Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie
When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin’ behind an’ losin’ yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life’s busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come to the top of yer cup
If the wind’s got you sideways with with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood’s easy findin’ but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin’ and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’ seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin’
And yer rope is a-slidin’ ’cause yer hands are a-drippin’
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe’s a-pourin’
And the lightnin’s a-flashing and the thunder’s a-crashin’
And the windows are rattlin’ and breakin’ and the roof tops a-shakin’
And yer whole world’s a-slammin’ and bangin’
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
“I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn’t they tell me the day I was born”
And you start gettin’ chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you’re lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world’s a-watchin’ with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she’s long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they’re fryin’
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell’s bangin’ loudly but you can’t hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes’ve turned filthy from the sight-blindin’ dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an’ fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin’ three queens
And it’s makin you mad, it’s makin’ you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin’ around a pinball machine
And there’s something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin’
But it’s trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin’ in bed
And no matter how you try you just can’t say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion’s mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you’d never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin’
On this road I’m walkin’, on this trail I’m turnin’
On this curve I’m hanging
On this pathway I’m strolling, in the space I’m taking
In this air I’m inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I’m playing, on this banjo I’m frailin’
On this mandolin I’m strummin’, in the song I’m singin’
In the tune I’m hummin’, in the words I’m writin’
In the words that I’m thinkin’
In this ocean of hours I’m all the time drinkin’
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they’re around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
“Cause sometimes you hear’em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin’
And you can’t remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it’s something special you’re needin’
And you know that there’s no drug that’ll do for the healin’
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin’ train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That’s been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don’t bar no race
That won’t laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin’ long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it’s you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you’re sitting
That the world ain’t got you beat
That it ain’t got you licked
It can’t get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope’s just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner ’round a wide-angled curve
But that’s what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
“Cause you look an’ you start getting the chills
“Cause you can’t find it on a dollar bill
And it ain’t on Macy’s window sill
And it ain’t on no rich kid’s road map
And it ain’t in no fat kid’s fraternity house
And it ain’t made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain’t on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it’s funny
No you can’t find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain’t in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you’re bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain’t a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain’t in the rumors people’re tellin’ you
And it ain’t in the pimple-lotion people are sellin’ you
And it ain’t in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star’s blouse
And you can’t find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can’t tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain’t in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain’t in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain’t in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin’ and tappin’ in Christmas wrappin’
Sayin’ ain’t I pretty and ain’t I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can’t even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you’ll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain’t in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who’d turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can’t find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain’t in the ones that ain’t got any talent but think they do
And think they’re foolin’ you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while ’cause they know it’s in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin’, “Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain’t there no one here that knows where I’m at
Ain’t there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN’T REAL”
No but that ain’t yer game, it ain’t even yer race
You can’t hear yer name, you can’t see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin’
Where do you look for this lamp that’s a-burnin’
Where do you look for this oil well gushin’
Where do you look for this candle that’s glowin’
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You’ll find God in the church of your choice
You’ll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it’s only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You’ll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown
~bob dylan
my llife . . . on, it goes.
It’s strange
EERIE
It’s just my life, nothing special, nothing dire.
I’m just living it.
I’ve always liked people. Always detested them too . . .
They can be such bothers, bores . . .
And, a few of them, much as you don’t want to, you LOVE.
Sometimes, they don’t LOVE you back. Not like you want them to. Sucks,
And, on we go . . .
I like being alone. I don’t like feeling lonely.
I wish there was a “someone” special . . .
Thing is . . .
After all I chose to put myself through, it’s difficult to ask that, to ask someone to be, special.
Often, I feel, unworthy. I turn to self-reliance.
I’m good, all by myself.
Still, I yearn and ache . . .
It’s a choice.
Yep, I make it!
mahalo
she’s just another girl . . . and she makes it clear, maybe . . .
and then, there’s this OTHER girl.
she broke in, busted down walls, skipping by the damned door . . . flew right in.
and then, the ONE I wanted. On timeout! Her word.
and it all confuses me . . .
