Well, not really. But an out of print book on the life of Steve Marriott has been re-published and is affordable again. And is being shipped to me this week. Woot!

The more I know about his life the more I see similarities between it and my life and my ex-husband. The destruction that is addiction is just incomprehensible. You take a perfectly delightful, and in his case supremely talented, human being, add more money than god and a cocaine addiction and you get:

An alcoholic in his cups is an unlovely creature. Our struggles with them are variously strenuous, comic, and tragic.

It is the truth. And we lose so many folks this way. My ex’s death certificate said “suicide” and Steve Marriott’s said “smoke inhalation due to a house fire.” They should have said “alcoholism.”

The man fascinates me and I’m dying to get my hands on this sometimes flawed book. I read a lot of biographies and when they deal with addiction I’m all over it. As much as I have a girl crush, the truth is his story breaks my heart. I wish he could have found sobriety. I don’t know if was denial, too much access, fame, or what. I know in the very early 70’s he tried to clean up his act to save his marriage. I think when he failed to do both, he gave up. Fuck it. The battle cry of the alcoholic. I always see myself running down a hill, painted with blue celtic symbols, a huge sword, screaming FUCK IIIITTTTTT! And I laugh and the moment passes. I’m a very lucky woman.