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My wife's sister-in-law, who is a social worker, suggested we see a counselor.
The jobs I found I considered to be menial.
It wasn't how far I had gone, but where I was headed.
I accepted a transfer with a promotion (yes, my professional life was still climbing) shortly after the divorce.
I thought I had arrived in heaven.
Now many an earl of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral, fain the life of their lord to shield, their praised prince, if power were theirs; never they knew, -- as they neared the foe, hardy-hearted heroes of war, aiming their swords on every side the accursed to kill, -- no keenest blade, no farest of falchions fashioned on earth, could harm or hurt that hideous fiend! He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle, from edge of iron.
After backpacking around Europe, I decided to settle in a large city.
Most people try to live by self-propulsion.
Many of us needed an overhauling there.
"Rehearsals" then became a part of the pattern, stopping at bars on the way to or from the place where drinks were to be served.
I no longer wish for death or stare at myself in the mirror with loathing.
Three-martini lunches, drinks after work, and a nightcap at the corner bar was just a normal day.
Though braced within by iron bands, that building bright was broken sorely;1 rent were its hinges; the roof alone held safe and sound, when, seared with crime, the fiendish foe his flight essayed, of life despairing.
I didn't have to do any more "research." All I really had to do was review the drinking I had already done.
And in Cornwall now - where the sea-coast is very gloomy, steep, and rugged - where, in the dark winter-time, ships have often been wrecked close to the land, and every soul on board has perished - where the winds and waves howl drearily and split the solid rocks into arches and caverns - there are very ancient ruins, which the people call the ruins of KING ARTHUR'S Castle.
*For amplification -- see Appendix II.
I tried psychiatry, but of course I gave the psychiatrist no cooperation.
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