This is MY junkyard

I work in a Junkyard. Ive said recently, that its the most interesting job Ive had in years, and indeed that is true. The pay isnt that great. There are no benefits. I have one uniform which I wash devotedly each and every night.

When I applied, I sought out to show off my skills as a man who could organize,count, and account for every item that passed through my fingertips. Its a job, close to home. I walk about 3 full minutes down the hill to work. 

Around the bend and through the trees, I can see, the Junkyard. Its wild, messy, intriguing, stinky, dirty, confusing, a sight most people could blink an eye at and forget.

I am terribly attracted to this amusement.

It mirrors in so many ways my own writing about the way Ive lived my life.  Its perfect. Its perfect in the sense that, its exactly the way it was meant to be.

Its bound tight with locks, chains,walls of cement, steel, and haphazardly built deterrents to ward off thieves.

When I write, I pile it up much like the automobiles, my Junk.  I stack it high and hope it doesnt fall. If I stack it just right, no one can really see the damage, it all just kind of blends together.  

When a customer calls for a part, its sometimes chaotic locating it. The lack of controlling the inventory has been lost somewhere along the way over the years. Its quite annoying, and frustrating. Sometimes we have said"Yes, we have that part!"  Only to discover we cant find it. 

 It reminds me of my emotions and how misplaced they often are. 

I inventory a whole vehicle as it arrives in the Junkyard, sometimes 2 or 3 at a time. I photograph it, take its detailed code plate information, number it, and its swept away for later on when it will be dismantled carefully, exposing the money making parts. 

Personally, when Im doing this, I frequently look at the damage closely, because inside, I want to imagine what happened?   Was it a joyride on a drunken evening that led to this end?  Is that blood on the windshield?  Of course I think this way because, there are no accidents. Everything is perfectly woven together exactly as it is to be.

I look at these wrecks and Im in awe. Its horrendous some of the cars I see, its hard to believe anyone made it out alive.   This is my Junkyard. Writing is my vehicle.

I dont always end up where I planned from the beginning, but at the very least I suppose, Im going somewhere.

I can relate my drinking to the literal Junkyard and the "other" Junkyard.

When I drink its just like neglecting to oil the engine of your car. In time, usually a short time, the signs of wear appear, and the noise begins, if youre lucky, to warn you, somethings not right. Go on have another, nothin to see here. Its not that bad, she'll keep drivin for a while, then, Ill see whats wrong, I promise.

I see a ton of wrecks come in every day, and I say, good thing Im not THAT bad. All rusty and shit. Burnt out, filled with broken parts that once were pristine and attached just where they were supposed to be. Now all bent out of shape piled up in the back seat half hangin out the back window. Its a mess.

Thats me, in my own Junkyard.

Once a car is dismantled, a list is generated and I get to work with my camera. Im an Auto Parts Paparazzi.

How perfect for an anal retentive over analytic Alcoholic.

The models have to be perfect, I inspect them closely, Id hardly feel good about a C class part.

I adjust the lighting as I want only the best features to show. Naturally, I go the extra mile and wipe off the grease, the dirt from the rim, the fog from the lens, and SNAP! Shes beautiful! 

It stuns me daily of the craftsmanship from which these parts come, large and small. The investment of time, energy, imagination,physics, mechanics, all of it comes together just right.

I on occasion photograph myself, and almost everytime, its a fake face, empty,boring, as if the factory of spirituality from which I came obviously had dozens of laid off spirits. Its NEVER a good shot. Its just some crap I can put in MY Junkyard. 

I much prefer to be photographed from some elses camera. Its more real. 

I take the part Ive just taken full advantage of, tag it, and stuff it away in a bus, a uhaul trailer, and its mostly there to sit, just as much like some realities I dont care to look at. Talent, skill, you know, the good stuff.

We recycle ALOT of stuff in the Junkyard. Wiring, cold rolled steel, Core parts,batteries, Gasoline, Oil, all sorts of stuff. From this point the leftovers once again made to be something useful or at the very least neutralized.  

 It dawned on me, that I recycle too, except the stuff I put back into my life stream is not changed at all. For instance my constant self deprecating mannerisms. I recycle them allright, and as they make their way around, they gather more Junk. Where do I put all this shit?

