake or anything. What I did do was pick up a bottle of bourbon in the grocery story—I mean, in my hand, and feel the liquid in the glass bottle. Most brands (of bourbon) still exist, and they don’t change the labels, and thus retain a potential connection to the past. But is it? I realize that is just an illusion, but still, I’m about as close to going back to drinking as I ever was. It’s always possible (well, I don’t know about after death—I’ll let you know). So, it occurred to me that it’s time to finally get serious about not drinking. I’m going to stop visiting the liquor section at Metro Market every time I’m annoyed with them not having shopping baskets, or the one item I went to the store to buy (i.e., all the time). I’m going to stop visiting bars and taverns, 100%, no exceptions—even when I have a crush on the ID checker, bartender, or person singing on stage. But am I going to stop writing about drinking, in a fictional context, I mean? Well, I may not stop doing that, but I’m going to take it very, very seriously.

—Randy Russell 10.20.24