I’m an alcoholic, and let me tell you something no one else will tell you: alcoholism is cool. It’s just really, really cool. F. Scott Fitzgerald and Dylan Thomas and Jack Kerouac were alcoholics, and those dudes are cool as hell. Jackson Pollock was an alcoholic. Do you know how fucking cool Jackson Pollock is? Ed Harris made a movie about him! His paintings sell for hundreds of millions of dollars! He’s in the Met!
The syllogism goes like this: they’re all alcoholics; they’re all geniuses; I’m an alcoholic; I must be a genius. That’s just the transitive property. You can’t argue with math.
Also, I love cats. Do you know who else loved cats? Philip K. Dick. (And a bunch of others.) The brilliant, bonkers, beloved Philip K. Dick. The dude with three different Library of America volumes.
John Lennon was a bit of neat-freak. I’m a neat-freak! I’m practically John Lennon.
And van Gogh had depression! So do I! I must be as brilliant as van Gogh! I must be. I must be. Please, God, I must be. Please please please. I must be. Right?!
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