Alcohol destroys my will to blog

Somehow, last week at a conference I managed to get into about a bottle of free Chivas Regal. Very poor decision making indeed. There are a number of people out in my work realm who know me, and probably know me a little better after that night. Hopefully they chocked it up the natural affinity between whiskey and reporters. Call it Gonzo tech journalism —  Hunter S. Thompson does data centers.

As ridiculous as the night’s events apparently were (as recounted to me by others), I haven’t yet suffered any career-ending fallout. That said, I still haven’t recovered. I must have literally poisoned my psyche — that’s all I can figure. Flying home from this business trip, floating in a sterile tube 30,000 feet over the continent, I felt hollow and tired.

Crusing through my 30th birthday festivities, I waved to the crowd, drank beers on autopilot, threatened to knock a guy out at a local bar (without really meaning it) — dislocated, strange behavior.

I’m half way through three great books, but the weight of them is more stimying than inspiring (Nicholas Carr’s Big Switch, John Geirach’s Death Taxes and Leaky Waders, and Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal Vegetable Miracle… if you’re interested).

I’m weeding the garden, doing some fishing, going through the motions on the work and fly fishing blogs. One of my blog heroes, BP came down and we had an awesome afternoon tooling around my house, and beating some common sense into my brain.

But the big picture, the “My Life at 30” promises to myself to run, write (and I mean, write — not blog) just aren’t materializing. I’m actually snapping awake in the morning and hour earlier, thinking “I should go do something”, but I don’t. And for now, I’m blaming it on the scotch until I snap out of it.

Enjoy a random photo of my cat Chester. His nuerosis and complete lack of attention span are like a mirror image of my mind:
Chester in a box


About mstansberry

Matt Stansberry currently lives in Eugene, Oregon with his wife and son.
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6 Responses to Alcohol destroys my will to blog

  1. Bpaul says:

    Ethanol is hard on brain function, I find. Sometimes for days afterwards 🙂 The Wife didn’t drink while in school and found her attention span and ability to concentrate were much improved.

    As for blogging being writing… I do understand the important distinction between “informal extemporaneous writing” that blogging often is with us (basically verbal communication through a keyboard) and “real writing” you *can* combine them. Look at our mutual blog hero over at Astoria Rust — he writes, like really writes, that blog.

    It could be a good entryway drug to “real’ writing to stiffen up the blog writing. Or that’s what I’m telling myself at least 🙂

  2. Bpaul says:

    Holy hell in a handbasket, I both used smiley faces AND had them translated into cartoons on your blog.

    someone shoot me in the face, it’s been too long a day.

  3. David says:

    Listen man, I almost have that FROM THE ROAD BOOK done. Hopefully I’ll have it in my hands by the time I get out there.

    Start writing and we’ll start publishing. Or just start writing. I need some good things to read.

    Oregon, I am on my way.

  4. onemuleteam says:

    As far as all time great threat lines go “If you hit me with another peanut I’ll knock you the f*&*& out” is firmly esconsced just below “Make my day” on the classics list.

    As for the rest of it, I think you have some good writing brewing–you must as painfully introspective as some of these recent Upstream posts have been.

  5. Guy says:

    Somehow turning 30 wakes up the mortality awareness in all. Add to that it takes you four times longer to get over a night of partying than it did when you turned 20. By the time you are 50 you will only drink sparkling cider.

  6. Amy says:

    First of all, please tell Chester that I’m over him. In typical tomcat fashion, he spends one night with me, and won’t have another thing to do with me in the morning. It’s taken me some time to move on, but the picture… it’s just too painful…

    Though I can’t speak for you after a night of Chivas Regal, I can speak to times spent with you and Uncle Overold, and well… I can only imagine. But hey, we’re still friends, you’re hard not to love Mattie, so I’m sure the jobbie folks will keep you ’round.

    I wish you luck in your writing at 30… you see how well it’s gone for me, I’m the star in attention span theater fo’sho…
    I don’t blame the scotch, I blame the friggin weather. Where the hell is the sun?! I hope you got some down in the ‘Gene, cuz Portland is seriously lacking in that department.

    And I’m not commenting on you shooting the birds out of your bathroom window. Put that no good Chester to work!

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