I’m a nice guy, I’m a bad boy . . .
I can’t get what I want.
not even sure what the fuck that is, anymore . . .
cute, perky
wise
fun
rolled up in a ZigZag paper with a smile that’d melt dead souls . . .
she’s out there, I know . . .
it’s like that FISH . . . the HUGE one. Been avoiding anglers all it’s life. Nibbled, yanked a few lines but, knows what the hook looks like, it don’t BITE!
yeah, I ask . . . some. I’m picky. I’m too proud.
I could never settle for less than I deserve . . .
she’s OUT THERE! I know . . .
thought I’d found her, time or two, maybe even three . . . but, I was to young to tell her. I was to young to know. Back then . . . I wasn’t worthy.
Today, I am . . .
regret? no . . . that’s NOT the word . . .
yep.
gonna keep asking, gonna keep on looking
I’m an angler
a fisherman
I got a line
yougetapole
thank you very much, Hank . . .
least I got the songs to get me through
anything
through this NOTHING . . .
life is good
let the music PLAY . . .
it’s a journey . . .
It’s mid February and I’m waiting on a phone call to go back to work . . . waiting is one of the things I detest. Always have . . .
So, yesterday, I decide to take some action. I’m thinking I might ought to obtain a passport. One of the requirements is having a birth certificate, appropriate for the authorities approval. In my case, to speed up the process, I needed to drive to Columbia to the dHEC Office. It would expedite things . . .
Now, driving to Columbia isn’t that big of a deal but, I used to live there, back in the early 90′s. Lot of memories . . . so, cautiously, I started out on this little trek. I was just going to go down, take care of business, get some lunch and maybe, do some shopping. Being out of work, I can’t really afford to spend any money. I don’t know when I’ll be making any more . . .
As I’m getting ready to leave, an old friend reminds me, how tedious it can be dealing with State Employees and the LINES that form where they work. My FEAR, brought to light! Took me a second but, I remembered . . . if I was LOOKING for this task to be a problem, it would. I rejected the thought! Asked if she’d like to meet for lunch, it’d be good to see her after so many years . . . she declined. I let that dashed hope, slip away as well . . .
So, I tossed a disc in the dash and hit play and off I went. No expectations, no fear, just out to accomplish a task. It was a nice drive down. Not much traffic. The fog, lifted. I relaxed. Cleared my head of preconceptions and took off . . .
It was a nice drive. As I neared the capital city, traffic picked up. I stopped and got a bottle of water before the last leg and again, had to clear my mind. I was NOT going to have a difficult time, today. Even if it took ALL DAY! If I needed an omen, I soon got it. When I pulled into the parking lot, there it was. A space right in front . . . I smiled.
These thoughts, they often cloud my path. I kept letting them go . . . NO, it wasn’t going to BE, a problem! Nothing was very important! I didn’t HAVE to HAVE this paper, today! If it was crowded, I could come back, later. I could mail it in. I had many choices! Nothing was going to upset this day . . .
I walked in. I was second or third in line, depending on which one of these people were next. It was hard to tell. One guy was leaning against the wall. Another lady was standing at the podium, waiting for the clerk to ask what she needed. He nodded, she stepped forward. I listened a little more intently when she started telling her story. She was there for the same reason I was, I overheard. Finally, the clerk asked the year of her birth. When she told, I said, “Well, you certainly don’t LOOK IT!” She smiled. A quick little exchange between the four of us and my faith was reaffirmed. People are basically GOOD! Me, the guy leaning, the clerk and this lady . . . we were all happy. I relished the moment.
As she finished, she gave me that look, an over the shoulder look that exuded, thank you . . . I stepped up. The clerk asked my business. I need a copy of the LONG FORM of my birth certificate, please, I uttered. He shuffled some forms and handed me a clipboard. A few keystrokes later, looking over the crowded lobby, he said, maybe you can find a seat to fill these out, over there. He pointed. Said, “the wait shouldn’t be but about an hour!” I made a little joke about their website saying, walk in waits are usually less than 30 minutes! He said, yeah, well those people have NEVER been down here where the WORK is done . .. they haven’t a clue! I went and found a chair. Small talk with those around about how long they’d been there, what number they had in their hand, where they were from, etc., etc. It was a pleasant crowd. The lady I sat beside was nice. The conversation got around to a little more personal level. I told her, I had no plans other than to patiently wait my turn, get my form and not get upset about whatever was going to happen. Told her, I used to let things like this, like waiting, bother me . . . not anymore. Life was too short . . .
A few minutes later, she leaned over. Kinda had this tear in her eye. She said, I don’t know why I’m telling you this but, my uncle, he passed from cancer last year. When I went to see him, shortly before his death, he said almost the same thing you are talking about. NOTHING matters. All those things he’d wished he’d done, not important. All those people he thought would come to say, goodbye. They didn’t and it was alright. All those things he wanted, not important. It ALL just didn’t matter. He was going to die and it was okay . . . She said, I get it. A tear and a lump surged to my throat! We sat, peacefully, in silence a few minutes. A moment, shared . . .
A few minutes later, her number was called. She looked back after gathering her things and gave me that look . . . that, thank you, look. I leaned back. Aware. A few minutes later, my number came up. Almost instantly, FEAR. Here was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath and walked to the assigned window. The lady looked up and asked how she could help me. Cheerily, I said, “Just tell me, YES, I brought all I needed, filled out your forms correctly and that you could and would, give me a copy of the Certificate of my Birth!” She smiled. I did, too! I sat down. Hopeful. She asked for money. I paid. She checked the computer screen and very shortly said, YES! I’d get my forms and that I was done and I could leave. Thank you very much. I was done. Painless. Done.
If you’re still with me, THIS is where the story gets interesting. I didn’t know what to do. It was around lunchtime and I was getting a little hungry but, I didn’t want to fight the lunch crowd. I drove down into an old, “stomping ground” called Five Points. It’s just off the campus of the University. Eerily, it wasn’t as crowded as I expected. I found a parking place, got out and looked. Just looked around. I’d spent some time here. Memories came flooding back. An old girlfriend and I had been here often. I thought of her. What she was doing these days . . . happily married, mother of one. I remembered being so intoxicated in these streets years ago. With her, with alcohol, with drugs . . . I shoved a couple of quarters into the meter. Strolled.
I walked into a music store, looking at guitars. I walked out. Back into the streets . . . I bypassed the Starbucks. Crossed at Garibaldi’s. It’s been there for years. I looked back for the bath tub above Yesterdays. Someone blew a horn. Back in the moment. Back into NOW. I found the sidewalk. I couldn’t remember the name of the place when I lived there but it smelled, the sidewalk of beer and urine and hotdogs, just like it did forever! Floods of misplaced and lost moments . . . they dashed across my mind. I couldn’t clear. I couldn’t focus. I’d seen this sign coming in. Just down the block. I was HUNGRY! Maybe, I could get a crabcake sandwich, there. I walked in. There was a wait. I asked if the bar, outside was available, first come. The bustling blonde nodded. I scurried. Found an open stool between the corner and a couple of hammer loops wearing faded baseball caps pulled down tight. Go Braves! A bartender appeared. What to drink, sir? Just a bottle of . . . water, please. Sorry, we don’t have them. I can get you a glass! That’s okay, I’ll just drink my own, if you don’t mind. He didn’t. Placed a menu and the “specials” in front of me and sped off to refill the iced teas, sweet! I perused the stained and faded papers. It was a burger place. It’d do. Seems they had one with a crabcake and some pimento cheese topper. A couple more guys joined, prepping for the weekend, cold beers, all around. And then, it happened . . . some kid, he takes the seat, by me . . . he just had that look, the kind of guy who was going to TALK. To me . . . and, he did.
