Sobriety Dilemmas

"Congratulating a man for staying sober is like congratulating a man for running out of a burning building" Anonymous 

Being sober is kinda "my thing" these days, in other words, I'm digging it! However, like everything else, it does come with it's own set of, for lack of a better word, "dilemmas". Living and maintaining a sober lifestyle isn't exactly easy in this day and age, particularly in my circles. Hell, in any circles for that matter, people drink and do drugs from all walks of life, from the skid row bums looking down on you  while laying in the gutter, to the rich and powerful CEO's looking down on you from their high rise office towers, and all those other types and walks of life in between.

I've been through this before, and in less than a month I'll be once again approaching that "18 month mile stone", which, other than making mention of it in this blog and a select few, I will be keeping it to myself for the most part, due to a particular dilemma that I've blogged about before regarding the "congratulations" thing that I take great issue with. My attitude about that still hasn't changed, in fact my resolve has only strengthened as far as that goes.
There's also the dilemma of the 12 step group AA. When I decided to get sober back in 2001, I was a hopeless mess of a pariah and it was really helpful and pulling me from the dank pit I had fallen into. However, everything has a dark side, and I began feeling alienated to the point that I couldn't stand to be around most of those people before I left and eventually picked that "rock 'n roll lifestyle" minus the dope shooting. When I came back to AA the second time around in 2012, instead a few years, it only took me a few months to get those feelings of disgust and alienation that I felt back then. The difference is this time around I'm able walk into the rooms confidently and knowing what's up, instead of freaked out, shell shocked, insecure and shy like the first couple years in the early 2000's. I still occasionally go to a meeting, but halfway through tend to struggle to not get up and leave. When I reached my one year anniversary I went to three that week, and kept silent even though there was a few people in the rooms that were aware of my milestone. Another dilemma I have with AA is I have friends that are struggling with their own alcoholism that occasionally contact me asking about AA, and if I go/went to meetings. Most of these friends live out of town, but I'm not going to lie to them and if they were here and wanted to utilize AA and wanted my help, I would most definitely go with them, Hell, I would even sponsor them, at least temporarily if need be, regardless of my attitudes. I stick with the basic concept of one alcoholic helping another one day at a time.

I guess another dilemma would be trying to not come off self righteous about the whole sober thing, which believe it or not, I do try to be sensitive to. Well, not with everyone, cause well, fuck everyone, just certain people. Truth be told, since I've sobered up nearly 18 months ago, my social life, as well as my social circles, have decreased dramatically, which isn't really a bad thing, and I'm not by any means crying over, it's just something I felt was pertinent to this topic of discussion. It's not so much that I've lost friends over it, if anything I've gained, and in some cases, regained the respect of some of them, and those times when I do get out to a show or party where the booze is flowing, I can get a certain degree of inspiration from them by watching their insecurities fade and their personalities blossom in the early part of the festivities till it peaks and slowly or rapidly begins to unravel and conversation gets sloppy, judgement fails, tempers flair, stomachs churn, consciousness goes, etc. I don't miss any of that, The hangovers and DT's, the embarrassment and confusion, the mystery bruises, the regrettable hookups and those are just the basics! I went way beyond the basics, but I've written, discussed and blogged plenty about that already. Regardless, I believe I have a pretty healthy attitude about being sober. I have no problem being around people that drink, feel completely comfortable in bars so I'm all good in all that aspect.

Then there that silly little label called "straight edge"... I'll say right here that there's no fucking way in hell I would ever identify as "straight edge". In fact, fuck straight edge, that's something that started off with good intentions but evolved into some serious bullshit that I want no part of, I actually take offense when someone refers to me as straight edge, but they're lucky I'm sober, cause if I was drunk I'd probably punch them in the mouth for calling me that, instead I rationally explain the difference... even though they're complete fucking morons. Oh well. Dilemmas....

