i try to be in the moment, but the moment is fraught, and crowded. drinking was a method of drowning the human voices that said nothing good to me. i saw a doc on sterling hayden last night after asphalt jungle. we was drunk on a barge in a canal in some french village. he just went up and down the canal, getting drunk. he was still haunted by the un-american activities debacle, and hated 57 of his 60 movies. he had so much going for him, but as he said lots of suicides do. though he thought he didn't. he wasn't coherent and had an operatic range of tics to compensate. i'd like to jettison all concern about coherence myself, and be host to a bubbly ambrosia of charming thoughts. that didn't happen, but i'm not on a barge drinking myself to death. though if you took away all the pain and self-loss it would be a charming set-up.