Then a Customer arrives to trade there old 53 Packard for scrap. And I wonder, did this guy hold onto this piece of crap for all these years just for sentiment? Its all rusted out, rotted to the core, tires so dry they flake away, wheel covers so dirty theyd never be recovered. Lights broken, never to cast a beam forward again. Did his wife nag him to rid himself, or herself of this pile?

Once again, I see myself doing this daily in my life. I consider changing or trading in an old idea for a new one carefully considering the sentimental value of the Old. When my friends tell me to"let go"....Can I?

Its much like buying a new car. Man it smells good, takes a while though to get used to how it drives. Wow,how sensitive the new brakes are, how shiny and egotistical it is, its like showing off. After a while you get comfortable in it, and when you once promised you wouldnt smoke in it, PUFF!, the smoke rises again. Its never the same as new. 

My main vehicle has been delicious booze. As of the past couple of years Ive tried new cars, like writing. 

Booze has taken me to alot of places, good and bad, casinos, ghettos,parks, parking lots,to hospitals,  to work, to jail, to beaches, to tricks' homes, to video stores to gloryholes....

In writing, I can safely leave my Junk where it belongs. I inventory it, I analyze it, I photograph it the best I can, I store it away, and finally I advertise it in the hopes someone else needs a part that Im all done using, and on occasion I recount it, to be sure its in its place.

I love my Junkyard.

408 days

                                                   

 What goes around, comes around

                                                              You get what you give


We've all heard these a million times. Do I believe in these very succinct realities? Sure...


   Its been an excruciating 8 months since Ive written; Writing being one of my finest releases, but not in the sense of talent, just that great gift of deflating.

I am a different person today than I was several months ago.  I suppose a bit of whats been going on might paint a picture of my evolution.....and so here we go.....

     As we all know, Im a drinker, a heavy one at that.    Last May, I was sober for the first time for over a year, until I decided to pick up that jug of delicious Brandy Disappear. I call it that,because when I consume it, I disappear!
    After I was charged with a DUI and evading responsibility(big surprise), an awful sequence of events have unfolded right up to this day.....408 days later, and I havent yet recovered from that drink.(Im not drinking literally now, I mean that the consequences are still unresolved)

   Since that drink, I have had several more occasions of selfish consumption,further compounding my problems,building the muscle mass of FEAR, Shame, Guilt, all my closest friends.

   The only difference this time, this past year,instead of just simply drinking and getting drunk, I feel and see my being, folding in upon itself, deeper, and deeper.  Ill try to detail what thats like.

    I suddenly and more-so as, days continue, have a sense that time is becoming limited for me. For the first time, I suppose the realness of "knowing" that Im not going to go on forever has sank at a crushing pace.  Im at once on the other side of times gift, for it is running out, rather than expanding.
                                                                         

   I hear all the time"Let it Go", "Give it to God", "stop feeling sorry for yourself", OK,  I hear you loud and clear, but I really think Im often misunderstood. I often express whats going on, not so much reaching out for sympathy, that was a game I played well, for a very long time.

    Anyway, Since the DUI last May, I have been buried in debt, scared to drive my truck,being uninsured,unregistered,and not having skills enough to earn a halfway decent living.  Borrowing monies to get by day to day, monies that I constantly have promised to payback only to accrue more debt. 
     Along this vein of insecurity, other things got lost or neglected in the mix, like truck repairs, maintenance, which as  of July 1st to the demise of Ol Truckety.

           Ode to Truckety (09/18/09-07/01/2013)

Truckety, O Truckety, you went so fast.....

Vroom, Vroom!

0 to 60 in just under 5 minutes, I will miss your strength and power.

My eyes are blurry with tears,now that you are gone,

So green and rusty you were, I always loved operating on you when you were broken.

Sometimes by flashlight your new radiator made you so cool, sometimes in the rain a new starter made you shiver! Ill never forget the time you got new brakes and stopped so quickly and responsively. We both cried that day , all covered in grease.

The wind in my hair, going round corners, you made me laugh. AHAHAHAHAHA

Vroom! Vroom!