View From The Middle: Young Vs Old (inspired by a haiku)

"Getting old is trying to remember when everything was glowing ,shiny and new . And having no sympathy for those who still do..." Charles Vick Duncan 11/12/2013

A  former friend that I now cannot stand, posted the above piece on Facebook sometime back. Rather poetic, he referred to it as a haiku. I supposed it made sense to me up to a point, but after a couple minutes of pondering it and throwing it around in my head I can't help but ask myself, would the young (if that's who he was referring to) come to the old looking for sympathy if everything was so glowing, shiny and new? And at the same time why would they expect sympathy? Not that the so-called "old" would necessarily be unsympathetic, However one has to consider that the old were at one time young, shiny and glowing themselves and have by, chance, luck, fate, good fortune or whatever the case may be, have managed to make it to the point of being old, and there's also the possibility that at some point in this period of age that they've witnessed the foolishness and risky behavior that comes with youth and with no ill will or bad intentions, simply meaning to warns of potential perils of said risky endeavors and only to be told to "fuck off old man/woman! You don't know what you're talking about, how could you know, you're just a stupid old man who couldn't possibly know fun and adventure of the young!" (keep in mind I know this isn't the way that young people talk but it basically IS the way their minds perceive the old) From that point, both go their separate ways, the young one feeling smug in youthful ignorance, the old one feeling indifferent in his wisdom knowing that time will catch up with with all. 

There's a popular catch phrase that's been around through the decades and popular with the rebelious "FTW!" (Although it's come to my attention recently that FTW no longer stand for "Fuck The World", the new generation has taken it upon themselves to change it to "For The Win". Gross...) types that goes, "Live fast, die young, leave a pretty corpse!" Well, that's a myth, or in other words, complete and total load of shit. First of all, there's no dignity in death. When young people die, it's usually of unnatural causes, particularly when said young people are the type to spout of stupid fucking sayings like the one mentioned. Those kind of "live fast" deaths are usually and statistically murders, suicides, drug overdoses, car accidents, alcohol poisonings and other "glamorous" things like that. Take Elvis Presley, only 35, fat, naked and bloated on the toilet. Ever seen the post-mortem pics of Marilyn Monroe with her saggy purple face? If you haven't it's all on the internet and easy to find, they were far from pretty and that's the point I'm trying to make, all that nonsense is just a buncha yap spewing out of the hole from some drunken, insecure, neurotic, over-payed rock star who's living a lifestyle that you will probably never EVER be able to afford. On a personal level I can only guess since I'm not quite there yet, but the simple reality of it all, is not so much that the old have lost the ability to see life as glowing, shiny and new, it's just that they see life on a much broader level and have come to appreciate every single second of it. (BTW, I'm not delusional, I know there's some bitter old fucks out there!) They know that their time on this mortal coil isn't long and I don't know for sure, but once again I can only guess that perhaps they've either come to terms or are starting to come to terms with that as well. I know that everyone's experience is different and I hate to generalize, but I'm pretty certain that none of them are gonna have much sympathy for some cocky youngster mouthing off to them one minute than looking for sympathy the next when life throws them a fucking curve ball.

 As far as my own outlook on this subject matter goes, as far as what todays youth is calling "glowing shiny and new", I'm sorry, but I beg to differ. Sorry kids, but you either need to try harder or at least stop trying to take credit for it. Everything I see the younger generation (those 15-25 years my junior) is pretty much the same shit my generation or the generation before me invented only this new generation went and gave it a new stupid name (like "twerking" for example), or they've stolen, recycled or played "mix and match" and created all these lame and generic sub genres and took the most corny and cliche aspects of the old stuff and made it even more corny and cliche. To me it's really hard to not feel nauseous and embarrassed for them, and I hate to say it but it's gotten to the point with me to where I almost can't stand to be around anyone under 25 these days. Other than that, I actually enjoy being older and am really grateful that I got to be young in the time period that I was young in, Something that I've had todays youngsters actually tell me they envy... Now that's fucking trippy, but at the same time, still gives me a little hope in a strange kinda way. Anyway, Thanx for the inspiration Vick, cheers ya fucking loser!

