The Drinking Lamp is lit

Hello. My name is Patrick, and I am a drinker, an alcoholic. I'm in my mid-40s, and started imbibing when I was 15. Couple beers in the woods with my pal John and a couple of girls -- with whom we did not score, tellingly.

The name of this blog comes from my days in the Marine Corps (don't worry, I'm not a gung-ho, hoo-rah type -- I was only in the service for four years, it was almost 20 years ago, and I don't have, say, a crew cut or USMC tatts). As the Marines are part of the Navy, they take their terminology from ship jargon. The floor is the "deck," the wall is a "bulkhead," the bathroom is the "head," etc.



When breaks came -- after drills, or during regular work shifts, or even when on maneuvers in the field -- you were allowed to smoke when the ranking sergeant or officer proclaimed, "The smoking lamp is lit." There was no actual smoking lamp. Like many things in the Corps and the Navy, it was language passed down by tradition.


It is my intention with this blog to illuminate some things regarding my condition, alcoholism. Hence, the Drinking Lamp. The Drinking Lamp is lit.

I don't care what we talk about. Drinking or not drinking is fine. Nothing should be off-limits: treatment, rehabs, the hatred of rehabs and treatment, the best beers, AA, NA, a really fun time had while drunk, a totally horrible time influenced by the sauce. A nice pinot noir, or a life ruined. A pleasant Corona buzz on the beach or a DUI that claimed lives.

I don't drink anymore, but I don't want to exclude people who do. I miss a nice Guinness. I miss light reds with pasta. I don't miss blackouts or getting sick and saying mean things to my wife which I don't recall the next day. But that's just me. We all have our different stories, our different lives. I'd love to hear about yours.


How long have I been sober? I don't believe in the whole "counting days" thing (the subject for an early post here, I hope), but I can tell you that as of today -- Feb. 20, 2011 -- it's been less than a year.  

I've been to rehab. Three times. I learned a lot. I went to a very good place. It is testament, in fact, to how tough this disease is that I went to a very good place and still ended up there thrice. But I think it has finally taken. Perhaps in time I'll reveal where I went.

And that reminds me of another thing that will make for a good post. I do believe -- now -- that alcoholism, like all addictions to substances, is a disease. It wasn't always that way. There's some proof in this post that it is a disease, in my mind. I regularly vomit and become mean while drunk, yet I profess to missing a nice Guinness or a full-bodied cabernet sauvignon. The fact is that I've never had one Guinness in my life. It's always 10 or 12. As for wine, anything less than two bottles for myself is generally a disappointment.

So this is a blog about drinking, by an alcoholic. I want to examine, with your help, the enormous paradox that is booze, on all kinds of scales.