A sort of life

Caught in the web of addiction

RICHMOND, Va. — Open the icebox, but — w-wa-wait: it’s not steady. Don’t let it rock as you pull the door. The neighbors are sleeping, and it’s awful late. Go on now, I’ve got a terrible hunger.

What’s inside? What have we got?

An empty pitcher of water, here, a shelf of condiments. A squirt of mustard, a spoon of mayo. Would that hit the spot? Here’s a tub of organic, sugarless peanut butter. It tastes like ass.

Oh look: I’ve got some milk below. Oops, the carton’s empty. That’s embarrassing. How about this: an open can of Campbell’s chunky chowder? It’s only been open about a week. I popped the top before I figured out it wasn’t hunger I was feeling bubbling in my stomach.

What’s that you say? Botulism you say? No I feel fine, really. Here. Smell.

Oh — yeah. I probably should toss that out. Clearly that’s no good. That’s murder on the nostrils. Wow.

How about a pizza? Let’s call out. Mushrooms, olives?

I’ve got blisters on my fingers. My nails are bit back. I haven’t done that in a while. Ate a whole box of cereal today: breakfast, lunch and dinner. But still I had the urge to bite. Stress, that’s what it is. Finances, and future and such things. The ladies sitting in my lap.

I’m lonely these days. I’ve got a real desire to get a dog. But I wont. I can’t. The dog would starve because I would neglect it. It’s the same reason I don’t want a kid. One day maybe, but these days I’ve got enough to worry about. Lonely will just have to suffice. I am not alone.

WASHINGTON — I’m saddened to hear about the death of Ed Bradley, veteran newsman and jazz devotee. He had a butter voice, and was considered one of the best interviewers in the business. He spent 25-years at 60 Minutes, and I was there every Sunday for 23 of them.

He was a rare breed — a breed of journalist that 60 Minutes has exclusive title of. There’s Mike Wallace, and Andy Rooney and soon too, they will pass. But Ed was first. And at 65-years, Ed was the youngest. He was the best.

And I am sad today. Read the New York Times obituary, or the obituary from the Washington Post.

“Caught in the web of addiction” is from Volume One: Frank’s Wild Years (1983–2009). Written between 2003 and 2009, Volume One was this author’s attempt to find meaning from life as a young twenty-something. While this endeavor would ultimately fail, what remains is a comical tale of loneliness and debauchery.

A day to reflect, atone

A day to reflect, atone

Jenny De Soto reflects on life after college during a short visit home to Vienna, Va. on September 5, 2010.