A Dream

I had originally composed this back on January 8th of 2012 and posted it on my Facebook page. It was during a brief time that I recall having a series of really strange and bizarre dreams but this one I managed to gather my wits in time and jump out of bed and compose it before it faded away. I recently pulled it from the archives of my Facebook page and read it to my mother about a week and a half ago and decided to transfer it to this website, with a little grammatical and punctuational editing 

"I just woke up about 20 minutes ago and was having this dream. I'm gonna try and remember as much detail as possible:

I was at a funeral here in Albuquerque with my mom. They were burying two different people in the same grave. I suspect that I knew who they were but don't recall exactly who. I remember one casket being loaded into the ground and pallbearers carrying the next casket to be placed in the same hole. My grandmother was there too. I remember peering into the hole before the 2nd casket was to be placed into it. It turned out though, that this grave was merely an opening, that this grave was actually like a giant underground family crypt or mausoleum and after the caskets were placed into it we all entered it through this separate entrance. There were other people in there, as in people that were in attendance at this double funeral. I went in there with my mom. My grandma had already gone down there before us. Everything was seemingly normal and people were just quietly chatting among themselves. My mom confirmed to me that it was an old final resting place of the family that had been around for years. It was very large and cavernous with two large sections and one small one. There was other caskets and containers (assuming that they contained ashes) everywhere, not exactly cluttered but not exactly organized either. I remember walking around exploring and looking at everything, wondering who these people(the deceased) were. I don't recall reading any names that seemed familiar. As I was exploring, no one seemed to be paying me much mind. I remember being tempted to open random caskets just to peak at who was in them and see what they looked like but I didn't though. At one point I wandered over and sat near to where my mom was chatting with someone. Suddenly to my left, there was a little pudgy girl that was looking at me kinda angrily. She said to me, "I hate you!" in a bratty, little girl kinda way. I wasn't scared, just kinda surprised I guess... then she was gone and there was a man and this woman who I wasn't familiar with but I'm assuming we were related somehow (by the way, everyone there, I assume I was of some relation to only I wasn't familiar with anyone other than my mom and grandma). They were tending to a glass box which contained the well preserved remains of the same little girl I had just encountered! They seemed sad as they were dusting it off. They were talking to me but I don't recall what they were saying. I remember I really felt for them, so much that I hid my face in a nearby curtain and began to weep. After that I noticed other containers that had old black and white portraits of whoever's (I assume) remains were in them. They were kind of odd shaped, like nothing I've seen before. I wanted to go look at them but my mom was saying something to me, what, I don't know, I wasn't really paying close attention, distracted by the portraits. There were names and dates on some of the containers but I don't recall what any of them said...

It was at this point that I started to wake and the dream faded away. This was one of the most fascinating dreams I've ever had! It wasn't a nightmare at all. I know it sounds kind of morbid and creepy and I could see how others might see it that way, but it wasn't scary. I awoke feeling peaceful, not to mention, SO intrigued by it! This is something I want to remember, which is why I'm taking the time to transcribe it at this time. There's still many small details in it but I'm trying to rush through this before things fade away."

Music, rebellion, shock value:ABQ

Rebellion comes in many forms and there are numerous ways to go about it and express it when you're young. One of the most common ways is through music, which is one that I embraced whole heartedly. I feel fortunate that I was around in a time when the concept of "shock value" still had an impact in American society, and with me living in a place like fucking Albuquerque, NM  in the 1980s, where exposure to things like punk rock was limited and more underground. Basically it was here, you just had to try a lot harder to find it, and if you found it, and you flaunted it, you had to expect a pretty extremem recation probably even more so then the meccas where much of the stuff was being produced.

For me , it all started in the summer of 1980 when my 14 year old uncle Frankie came to stay with us and introduced me to a band  called AC/DC, who's singer Bon Scott had just died after a night of heavy drinking and had been replaced by a new singer and just released a new album called "Back In Black" that was about to sell millions. Along with that album, he had gotten me into "Highway To Hell" as well as some of their other albums. He also introduced me to a band called Van Halen and another called Pink Floyd, although I was never a big fan of Pink Floyd, I do think that "The Wall" is a great album, both musically and conceptually. I also got to see both AC/DC and Van Halen in concert a few years later, both were amazing! I should mention, I've seen thousands of concerts and shows since my first and to this day, Van Halen with David Lee Roth in 1984 ranks in the top 5 best performances I've EVER seen!