It took a few minutes. He’d ordered a double vodka shot and a Blue Moon chaser and mentioned, he was on a little lay over. Riding the bus, to Florida. He had some time . . .
It’s funny, how when these things happen. I was a little apprehensive when he sat down. I just wanted to fuel my body and abide with the thoughts and emotions and feelings that had already filled my morning. I didn’t think it was going to get better. I was WRONG.
The kid started slow. He was from Conn. He’d just come from Asheville, NC. He’d hiked the Trail. The Appalachian Trail. He’d left his pack, by the door. He’d been in a hotel for a couple of nights. He had six hours. I mentioned he was off to a good start. I mentioned, I’d ridden a bus from LA to this very town, right here, almost 30 years ago. The acting thing wasn’t going to work out for me . . . and the three days it’d taken me to get back to civilization, were I was “comfy” had humbled me enough. I knew what a couple of doubles tasted like. I had some sympathy for the kid. He went on. He was going South, to meet some friends. In Miami. They had a car. They would make it to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I mentioned, I’d been through, all those places, once. I started to like this kid. Envied his adventure. He was bright, wise beyond his years. Full of life, excited and exciting . . . I knew him, better than I thought! This was me. Or, the me, I’d wanted to be. He seemed, better “heeled” than I’d ever been. He was FLUSH. Went on, to say so. Then, he started to tell his tale. . .
He’d gotten in a little trouble.
Yep, I KNEW this man.
It was drugs. His parents didn’t have a clue. They didn’t know how bad it was, or wasn’t. He’d worked for awhile. Had some money in the bank. His dad took it. Controlled it. They didn’t know what to do with him. Offered rehab. He’d said, NO! He thought, if he could just get away, do something he LOVED doing, he’d be fine. And the thing is, I believe him. His phone rang.
I sat there while he talked. Couldn’t really hear but, it was obvious it was someone asking, how he was, where he was, was he okay . . . he said, goodbye and hung up.
The bartender asked if he’d like to order. He said, no. I wondered . . . and he explained before I could ask. He was FLUSH. The money his dad took, was controlling was being used to finance this trip. He’d spent some time in the woods, letting his body cleanse. Letting his mind, clear. He’d found himself. On that Trail! I told him about my journey. My history. My sobriety. We looked each other in the eyes. Yep.
We talked about letting go. We talked about healing. We talked about life.
I don’t know how to explain. I’d get it out of order and mess it up if I tried to recapture verbatim. We shared the essence of life. Live it. Let go of the things that don’t serve. Love what you are, what you do . . .
He asked if I’d ever read this book, The Four Agreements by Lao Tzu. It’s not by, Lao Tzu. I let it pass. The Tao te Ching is. I asked if he’d read it. He told me about a “counselor” taking him to a Yogi. He showed me a necklace. Yin, yang! It meant something to him. He said so. We nodded. We chatted a bit longer while I ate. We both laughed at the size of the burger. I thought, maybe I should buy the kid some food but, luckily, I didn’t embarrass him by offering. He was FLUSH, remember? He had money. He was finding himself. I was just a piece of the puzzle. His puzzle. I’m not sure if he knows it yet. I’m not sure he’ll remember . . . but, I will. I’ll never forget having the chance to look back at myself!
A few more exchanges of small talk and I had to leave. The meter needed feeding. I was certain I’d already gotten a ticket but it didn’t matter. Spending a few minutes with yourself, in hindsight is priceless. I shook his hand. Wished him luck on his journey. I couldn’t, or wouldn’t hug him. It would have been to close. Too much . . . I said, goodbye, travel safe, child. Enjoy your trip. And I walked away . . . as I gathered myself, I noticed his pack, sitting by the door. Quality! The kid would be, alright . . .
