One Good Life | Diary of an Addict

Suckered you in with that attention-grabbing headline, didn’t I? Before you get your undies in a bunch, I figure I’d better ‘fess up. Sadly for the salaciousness of this blog, no one in my immediate circle is a drug addict. (At least not that I know of – though I could make a couple of guesses as to who would win the “most likely” award…)

That’s not to say I’ve not been around it. After growing up “Clairemont” and spending my 20s trotting out with an assemblage of professional skaters, a notable band and a heaping handful of sick and twisted animators and artists, I rather thought myself an expert as to what drugs are all about.

That was until I read James Frey’s supposedly autobiographical A Million Little Pieces, and the difference between user and abuser was made abundantly clear.

Of course, come to find out, big hunks of this book were fabricated. Which is something a slimebag, money-hungry author would do - upping the drama to up sales. But why is this a surprise? He's a drug addict and felon, people!

If only he'd done the "based on my life" and not actually posited it as an autobiography. Then I wouldn't feel like such a dupe for reading (and believing) this book.

I won't be pulling that kind of crap, here. I hereby pledge that you will be awed by the monotony of my drug-free existence all on its own merit.

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