So anyway, although I've listened to music pretty much all my life, I would mark that summer of 1980 as the starting point of where my own personal exploration began. Looking back, I realize that many of the bands that I was drawn to had a tendency to have a certain quality about them, something that stood out, whether it was visually or lyrically or something in their music. I was 12 years old, I remember waking up one morning watching MTV before school with my younger brother when Motley Crue's "Live Wire" video came on. I remember thinking the song fucking rocked, and the visuals were awesome, but who the fuck were these guys?!? or girls?!? Motley Crue ended up becoming one of my favorite bands down the road. Same year I saw that Crue video, Ozzy bit the head off that bat, needless to say, I was intrigued! 

Yeah, the early to mid 1980's were a great time for shock value in music. Parents, schools and religious figures were freaked out by it, it was pretty awesome, and the bands seemed endless, with Motley Crue, and Ozzy, and Twisted Sister, WASP, Iron Maiden and their scary dead Mascot "eddie",  and they all wore black leather and studs and spikes and scary make up and looked tough and did crazy outrageous shit, it seemed like an endless list! Then something happened... They all went soft... they all went "bitch" it seemed... It was like when it was time to put out new albums they all came back wearing pink and white lace ensembles, fluffy teased hair, singing love ballads... And yeah, all the hot heavy metal rocker chicks were creaming their panties over it, and a good chunk of the once cool rocker scene was following suit because of that, but basically shit got fucking LAME!!! However, I did notice that there was a few of us left that were still wearing our denim vests and not really hanging out with these with these teased headed poseurs so I started hanging with them, and got introduced to the early music of Metallica and Slayer(Both bands 1st albums are my faves by them) back when they were just getting started, as well as Exodus, Destruction, Kreator and Overkill. I started flirting with some of the total satanic metal stuff of Mercyful Fate, because, musically it was really good, but mostly cause I really enjoyed the shock value aspect, I mean it would freak people out, haha! I remember one time, I was bored in math class and I was sitting their writing the lyrics to one of their songs down and my teacher snatched it out of my hands thinking I was writing notes and in an attempt to embarrass me, began reading it aloud in front of the class, needless to say, he didn't get too far before he stopped reading it and left me alone, hahaha!

The problem with the Satan metal thing was it got old pretty fucking fast. Actually, in retrospect, a lot of the metal thing, or maybe it was just the people I was around, were starting to suck, or maybe a combo of both, but regardless, as far as the Satan metal thing, realistically, I couldn't relate. I mean, none of that stuff, demons, brimstones, bloody crosses, etc., had anything to do with my day to day existence. And these singers, with their voices, if I was to meet them and they introduced themselves and their voice sounded like that, you know, all loud, deep, evil and scary, then sure okay, legit, but chances are they sounded more or less like me. 

Fortunately around that time, I was living on the border of two different school districts, and on weekends, I'd hang with my friend Eric who was really into thrash metal and hardcore punk. He went to another school but lived just a couple blocks away. Eric had an amazing record collection and would introduce me to all these great bands. We'd pretty much just listen to records, drink beer and sometimes go to parties. Eric's turned me on to a lot of great bands including punk rock, although he preferred bands on the more thrashier side of things like the DRI's and MDC's, but he took me to my first punk rock shows. He didn't care much for too punk bands that weren't super fast (there were exceptions of course)so I was on my own as far as anything less than DRI speed, but Eric was a good guy nonetheless. I had gotten pretty bored with metal by 1986, like I said I just couldn't relate. I had shaved off my long hair and was hanging out one day and I met a girl name Suzie with a blonde mohawk. We hung out for a little while and she gave me a D.O.A cassette and when I played it later, the first song I heard was the song, "Fuck You", and I have to say, from that moment, I was "officially" sold on punk. I finally found what I'd been looking for, the singer sang with a voice that sounded real, with lyrics that I could relate with, with music that fucking rocked and made me wanna tear shit up! Yeah, I'd been dabbling with and exploring punk for about a year, but yes, I was sold, and D.O.A. is still one of my favorite bands and I've been fortunate enough to see them a few times and good lord, I've been in and around this hardcore punk scene for almost 30 years now...

Is it still rebellion? Toward the society and the system, not so much. I've learned to choose my battles, and that's a lost cause. Most of my rebellion these days is usually directed toward my peers and that's when I can even be bothered. I like to see it more as "constructive motivation" when it come to them and calling them on their bullshit.

