I’d rather be Fat, Dumb, and Happy Than Manic, Drunk, and Douchey

It’s day 2 on Seroquel. I’m waIting to get my hair cut.  It may he helping. I’m just kind of chilled out…like fat, dumb, and happy.  Not exactly sharp as a tack, though. 

When I was drunk and unmedicated, my idol was Hank Moody from Californication. I thought that was my unavoidable destiny. Drunk, divorce, one meaningless relationship after another. I even smoked the same brand of cigarettes: Camel Blues.

I couldn’t see another life. I left my wife in part to spare her, I thought. I was worthless.  I was out of control. I was defeated.  I let all of the fight drain out of me.  In the end, a powerful bout with pneumonia and the grace of my wife saved me.

I worry that I’ll screw up my marriage for good one day. I’ll be just manic enough to let my guard down with some pretty someone at just the right time and at just the right place.  And I know what might very well become of me.  Hank Moody, shitty old Porsche, whiskey, women, and Camel Blues.


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