I walked out. Lit a cigarette. Took a deep breath. Full. Sated. Happy. As I started back towards my truck, I heard this music. A familiar song . . . Losing My Religion by R.E.M. I stopped. I leaned back into the Porch and said, “MIKE, listen . . .” He smiled and nodded. Mahalo, my friend . . . safe travels!
own your life . . .
this thing, called RESPONSIBILITY . . . it’s how YOU “respond” to the things around you! The situations, the people, the THINGS that life place in your path. Handle them with kindness, with LOVE and most of all, “justly” . . . everyone deserves a place! You may be right and you may be wrong. Admit when you are, either! If there is a “truth” in life it’s that things, CHANGE . . . LET THEM! Hold on to what’s important to you. Let go of what doesn’t SERVE making your life, pleasant, peaceful, serene. BE, kind . . . be FAIR! OWN your LIFE . . . spread some LOVE! Share the happiness you find along your journey . . . OWN, your LIFE!
developing unconclusions . . .
the ellipsis has become . . .
MUCH overUSED!
something omitted, left out, undone. much like, my life!
couple/thousand things . . . undone.
a few amends, dangling
I stole money. $20 dollars @ a time. More than once. Just took beer money from someone’s till. It wasn’t MY money. I’m writing a check, mailing it anonymously. pretty sure, if there’s a statute of limitations, it’s run out. I got FIRED for it but, I never made, restitution. It will be done.
I cheated on girlfriends. I lied about it. That’s the RIGHT THING to do, in those situations. the drama isn’t worth, being truthful. Not at the time . . . it happened to me, as well. Wish they would have lied . . . que sera!
this thing called life, it’s FULL of drama, if we want it.
For now, I’d rather NOT have much . . .
NOTHING seems that important. I’m okay with that . . . for now.
I’m not as smart as you think I am. I’m not as smart as I think I am, either. I’m NOT smart.
I wonder . . .
Often, but not, often enough, I look things up. I Google. I read. Still, I’m NOT smart.
What I am smart about is . . .
Life is LOVE.
God doesn’t matter very much.
The right thing will always be questioned in hindsight if the outcome troubles you.
Things CHANGE.
Comfort is fleeting.
If there is a god, it must be, LOVE . . . nothing else is acceptable to me at this time . . . (that’ll probably change too . . .)
it’s a little after 4 in the morning and I’m awake. I shouldn’t be but, that STORM was loud. Started a shit storm in my brain. When I can’t CLEAR my head, I write . . . I ramble . . . thoughts on paper . . . just like this!
I’m okay. I’m NOT the best I can be, I’m a work . . . in progress! I don’t want more than my share. I do want THINGS. I want to live, happily. I don’t want to trouble others, or bother them. I want to be noticed. I want people to LIKE me. I crave attention, sometimes. More often, I don’t . . .
I’m a figment of my imagination. That is reality. MY reality.
I’m good. I’m evil. I do have those thoughts. Not acting on them is . . . a choice.
I drank. A lot. I don’t, anymore. Or, less . . . it’s just alcohol. I broke it. It used to open the inhibitions. It fooled the mind. It was a comfort. It’s a burden, now. I bare. I abide. Miss it? yep. Will I drink again? I doubt it. I remember.
Life is better today, without it.
I’ve learned. I’ll always have questions I can’t answer. I ask them less. Well, I try to dismiss them. They’re futile. I still admire the grass over there on the other side of the fence but, I’m dealing with the grass over here, where I am. It’s decent grass. It’ll do.
With a mind like mine, I have to look for contentment. It’s not settling for less. It’s learning to appreciate what is . . .
I’ve got no advice for you.
I don’t have a point to make.
All I’ve got is . . . enough. For now . . .
Fear
I know fear.
Don’t like it much but, it’s around, more than I’d care to admit or recognize.
Some of you know, I quit drinking a little over two and a half years ago. Many of you could care less . . . thing is, it’s still kinda front and center and important to ME. There’s this “old behavior” that I don’t want to return to. I’ve done most of what was asked of me. I go, to those meetings . . . not as much as I did but, often enough to realize who I am and they help me get some crap out of my head. See, that’s where the PROBLEM is, IN my head. That’s where everything is, and NOTHING! The more I’m in touch with, NOTHING, my spiritual side, the better I feel. The less I think . . . like, that’s even possible.
