Sentient beings are numberless; I vow to save them.
— Buddhist vow
When I drank, many people tried to get me to quit. When I drank, I drank the way this cardinal is smashing into our living-room window again and again: full beak-and-body slam against the glass. Again and again he drops, as if shot, onto the grass, wobbles back to his branch, flies straight at the window. Again and again. My bird book says that he’s attacking his own reflection. If I cannot distract him with tinfoil or waves or shouts, he might finally meet the delusional goal he’s set: kill someone, kill the enemy — kill himself.
