Well, the second, (and least favored) son of an alcoholic has plenty to write about, but not much that is really interesting unless you lean towards the masochistic. Through my sixteenth year, not much good happened, and a lot of pain and "eternal downer". At the end of that year, one other entered my sphere of existance, and almost complete reversal for a while, then another three or four years of the eternal downer. People that the old man once held up to me "You should be more like XXXXX" that reached their graves floating in alcohol ten or more years ago, I'd like to bring some of them in, but don't want to cover more than a five year timeline. More unusual events that happened, but most wouldn't believe them. Truth can indeed be stranger than fiction, which is why most of the truth is wrapped in fiction to disguise it. Doesn't make me wonder if I did indeed write this drivel, or if it happened, but why am I writing it and why did it happen. Oh well, back to see what I did yesterday, maybe I'll keep one paragraph. Although, I'm just as likely to scrap it and try to rewrite it in the third person, see if that comes out better. Rich