You're Not Immune

Booze is a crazy thing. It feels like you can conquer anything but at the same time sap your energy up and make you not even take the first step.

Remember when prohibition started? How there was a ban on the stuff and people went batty and they amended that? How crazy is it to think that for a block of time, it was illegal to drink. People find a way. Much like marijuana in today's world. People find ways to suspend reality.

Lately, I waned off the sauce. But the effects are unmistakable. Bloated face. Irritability. Anxiety. Dizzyness. It's all there. I just feel tired all the time. Have absolutely no thrill for things I use to be gaga over. These days, it's just "meh".

And that shocks me.

Because I use to have sensory recall, and would love revisiting certain memories of places. A few nights ago I took my date to my old apartment. The one I moved out of after 11 years. The less foggier version of me would've felt the impact of the memories that should've come flooding back. Instead, it was a dead calm. I looked at the front gates of the ol' apartment complex and maybe blinked once. I told her I had lived there for that many years. She was shocked. Mostly since that would've been over 40% of her life. I felt nothing. It was a dead shell of a memory.

What happened?

Does getting older make you less nostalgic. Or did all these years of booze filled nights just flush this history down the toilet. It got me thinking of people who get Alzheimer's. I think they think they should feel a certain way towards something or someone but they don't, and it gets really frustrating.

I would've never thought of the many years I've spent absorbing the gravity of my existence in Los Angeles, that those would not yield a modicum of fond memories. Instead...blank.

Much like as I'd mentioned...I think I should feel a certain way, but I didn't.

Maybe that was why I hung on to alcohol so long. It was to quell those sad thoughts. But the side effects was that they also squashed the good memories. Now I have a few memories. Which consist of the day I moved from the place. And mostly because there is video to accompany it. The man in the vid is a stranger though. It's a different era of me.

I seemed to have turned my back on my own history. Which is fine. Since I don't feel much about it anyway. And it's weird since I think I should feel a certain way towards it, but it doesn't register. I'm probably losing it. But as my sister once said, if you recognize that you're crazy, you're not.