Drunk and Depressed
When I was a young man, I began searching for the meaning of life. Along the way, I wrote a travel journal, a mix of prose and poetry, and labelled it Fool’s Odyssey.
My life of joyful hedonism had stood me up. I’d gone searching for truth or, barring that, at least an excellent substitute. But so far I’d found neither. My life of happy materialism had lasted six days. My life of decadent sensualism, a day. My lives were getting shorter.
And now, sitting in that Paris café and drinking too much wine, I thought back on my failed loves. Or rather my failed loving.
I remembered living with my girlfriend in L.A., and drinking a lot of wine because we were 20. But the wine always made her sad, she said, because it reminded her she couldn’t trust me. Although I never was unfaithful with my feet. Only my head. She said there was no difference.
And then, like the wine, she grew too familiar. After she moved out, I did everything I could to be deep: Smoked a pipe and drank whisky. Typed a lot of poems. Watched things I hated on television until three in the morning. But the vacuum was on in my heart even then, and nothing could fill it.
I tried to remember her face, but her features had already begun to fade. Like a primitive polaroid, an instant picture with no depth of field.
And the wine? It was never really anything more than a reminder of how I already felt. If I felt good, then great. But if I felt lousy, it got inside my head and ran around shouting, “Boy, you sure feel lousy!”
So I tried pot, but that was only a variation on a theme (so much for the age of Aquarius). It either made me hungry or afraid of my own thoughts, or both. At which point I began to consume myself.
And the taste of myself was very bitter.
I mean, how could I like myself when I didn’t even know who I was? Sure, I might be a pearl, but then again I might just be an abandoned retread in some forgotten dump. Although I’d never really believed in reincarnation. I mean, how could you get it right if you didn’t know what you did wrong last time?
I felt like spiritual vagrant.
“What of laughter?” the Wise Man asked.
“It is madness.
And of mirth?
What is it for?
So I sought to draw my flesh with wine
that I might discover what happiness was.
But instead, I saw only madness in my heart
and evil, while I lived.
And after that?
Only death.”
Ecclesiastes 2:3 (paraphrased)
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Mitch Teemley 
Well written, Mitch. I can relate to all of that.
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Thanks, brother.
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Welcome. It’s those moments when I’m reminded of the incredibly bad decisions I made long ago that make me appreciate the grace and mercy of Jesus all the more. I should be dead thousands of times over, and yet, He sees fit to continue allowing me to live. I have no words for how humbling that is.
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Spiritual Vagrant is like being in the the caterpillar stage. I remember it well but with way less travel. Looking for wings to fly in the wrong places.
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Oh, I gotta share this one.
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Feel free to, Joy.
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Deeply touching and familiar.
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Thank you, I’m so glad it spoke to you.
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Looking for enlightenment in all the wrong places. We all have done it and hopefully we learned.
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A lack of confidence in who we are and what we stand for can have bad consequences, I made the same journey years ago due to a less than ideal upbringing.
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Who among us have not been unfaithful in our heads – we are human.
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“I mean, how could I like myself when I didn’t even know who I was?”
(And how could you know who you were without knowing your Creator?)
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what a fascinating journey..curiously Mitch can I read this odyssey on my short story podcast ?
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The whole thing, Matt, or just a section or two of it?
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ideally the whole journey…I could do it in multiple episodes
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I’m in the midst of revising it from an earlier version, and don’t expect to finish it for a long time to come. So I’m afraid I could only OK your using a section or two, Matt.
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Ok, are any parts fair game or what do you prefer I tackle ?
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Not “fair game,” no. Pick a couple you’d like to read, Matt, and let me know. I monitor readings of my work more closely than reblogs. Thanks for asking.
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Ok how about this most recent section, it intrigued me enough to go back to the beginning. It’s an incredibly thoughtful piece.
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Thank you, Matt. There’s quite a bit left to post, actually.
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ok, so is that a yes or no ?
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Sorry, Matt, thought I was clear before. Pick a couple you’d like to read, and let me know.
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were you & dad drinking a lot of wine when they were the age of your father when he passed away?
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No, Rudy, my father and I never drank wine, or any other alcohol, together. He died of a heart attack while at work. The incident in the cafe (above) happened about five years later.
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how old was he
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45.
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what i meant have you drink when you were that age
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Sorry, I don’t understand your question, Rudy. I was 27 when I visited Europe (in the story above).
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where have you visited at age 52
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I visited Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia the year I turned 52, Rudy.
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have you read the bible
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Of course, Rudy, many times.
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can i request a blog with ezekiel 47:55 i comment on that clap n shout
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There is no Ezekiel 47:55, Rudy. Ezekiel 47 doesn’t have that many verses.
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which chapter in ezekiel is long
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Why don’t you look through the book of Ezekiel and find out for yourself, Rudy? Do you read the Bible?
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yes as for the chapters of isaiah i posted
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“Although I never was unfaithful with my feet. Only my head. She said there was no difference.” LOL. I heard of that argument before.
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Such memories…but look where they brought you and where you ended up! I can relate…that lifestyle never did much for me either!
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The checkers in your checkered past. I share some of them. Sure glad it is not how you start, but how you finnish. Well written honesty. Amen.
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Very scenic and a captivation of
real life moments.💞💫
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Good Read
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Hmm, you tried to fill the emptiness with wine and whiskey and pot and what not. These can make the leap to cross the river of loneliness even harder. Hope you are feeling better today. Wishing you happy times.
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I am, thank you, Sharda; that was a long time ago. The story doesn’t end here.
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