Good bye Truckety, SAD FACE SAD FACE SAD FACE 

           As a sidenote, all my fear about driving the truck around illegally finally came to a head when it died while I was busy photographing Tutles layin eggs down at the beach.   As I was driving out of the beach entrance the fuel pump failed, and I came to a rolling stop.  Scared completely shitless, I knew Id have to call the cops, and ask for a tow.   Along he came right up behind me(not the circumstance in which I prefer a cop to come up to me but....)

and instantly knew with all of his computerized wizardry, knew I was completely illegal.   I was honest with him. Thats all it took and we had a civil conversation which ended with no ticket, no record. I was released of fear immediately.

     When Truckety was towed away and the after 14 days of being in a strangers autoshop,neglected, I was told the truck was shit and too expensive to repair, I was given a second reprieve from fear as I now dont have it to worry about, A blessing in disguise.

(Shortly thereafter being towed, I called into work late, and subsequently was fired, another huge loss) 

   


     The inability to get medications I require for nearly a year now, the dentist which I cannot afford, gums rotting to the point of pain now, I can literally taste my jawbone decaying.

   I get a million suggestions like, Karl go get State Insurance, ahahaha, in our State of CT the backlog is about 8 to 9 months, at which time your application was already tossed away on the 60th day because it expired,never seen at all. And so the ball continues rolling....    I was asked by a passer by on the street the other day,that "You have AIDS? Youre so thin!"  I was deeply saddened. And for that I was critiqued as well, as if negative emotion ought not exist. Or at least not be spoken of.
   Ive naturally always been thin, and now maybe a few pounds lighter, but it makes sense when yo go on the stress FULL diet.  Combine that with a side of homelessness, little direction, and slow as molasses change towards taking steps forward.

      Seeking out a new job via bicycle and a bookbag,  Im sure isnt very appealing. But thats what Im doing. I start my day at 2am at my friends house, we drive to Milford, where, I get my bike out of his truck and ride around town for a couple of hours.I more often than not, just sit at the train station, its well lit, safe, and once in a while a good looking guy appears to take a train, a small pleasure of mine is people watching.
      I find a dollar almost everyday, so careless are the bar hoppers.  Then that dollar goes into the basket each morning, for that dollar didnt belong to me anyway. So thats at 8 am.  Then I go and get a coffee and start to worry.  The suns up, the humidity has been pretty thick, and for me to sweat in my clothes that I might have to interview in, is a concern. I cant show up looking like I just ran a marathon.   I grow very tired as I peddle around going nowhere. Where does one go when he has no destination? Its incredibly crazy inside my head, all I want is to cry, scream.   Where do I go? Where do I go? Over and over again.  
   I think to drink often, because then I can disapear!   But I dont. I just grind my teeth, and then my gums feel worse.

My bookbag is critical to me, I carry a gallon bottle of ice water which by 7am is already completely melted and condensated so much my bag is sweating.  I also carry resumes, a hoody, a pen, some mail, I cant respond to, a Bee Culture magazine,because I looove BEES.  My Truck plates are in there too, eventually Ill return them to DMV,but the postage rates are a bit high for my budget and income. I laugh hysterically about that,only because its crazy.  

    When I moved out of my Castle apartment, I was dumb enough to put all of my belongings,ie furniture, Lampy, my tools, and all of my critical filing cabinet into a storage facility, for which now, I cannot pay for. The demise? It will all be lost.   Should I....am I allowed to be depressed by such a notion? Nope, not according to some.   This is why I dont call many people, I rarely have any good news. Who wants to hear it?   I manage to create my own crisis,by simply waking up.(I did not plan my move very wisely, not to mention I hadnt consulted with a single soul about it.)

    I go to the Public Library where I pretend I have important things to do, even though the sweat and despair is all over my face, they know I have no place to go.  
     There are other men that appear, that I hadnt previously noticed.I was too busy being better than those guys, working, and suggesting they ought stop bein lazy.  These men are homeless too, staying either at the local shelter, or sleeping down under the pavillion, on the ground, no blanket,no nothin.   They are creatures of habit much like myself.  I see one who carries a green grocery bag, he just walks all day. I wonder whats goin on his head. I see another, whom talks to himself, ALOT.  It was once told to me that talking to ones self was a trait of brilliant men, so next time you wanna impress someone, go into a corner and start talkin, boy will they be jealous!