Is it still shocking? Depends on where you are. At the same time it's not that important to me either, I can take it or leave it. I will say one thing though. Today's youth that try to recreate do a really shitty job of it

"Congratulations"? WHY?!?

Most people that know me know that I'm once again on the road of alcoholic recovery. As of this writing, (okay typing) I hit the ten month mark yesterday. I've been posting it on my Facebook page pretty much on the 5th of every month since I've started doing this, mostly to keep track of it, and my plan, as long as I decide to stay sober, is to make two more posts, and that's it the for the rest of the year. For the most part, my reasons for posting it are mostly just to keep track of it and to serve as a reminder of where I'm at and how far I've come since this whole mess came to a head last summer, but that's a whole other story and I have other blogs about all that stuff, which leads me to the point and title of this one...

Here's the thing about my monthly anniversary posts. While I don't mind feedback or words of encouragement or whatever the case may be, the one word that irritates the piss outta me and I really wish I didn't wait this long to address this, is the word, "Congratulations"! Seriously?!?

I've never understood that one. I almost immediately delete anyone's comment, I don't give a shit who it's from, that posts that as a comment. I mean why? I was a belligerent drunken fucking lunatic and I literally came a day short of killing myself with liquor! Okay, lets say 10 months ago I slit my wrists, and I posted on my Facebook page that it's been 10 months since I refrained from attempting to slit my wrists, would you congratulate me for that too? Seems a little twisted right? Or what if I was a abusive spouse and I hadn't beaten my wife in ten months and posted that, would that earn me some congrats as well? How about if I was a pedophile or an axe murderer or a frat boy date rapist, or the president of fucking North Korea?!? 

It really makes absolutely no sense to congratulate an alcoholic for not drinking, and you're certainly not gonna get a "thank you" outta me, especially when you make me uncomfortable and fidgety with an with inappropriate word regardless of your heart being in the right place. 

Thing to remember about those posts, and fortunately, only two more to come and then after that only once year if I even remember (I'm getting old, senility can kick in any day now), is I post them mostly for my own benefit, I'm not looking for any kind of praise whatsoever, and I don't mind feedback, both positive and negative, and if they actually inspire you, that's awesome but lets save the "congrats" where it's appropriate, like graduations, child births, divorces, etc...

Have a great day!

So I Take The Bus...

