Stories of Weird Mystery

Month: March 2021

I’m Like a Chocoholic, but for Caffeine

[Full credit for the headline due to this wonderful Onion article.]

My professor of Poe Studies in my senior year at UF, Dr. William Goldhurst, told us that Poe could well have been allergic or oversensitive to alcohol because usually it took only a drink or two to completely addle his senses. Other scholars may not go that far, but many agree that he drank relatively rarely but it fucked him up when he did.

I drink way less, perhaps two six packs of Angry Orchard and two bottles of Jameson’s a year (not all at once), and mostly it puts me to sleep. For much of my early life, I was afraid of even trying alcohol because of my father’s dependence, but when I think back on it, I wonder if he wasn’t actually BETTER when he drank: less anxious and angry, anyway. He may well have drunk so much to self-medicate his undiagnosed anxiety disorder.

I’ve got Wellbutrin for that, so score one for science.

Both my parents smoked heavily, though my father managed to quit about twenty years before he died. My mother never could, and we’re pretty sure that’s what got her in the end.

I bring all of this up because I seem fortunate to be almost entirely free of damaging addictions, which will likely disappoint scholars of my work.

Almost entirely free.

This is going to sound entirely ridiculous and perhaps insulting to people with real addictions, but I sincerely think that caffeine grabs me and damages me more than it does most people.

No, I’m not a Mormon.

When I was a kid, soda was what I drank when I was thirsty instead of water, and I went through a 2 liter bottle probably every couple of days. In college, Coke and milk were the priorities at the store with whatever cash I could scrounge, and since then, I’ve tried to quit countless times. Once I made it nearly two years, but more usually my pauses last a few months at most.

This is me at eighteen with a bottle of Coke in one hand and a tube of Orajel for the painful cavities in the other. Addict life, baby!

I think I forget just what caffeine does to me and therefore think it harmless when I need a quick jolt of “inspiration.” So (more for me than for you), I’m listing its effects out here for my future reference.

  • It makes me shaky and fidgety, changing my handwriting and fucking up anything that requires fine motor control.

  • It gives me this constant low grade feeling that things are Going Wrong Somewhere, or that I’m in trouble, or that I’m out of control of my life.

  • It provides that jolt of inspiration for only the first three times of using it, after which it has little effect.

  • It leads me to weirdly totalizing thoughts about the world, taking one bad moment or circumstance and reacting to it as a sign of a malignant universe.

  • It makes my heart rate quicken and blood pressure increase so much that I can see my vision pulsating when I sit still.

  • When I try to quit, I have one day of headaches and about a week of depression and muddled thinking.

  • One of the things I would tell myself in the distant past is, “You have anxiety disorder, and caffeine makes it much worse.” That sentence alone would have revolutionized twenty years of my life.

I’m on day six of no caffeine, and I’m beginning to feel better again. I just have to remember this blog post when I’m tempted by the allure of one exciting (and probably delusional) writing session.

In Which I Go Old School

Well, it’s been thirteen years so I guess the truth can be told.

I entered Jacksonville’s abandoned Public School Number Four with two accomplices thirteen years ago today, and we took pictures of the site as we explored.

I’ve been there a few times over the years, but it has been badly damaged by fire and even I’m not brave enough to poke around there now.

Forever is Composed of Nows

My friend and publisher Steve Berman has started a new online periodical called Bachelors, and the first issue includes my story “Forever is Composed of Nows” among other good stories by people like Nick Mamatas and L.A. Fields.

The magazine, as you may discern from the cover image, is of particular interest to gay readers, and my story has a gay protagonist.

FAQ about my stories with gay protagonists:

Q: Are you…gay?

A: What’s it to you either way?

Q: Well, it makes me wonder if you’re, like, writing from the heart or jumping on the lucrative Big Queer bandwagon that’s driving down our reproductive rate in direct contradiction to the Lord’s insistence to fill a quiver of blessed crusading children.

A: Wow, you’re a weirdo and that’s not a question, but let me address it anyway in four bullets of escalating emotional importance:

  • The protagonists of my stories tend to be unusually perceptive and aware and imaginative outsiders wondering what to do in a world full of assholes…a struggle of particular pertinence to the LGBTQ community by ugly necessity.
  • In some of my stories such as “Acres of Perhaps” and “Forever is Composed of Nows,” I needed a particular kind of outsider with a particular kind of perception who would have a particular kind of emotional experience, and a straight person just didn’t fit because they can take too much acceptance for granted.
  • Though I wasn’t particularly homophobic as a kid – I got teased for being “gay” even though I wasn’t – I probably wasn’t the kind of person any of my closeted friends would have come out to without me being weird(er) and awkward(er). I want to be more welcoming now.
  • Many of the people I deeply care about identify as queer, and some of my stories are gifts to them.

Q: What do you know about the queer experience?

A: Not enough, but then, I don’t know enough about anybody else’s experience, either. I try to be a good ally to my friends, and for some reason, I identify strongly with people who don’t always feel safe being themselves. I don’t need a cookie for that.

Q: That slowly moving cottage in “Remembrance is Something Like a House”…

A: Totally gay.

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