Dead Skin

GEORGE: I think you absolutely have to say something to this guy. Confront him.
ELAINE: Really?
GEORGE: Yes.
ELAINE: You would do that?
GEORGE: If I was a different person.

I'm seeing if I can go one week without having a single beer. Before going to the beach 2 weeks ago I was on a helluva run; I figure that if I do go the whole week I will be downing about 96,000 fewer calories, so I should lose about 212 pounds by Sunday. Not too shabby, no?

I cracked myself up earlier, leaving work, when I exhaled "shew. 3rd day over!" What the fuck? It was 4:30! I'm not a day drinker, I don't drink at work, I don't wake up and reach for a little "hair of the dog." With me it's more like well, I'm watching tv all by myself, it's 9 at night...I'm bored...might as well have a few pops.

But hell, it's already almost Thursday and I can't really say I've even been tempted or cared to drink. But a little while ago I was sitting here, in this chair, and I realized my sunburned chest and stomach was starting to peel. I started peeling off the old, dead skin, pulling off whole strips of old, dead skin and uncovering fresh, new skin. It occurred to me that I'm not drinking this week, I'm LITERALLY shedding my own skin - maybe this is what I've been waiting for, that click, the photograph, the moment I've been waiting for all this time. Use this moment to quit being hungover, get a real job, act like an adult, save money, become an actual human being. Quit being a goddam loser. Stripping off a layer of myself, wondering if I could finally change it all.

I stopped peeling. Yeah, right I thought. Maybe if I was somebody else.