Due to both legal and medical reasons, I am no longer allowed to operate a motor vehicle till at least mid August of 2013 and now rely on the bus to get me around the city. The legal situation started last summer when I was involved in a DUI accident and had my licence revoked, yet continued to drive anyway, despite the warnings from others. Yes, I was well aware I was pushing my luck regardless of the fact that I had since, quit drinking and was and still am completely sober, but the fact remains, that anything can happen and there's still no short supply of other assholes on the road, but I did the best I could to stay aware and be extra vigilant. Unfortunately for me, just after hitting the six month sober mark, a neurological condition that I had been diagnosed with as a teen that had been dormant for over two decades came back with a vengeance, sending me into seizures every five minutes for 36 hours straight and hospitalizing me for five days and pretty much throwing my whole world into upheaval after it was finally over. So I'm back on meds now to keep them under control and I can't drive for six months from the day since the last seizure. My family stepped up and drew the line on that one, took the car keys, so yeah... Coincidentally, the six month point of the last seizure lines up with the time frame that my licence revocation period ends as well.
So anyway, about the bus. Public transportation isn't a totally new thing to me, in fact I used it often when I lived in the bay area. I rode my bike a lot, but I also got around just fine on the BART(the regional light rail/subway system) and bus on both sides of the bay when I lived in San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley, and even when I moved down south to Santa Cruz, I made use of the bus system for a time till I got a bike then eventually got my shit together enough to purchase a car, which in  Santa Cruz was more of a necessity to a certain degree, to where Oakland/SF it was  more "optional".
My first few days using the bus system in Albuquerque were interesting in an observational sort of way. First of all, I hadn't ridden a bus in ABQ since I was in high school, and even then, I can't recall ever riding past west of Wyoming Blvd. I also noticed a strange and unexpected sense of freedom as well. What I mean by that is since I'm not the one behind the wheel, the traffic, the gas prices, insurance, maintenance sorta stuff doesn't really concern me. I just sit there and look out the window and watch for my stop. I should also mention that my probation officer has me in mental health counseling twice weekly and they provide me with free bus passes so I ride free of charge, it's awesome! I've only been riding the bus here regularly for just over a month now, in that time I've had some drunk smack me on the shoulder cause he didn't like my jacket. It was pretty comical actually, I could have easily gotten up and beaten the living shit out of him but I let it go. Another time, the first time I rode the 66 line, the Central bus, it was pretty much what I expected, a scraggly drunk passenger of indeterminate age (he told me a few blocks later he was 29) immediately plopped down in the seat next to me and introduced himself and told me how annoying he was being to the other passengers. I peered over his shoulder and seeing the other passengers facial expressions, it pretty much confirmed he was speaking the truth. He also went on to say that he had just thrown away 36 days of continuous sobriety. I decided to engage him in conversation telling him that I too was an alcoholic, but in recovery and blah blah blah... I think I messed up his buzz cause he exited the bus soon after. There was another time On the 11 Lomas line where an elderly black man had his hand down the front of his pants the whole time and appeared to be jerking off. I've read news reports of some fucked up shit happening here and there around town and a few things that friends who ride the bus have posted on Facebook, but have yet to see anything like that yet, but summer's coming so I suppose it can and probably will any day now....
The major difference in bus patronage between places like Albuquerque and San Francisco are that SF is a compact city where it's very touristy and most of the people that live there don't own cars, so the busses tend to be very crowded and filled with very diverse types of riders, to where ABQ is a city that's more spread out, not as touristy, very car oriented, and it's riders tend to fit more into a certain demographic and stereotype. There's usually always an open seat somewhere on a bus in Albuquerque, I have yet to board one where it's standing room only where it was fairly common in San Francisco.
Mass transit busses used in metropolitan regions all pretty much have the same basic design and layout. Yeah, I know there's those double decker things, and those accordion looking ones, but I'm just speaking of the regular, standard, "boring" bus!
There's the front part near the entrance and driver with the seats that you're required to get up and move if someone who's disabled or elderly boards. For the most part, that's what you'll see, elderly, people with canes or in wheelchairs, the very obese, sometimes people with small children with strollers and the occasional talkative drunk. Actually this was also where I happened to be sitting when I got smacked on the shoulder by the drunk who didn't like my jacket. He was rather talkative as well before that happened.
The next section of seating is actually my preferred section. It's the rows of seats between the disabled/elderly front area and the back exit door. Usually the back area is full, I'll explain why in a bit, but in this area there's usually always an open seat near the window at the stops where I get on. I like this part of the bus, preferably on the right hand side, because the other passengers are generally courteous and mind their own business which makes for a peaceful, problem free ride. I prefer the right hand side because I can observe both out the the front of the bus as well as the sides. Also, not that I'm a bad person or anything, but when the bus does start to get a little crowded, being a punk rocker, people still tend to avoid taking the empty seat next to me. Whatever.
And then there's the back of the bus... that section past the back exit door. There could be plenty of empty seats available on every part of the bus, but for some reason, every simple minded douchebag, lowlife, idiot, wannabe, posturing, dumbfuck, nosey, shady, moronic loser makes a fucking bee line for this part of the bus. Back there, it's like nobody can mind there own fucking business, everybody thinks they're cool, tough, slick, hard, etc. I hate to break it you, homeboy, but we're just not that cool, we ride the fucking bus! So yeah, I avoid that part of the bus if at all possible, simply because I prefer not to associate with these types and I pretty much like to be left alone when out in public. It's quite an adjustment to go from several years of getting around independently to suddenly being surrounded by complete strangers and personality types. I may attract attention but I certainly don't invite it, believe it or not, there is a difference. I'm generally friendly and courteous and mind my own business, all I ask for is the same in return.
In closing, what I would have to say about the Albuquerque public transit system is that it pretty much sucks! For a metro area with a population approaching a million, it's ridiculous! Most of the routes stop running by 8 pm, the routes are confusing and some are all over the fucking place, some only run during certain hours and weekend service can be down right appalling! Even the service in Santa Cruz, CA with a metro area population that is five times smaller had better bus service. I can pretty much get around fine during the day but after dark I'm on my own and have to plan carefully or rely on the generosity and goodwill of others. I guess I can choose to look at as either an adventure or a big fucking headache. At least there's choices I guess...

