If you wear that velvet dress

Morning, day two, meeting three at noon. Hallucinations now--hearing people who aren't there say bad things to me. Other than that, a dead calm, like fog on the moor. I can't see forwards or backward, only today...and that isn't the AA mantra talking; it's how I feel. Today, fortunately, I have shit to do.

But I feel like I did when Dante died; I feel like something has been suddenly unplugged and will never be replaced. What a lousy comparison, I know--Dante was dearer to me than drinking...but drinking killed him, more or less, and I didn't see it coming. Now, all of the sudden, I am faced with the prospect of never drinking again, and it seems that a part of me is gone for good. A bad part, a good part, I don't know. Dexter calls it "the dark passenger." I'm sure someone else calls it that...or that the phrase originates outside of the show, at least, but that's the first place I heard it.

I'm making myself write in the morning and in the evening about this. About nothing. I don't feel much right now, so my writing will suffer. All the anger that has fueled it for so long is dormant, and the joy that often sends me to the page has also leaked out somewhere.

Otherwise, it's a beautiful, beautiful day outside. Scooter ride to a meeting, and from there, who knows.