“Nobody quite knows which drink it is that takes him over the edge of being merely a social or haughty, laughing drinker into a morose hungover wretched creature. Shakes and creaks and sweats and has nightmares and it’s always November and it’s raining and it’s three o’clock in the morning and there’s nowhere to go and you reach out for a cigarette and smoke and think of all the horrible things you’ve done in your life and all the shame all the shames you endured and suffer and the shame you gave other people no all the wrongs you’ve done other people.”
I always wanted to be mystified by it all – and rather fascinated with life itself. I think maybe when you drink, you’re probably robbing yourself of that genuine experience, even though it appears what you’re doing is getting more of it. You’re getting less of it. And it takes a while, when you’ve had a rock on the hose like that for so long. It takes a while for the hose to be a hose again, you know, and for things to start flowing.
The above link seems to have died. Here’s the reddit post where link was found: