. . . From the Notebook of an Alcoholic
I AM looking back to that day in P-- when I tried to put into practice that familiar admonition, count your blessings. But I had said to myself, I have no blessings. I cannot think of a single one. Oh sure, I'm alive. But what's the good of being alive? I have a deep hangover, I'm sick, I don't see any prospect for myself; no future but to go on drinking and drifting until it ends.
I try things. I have tried everything--patent medicines, patent diets, patent religions. Nothing works. A few weeks ago a friend inveigled me into doing charity work in the mental patients ward...
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New York City