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The Artist as a Drunk
It’s
day
5
of
my
sobriety,
and
I
continue
to
white
knuckle
through.
Wish
I
could
say
it
was
getting
easier,
but
I
still
want
a
drink!
Instead,
I’m
hopped
up
on
coffee
this
morning.
I’m
a
writer
by
profession,
and
I’ve
been
thinking
a
lot
about
how
alcohol
and
the
image
of
the
artist
go
hand
in
hand.
There’s
the
stereotype
of
the
artist
as
a
drunk
or
junkie—angst-ridden,
starving
for
one’s
art,
struggling
emotionally.
So
many
great
artists
and
intellectuals
have
been
addicts
of
one
variety
or
the
other
and
have
created
great
works
of
art
in
some
drug-induced
haze.
I’m
not
one
of
them.
Sometimes,
I
could
write
when
I
was
drinking,
but
other
times,
I
was
just
more
contented,
after
a
few
drinks,
with
not
writing.
Still,
that
image
of
the
artist
and
drug-induced
creativity
lingers
in
my
mind,
morphing
into
some
kind
of
glamorous
image
of
addiction.
It’s
like
sometimes
I
want
to
drink
because
it
seems
like
some
natural
tendency
for
me
as
an
artist.
I’m
working
to
change
this
image
in
my
mind,
to
disassociate
alcohol
and
drugs
from
my
identity
as
an
artist,
to
divorce
my
addiction
from
creative
process.
Wish
me
luck!
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