Had more than a few thoughts on god, lately. Conversations, too. I hear and see, these Posts on Facefuck about God and I cringe, still. They insist on talking about God, the Father and His son, Jesus. Especially, this time of year! Religion, confuses me. Why anyone would adopt someone else view of God surprises me. God, it’s a pretty personal thing for me. I can’t define it. I can’t explain it . . . and, I don’t HAVE to . . . yet, I yearn to tell you . . . something.
When I started going to those meetings, my “brother” told me to “take what I needed and leave the bullshit there . . .” Made sense to me! I thought MOST of it, to be, BULLSHIT. A lot of it, IS, was and always will be. Some pretty ill people go to those things, those meetings. They are there for a myriad of reasons and agendas. Some, forced, some, desperate, some, hopeful . . . me, I go for the therapy! And, the reminder . . . of who I am! What I was!
For the longest time, I demanded HELP. Didn’t get it and it pissed me off. Then, I got tired of fighting and arguing and HELP was all OVER ME. In me! That’s where I found god . . . or, I became willing to accept the concept. I went PAST any lengths. I made it up as I went. I changed the rules. I adapted. I stayed sober. So far . . .
You see, something Posted on that Social Network, it scared me last night. I got this call from someone about, I don’t know, a month or two ago. This girl, woman . . . she wanted to talk. And, we did . . . we talked about HOW to stop drinking. I guess I should set this up, a bit. This woman, she’s beautiful. I’m attracted to her, sexually. I don’t KNOW her, though. She has a boyfriend. We’re acquaintances. I kinda like the guy but, I still want to fuck his girlfriend! For whatever reason, I think she’d be FUN, in bed. I met her once. Well, we were in the same house at this party. She didn’t look my way. We never spoke. They were together. There were other women there and I occupied myself with the ones that were more readily, available! So, I was a little shocked when she reached out. I wasn’t the ONLY one she reached out to but, I told her, my story. She thanked me for my time and tossed a couple of compliments my way and . . . well, then, I read this Post.
She isn’t ready to quit.
As simple as it sounds, that’s ALL it takes, to quit! Getting ready!
I went to a meeting.
I shared.
My story goes something like this . . .
The state of SC suggested, required that I attend a few AA meetings years ago. I’d been arrested for DWI. I think it was still DWI, instead of DUI. I don’t really remember. In fact, I don’t remember how long ago it was. I do remember the building. Some of the people in there. I still see some of them. Well, I said, yes, I’m an alcoholic. Got a chip. Got a “sponsor” . . . like they suggested. I got a book. Read part of it, even. Can’t remember how long I stayed sober but, it wasn’t much more than the state required for me to get my drivers license back . . . my “sponsor” and his insistence of doing things his way were a HUGE part of why I didn’t think their “program” would work. Not for ME! I was different. I was special. I was UNIQUE.Still am . . .
I basically RAN from their HELP. I even blamed the guy who thought it was HIS job to help me. He did it wrong. I wasn’t READY . . .
When I went back to those meetings, however many years later. I still had those memories. I didn’t trust their methods. I didn’t LIKE their method. But, I kept going because I was tired. I’d tried it MY WAY and it only lasted 43 days. Those first 43 days, I was trying to save a relationship. Futilely! I didn’t realize it at the time but, the truth isn’t written in black and white and it fucking changes . . .
I was a cocky bastard who thought I knew things. I’ve been around the block, so to speak. I’ve seen more than most, less than many.
(ONE day, I’m going to learn to write a cohesive, readable essay!)
Back to the story, my story . . .
I walked into the room, scared. Scared it wouldn’t work this time. Yet, even with my disbelief, I kept going back. They suggested it, almost each and every time I went. Come on back, they said. I did.
