The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson

"Adulthood came through with none of the pledges you'd been led somehow to believe in; the future still remained the future-illusion; a non-existent period of constantly-receding promise, hinting fulfillment, yet forever withholding the rewards. All the things that had never happened yet were never going to happen after all. It was a mug's game and there ought to be a law. But there wasn't any law, there was no rhyme or reason; and with the sour-grapes attitude of “Why the hell should there be”- which is as near as you ever came to sophistication- you retired within yourself and compensated for the disappointment by drink, by subsisting on daydreams, by living in a private world of your own making (hell or heaven, what did it matter?), by accomplishing or becoming in fancy what you could never bring about in fact."

 Especially in the last two years it was one of my past-times to enjoy books about drinking. I've read through Bukowski, Fallada and many others but compared to most this one was very good with a succinct and subtle psychology to it. I can recommend it; this could also very well mark an erstwhile end to my Sturm und Drang hard-liquored drinking career since recently and surprisingly even to myself it tends to bore me. From now on I want to read more philosophy again and today made this resolve: I will- as far as I can- drink half a bottle of red wine every day of my remaining life. Red wine is always a good investment be your future luck up or down, it will always satisfy you but only if you will drink it and never speculate with it.