art and addiction

i was reading a book called addictive thinking before i left for europe. it was quite fascinating: the addict's concept of time, their reverse logic (starting with the conclusion and building a syllogistic argument to support it, even if the first premise has to be absurd. that way, the argument is logically coherent, even if irrational. they just have to get the conclusion that justifies their addiction). one thing it said is that the majority of addicts drink or use to just cope with reality; to ease social situations, to relate to other people, to feel more comfortable with reality. i was then reading lost in the cosmos, which i had started a while ago but then loaned to a friend. percy was talking about the artist's, i.e. musician/writer/poet/painter &c., creative genius, although he doesn't use that term, and the seeking for transcendence from reality. because of the displaced self, one of percy's biggest themes, the artist (he says about the scientist as well, but i am most interested in the artist. or perhaps the best thing to do would be to include them both as subspecies of philosopher) both as a necessity and as a remedy views reality as an objective subject; that is, a thing apart from one's self. this removal from reality leads to creation through discovery of truth, which in turn leads to a transcendent euphoria. the problem is that this state is impossible to maintain; the artist must return to reality at some point. percy calls this the problem of "reentry", and posits that this is why so many artists are alcoholics, amorals, suicidies, and so forth. what interests me, of course, is the addictive way of coping with reentry. addiction numbs the shock and disappointment of reentry by physically numbing the brain, thus lessening the overall perception and awareness of reality.
a friend of mine is an artist, and we have discussed how art is a result of the fall. saints also seek this truth and transcendence, but seek it as an actual Being. saints, too, especially the mystics, write about the agony of this life and the flat disappointment and almost intolerable inanity of reality. saints, however, are not suicides or addicts. some are artists, but only, it seems, as a sort of by-product of seeking the transcendentals not in themselves, but in God. seeking after Beauty is a dangerous pasttime. Beauty cannot be sought after as its own end, but must be sought as the quality of a thing or Being, namely God. otherwise, Beauty itself becomes god.

i have returned to different aspects of this topic again and again. last night it was sparked by reading dylan thomas and my roommate expressing frustration over poets and writers who drank themselves to death. i am trying to see if i can combine the philosophy of language, the moral hero, and the purpose of art enough to write ... well, hopefully my PhD dissertation on it. i think i may see a way, although i would certainly have my work cut out for me! focus on the present for now, and pax tecum.