After a year, they gave me this medallion. Honored, I was. I’d EARNED it. Just for sitting through the damned insanity in that place . . .
See, the thing is, I wasn’t ready when I got there, either. I’d shopped around, looking for an easier, softer way . . . one of the first things I’d learned was, you HAVE TO, be ready . . .
Another thing, I learned while I was shopping around, it takes a couple of years for the brain to repair the receptors and neurons and transmitters! When I got that first year chip, I knew, I still had some repairs to make. I’m no brain surgeon. I hoped it was repairing itself. The magic of the Spirit of the Universe, I was trying to channel it and let it work. Let it, do it’s thing, so to speak. I wrote, here, about what I was going through. Some of you, read those things and gave some encouragement and support. Forever indebted, I am.
The thing is, my stubbornness kept me sober long enough . . . to understand that I don’t have to understand a damned thing. All I have to do, is NOT drink, and wait . . . and wait. AND, wait, some more!
You see, what happened to me, just happened when I quit fighting. I got tired of arguing. It was pretty simple to me, all along. I had a choice. I could continue to drink or NOT. If I didn’t let the excuse I was seeking, take hold, I could remain sober. I didn’t. Like I said, I’m stubborn! Most that I see, fail, do so because they find their excuse. Something triggers them and off they go . . . back to where they were, or worse.
That guy, the one who told me he was going to be my sponsor and HELP me. He still was going to meetings when I showed back up. The thing is, he says he quit drinking but, it was pretty obvious to me, the pain pills he is addicted to now have become a substitute for the alcohol he gave up. I didn’t want to wind up, like him. Glad I ran away when I did . . . some are sicker than others!
I haven’t done the Steps like the Book says others did them. I tripped over and ran into the Steps when I didn’t even realize it. I’ve pretty much done them all, except for the writing them down like they suggest. I wrote them HERE and over there on Facefuck as Notes. And, I haven’t made all the amends they suggest either. I’m willing to, if the opportunity arises, though. I’ve have made a few . . . I’ve even done some of them HERE, for all of you to read!
I’ve definitely done my inventory! Over and over, again! I keep doing it. TOO much, I think, sometimes. I ask for the spirit to help me. Every morning, I do this . . . and each night, I thank that spirit. I’ve had an awakening! When I’m wrong, I admit it. I try to do, the right things. I listen better. I know less . . . and I’m good with that! I am sober. I’m not a dry drunk. They talk about that in their book. No, that’s not me . . . I’m pretty sure.
But, back to the girl. She posted that she was going to drink until the end of the year. And that scared me . . . what I’ve learned . . . you can’t help those not asking. You can’t keep someone from being stupid. You, or I, can’t stop anyone from doing anything and we shouldn’t waste time trying. The things I cannot change will NEVER change . . . until they are READY!
I was.
And, I’m thankful for those who put up with that year of arguing and my being a dick and my thinking out loud. I still don’t believe in your God. I never will. I’m afraid for those who rely on God.
God let me stay drunk for a long time . . . and He had little to do with my stopping. There is a spiritual “thing” that helped me when I got in touch. For that, I’m thankful. It was INSIDE me. The whole time. I KNEW this, a long time ago. There were some things I had to do. I didn’t know I was going to turn out like I did. I don’t know what I’m going to turn out like in the end, either but, I do think, this is better than it was . . . for me!
Yep. One day, I’m going to learn how to write this shit down so you can understand what I’m trying to say . . . until then, this is what the fuck you get!