Hostage Situation: An Escape Attempt

It's suddenly dawned on me that I feel sorta like a prisoner. I've been to jail so I do have a basis for comparison, and yes, I know I can easily get up and walk out the door and leave, and yes, I know I'm the only one keeping me here in this room, and yes, I know this can probably be called a "pity party", however, I don't really see it quite that way.
I had planned on staying in yesterday hoping a friend whose currently in a world of shit himself, would accept the invitation I sent out via text, the day prior to stop by, but I never heard back. So I've, for the most part, been hanging out here in my room. I did step out for about fifteen minutes yesterday morning to the corner store to purchase a 24 oz cup of coffee where I was mildly irritated by a couple of simple minded idiot customers, one of whom felt the need to attempt to comment about the piercing in my septum. So after coming home and enjoying my coffee, did some laundry, took a shower, and went back and forth between browsing the web and reading the latest Christopher Moore novel all day and into the night before eventually falling asleep. I also smoked cigarettes periodically between those activities as well. I live with my brother so other than brief conversations with him, my only communication with the outside world had been through a couple conversations on Facebook chat.
I quit drinking almost eight months ago and consider myself a recovering alcoholic. Actually, this is my second time doing the "recovering alcoholic thing". Anyway, I go AA meetings once a week sometimes. They have a line in one of their readings called "the third step prayer" that says, "relieve me of the bondage of self". Bondage of self... I've always found those three words to be a clever combination. I hate to admit it, and not meaning to come off melodramatic, but I feel like I can relate with that at this moment in time. Yet at the same time, I ask myself, "what the fuck do you really want?!?" Okay, so yeah, I feel like a prisoner, a "hostage", like the title of this blog implies, I've cooped myself up in this room, a self exile of sorts, there's bars on the windows (nice!), however, if this room is a cell, it's a pretty fucking awesome cell! There's a queen size comfy bed, punk rock shit covering the walls and ceiling, a computer w/internet, a guitar with a 100 watt amp and cabinet... Okay, so why don't I leave? Well, it's sunny outside, yet it's windy and cold and I don't feel like dealing with the bus, plus there's nowhere in particular that I feel motivated enough to go to. Okay, am I lonely? hmm...good question. Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind company, but at the same time I can't think of anyone in particular that I feel like going out of my way to go see, call, text or make plans with. Am I hungry? No. Tired? No. Im running out of smokes though. I'd really like to quit. I'll probably ask my brother to drive me over to the Valero in a little while. I'd drive myself, but I'm currently not allowed to drive anymore due to a medical condition that has reemerged after twenty one years of lying dormant. I'm currently awaiting to see a neurological specialist to find out what happens next. I do a lot of fucking waiting these days... Besides my medical appointments, I attend mental health counseling twice weekly which I don't mind. I have a feeling that I'm going to be a frustrating case for them, but hey, this wasn't my fucking idea! Other than that, I waste the afternoon hanging out at an outdoor coffee shop across from UNM with my friend Josh a few days a week. Sometimes I go to a show and as mentioned, maybe go to a meeting or if I feel adventurous hop on the bus and explore.
I was playing in an established local hardcore punk band but haven't played music for over a couple weeks, I had to pull the plug on the band over bullshit and drama tied to secret drug habits and other nonsense. I also dumped my girlfriend Ashley over a month ago. Losing the band sucked. Losing the girlfriend didn't suck.
What the loss of both have in common, is losing them has definitely reduced my stress levels.
I've been all over the place in my thoughts since getting out of the hospital, in this perpetual state of limbo. There was a lot of uncertainty involved too, but some that's been slowly working itself out, it did however, create a little more in the process, but not as much, but there's still a lot of waiting and limbo. Can't help but wonder where I'll be and what things will be like three, six months, a year from now... but today I'll be a prisoner. Anyway, I gotta go buy smokes, see ya!