a thought or three
I’m pretty sure, my political views don’t align with most everyone . . . i understand a need for government. I just don’t LIKE them! A politicians main purpose is to get elected by whatever means possible. Whether he,or she, enters the fray with or without, good intentions, they must choose to ENTER . . . and there in, lies the problem. The avenues of pursuit are tarnished and ridden with an Old School mindset. There is little HOPE of changing a system from within a corrupt system. The SYSTEM offers HOPE but, it, in itself, doesn’t ALLOW it! Just another illusion perpetuated by, the SYSTEM. IF change is desired, I think it must come from OUTSIDE. Things like the OWS Movement are a start . . . a scattered and weakly led, START. Without your support, without your trying to understand and simply condemning these people as anarchists, rebels, whatevers, we lose any chance of a HOPE for CHANGE! Governments were meant to PROTECT us, from them. They are, by nature, self-defensive, MONSTERS. Why else would TREASON be, against the LAW? What part of this don’t YOU, understand? This government we have, I feel, has run it’s course . . . it’s BROKEN and BATTERED and TORN. Don’t LET it tear our humanity from our souls . . . Don’t be FOOLED by the men and women who say, they can FIX things . . . LOOK into your own soul and DO . . . BE . . . the CHANGE necessary to perpetuate LIFE! LOVE! The pursuit of HAPPINESS . . . My LIFE, it changed. Anything is POSSIBLE . . . STOP the lemming-like behavior and stand up for what is RIGHT. Don’t be coerced into PATRIOTISM! Especially, for the tattered thing we have accepted as Representation for TO LONG . . . I’m not asking for ANYTHING but, your attention! For, your ACTION . . . LEARN. LOVE and CHERISH what you have been GIVEN, a LIFE worth LIVING!
running off at the mouth . . .
I have some opinions. That’s all they are! What I think about some things . . .
Amy Winehouse is dead. No one actually knows how but, many have assumed it was her addiction(s).
There were some people killed in Norway by so-called terrorists. There will be, have always been, those who murder the innocent for whatever reason! Religion, politics, etc . . . so be it!
Life is tragic. Dying is NOT! Amy Winehouse wasn’t a wasted life . . . as I’ve seen many say! Amy Winehouse SANG her way through life. She sang about JOY, and pain! She entertained. She got PAID to do so . . . an artist’s DREAM! How the fuck do you, with your problems and cares, so immaterial, judge someone else LIFE? You with your mortgage and car payments and credit debt trying to keep up with the proberbial Joneses’ . . . WTF?
Yet, seven, at first named, lie dead. Unknown, to you and I. DEAD! From a cowardly act . . . their families ache, tonight. You have no clue who these people are, were . . . yet, you tsk, tsk at the “tragic” death of a musician who was public with her PROBLEM! What problems are IMPORTANT?
I’ll tell you what I THINK! Amy, she gave me something, some hope . . . some fucking days, that’s ALL I got! Those seven unknown dead, they gave ME, nothing. Yet, I mourn their deaths the same . . . the same as I do ALL death. The end of a life! Death is NOT tragic. Death happens . . . to us all.
The “tragedy” here is, people thinking that one is more important than any other. ALL of us, will die. Thing is, I want to die, fairly HAPPY. And that is a choice I can, and am willing to make. Each and every day, I rise. I say a little prayer. I ask, for help! With MY problems . . . and I have an agenda to deal with those problems. I WORK at solving it rather than suffer from it/them! I consciously make the choice to ENJOY my life. To find some GOOD in it. To contribute when I can, to making each and every life on Earth, more enjoyable, in whatever way I can . . .
If nothing else, I try to do, MY PART. I help when and where I can. THIS, is all I can do. I’m aware, more aware of the simple pleasures found in living soberly, every day. I didn’t do this alone. I had more help than I can ever repay! Each and every one of you, my friends, my acquaintances have helped me. Some by lending an ear, some by a kind word of encouragement, some by just being the kind of person I don’t want to be. You set an example of the things I can’t change . . . and remind me of the ONE THING I can, myself . . .
In your own way, being a “dick” reminds me, I don’t have to or, want to be remembered as the DICK I used to be . . . if I can change, so can you. But, only if you want to, badly! Only if you are willing to let people help you! I couldn’t have done this alone . . . and for the help I got, I’ll forever be, GRATEFUL!
mahalo . . . life is good and, it goes on . . . until you DIE!