  After about 9am, I leave the coffee shop, and bicycle my way down the Post Road avoiding if I can the eventual accident. Please watch out for bicyclers! I go check my PO Box, and then for the next 4 hours I go and sit somewhere,usually a park, and wait. What the fuck am I waiting for?    I daydream, about being a porn actor, a notion I once pursued, then I remember, I look like I have AIDS, so forget it.  I also dream about having the finances to go about studying things I really do enjoy, like BEES, turtles, the outdoors instead of this fantasy world where I have to rinse in the fake, and repeat, like so many others do daily.
     I dont know what brought them to this place in their lives, I clearly understand how I got here. Its been a month and a few days Ive been doing this cycle, first I was sleeping in the truck, and now for the past 2 weeks by bicycle.

    I have been offered jobs and a place to stay, by people whom love and care about me. But first and foremost,they love themselves, a bridge from which my heart and my mind havent quite connected.
                                                                 

   I went into New Haven this week to apply for shelter.  Only 2 to 3 weeks for the paperwork to go through. Wow, in 2 to 3 weeks a man can grow wildly crazy, and kill themselves either by accident or by intention. Dont get me wrong thats not my plan, but for some alcoholics that window is a lifetime.  I have support, whenever. Wherever,but I havent got the balls to accept. I wish, and I probably shouldnt, that I could cast aside all the emotions,consistently in order to move forward.  My emotions are killing me, because Im letting them.

408 days since that drink.  What a dumb Fuck.  

    

    
   
   

   

Happy New Year!!!!

     It happened all by the universal chance.  

   I dont know how....I dont ask many questions...


A soul , Ive been aware of ,overdue by 4 years.....came into my day, by pure chance. A text, as like so many I recieve...I thought at 119 am three days after new years,I thought it it was a drunken idea.....It was(name hidden due to privacy.)

   A man struggling himself a time ago,by the economics, we had chatted, a battered relationship he was in, and me, bein drunk most of the time...it was purely casual.
  I texted him back.... I said" hello" "I am well"......

   And yesterday he came to me,we had simply planned on coffee and catching up... , again, by chance in person, not a text between, we talked, ate, made love, and again, and again. Kissed, drank water, as if for the first time....


 When we kiss, Its so amazing, his eyes are like fire and his smile abound ,it never ends....so special a notion. A smile so wide, I can hardly stand it, my eyes close slightly as if I were in a cloud floating , far far away.......Like magic. Then I open my eyes and their he is, alive, and ready to journey once again.....

   My heart started beating suddenly, fast and painful at first, Had I forgotten this gem of an organ in my body? My soul alive, Im hyper, out of control of my thoughts.....  He listens, he laughs, hes gold....   What is Gold?   I have no clue, its not a color.

   Then he got hungry for actual food. We drove to Bridgeport to a famous chicken house we know and craved, but we couldnt find it!   I was mad, he wasnt, he said, "Relax, we'll get what we are after", I said, "Fine!"

  After several talks with SIRI the magical womanly voice of the GPS gods, we got lost.   Thats what happens, when you listen to her!.   

He asked me to make a promise enroute, and I agreed.   Its none of your business what it was that he asked, Im just sayin!

   We got the chicken, and bolted into Milford where Id share my favorite park with him, in the middle of the night, freezing cold, one lighter, and bag o chicken. The godamn park was closed.

So with a fistful of chicken we went back to my house, and enjoyed every bite of food, seeing as we had just spent most of our physical fuel on one another.

  Chicken stuck between our teeth and eager hormones, we loved again, I kept mentioning the time so he could plan to drive home safely, not exhausted.    He finally relented to his pleasure of company and stayed.   His clothes came off, right to the floor, I moved them to the chair. 

  He laid in my bed......I took a moment to view this beautiful body before me. But it wasnt just any body, it was his, bronze, chromatic skin and smooth, sharp muscle, with strength in the bones only a body like his can withstand.  MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...........

   What a thrill.....I dove right in next to him, it was warm, comfortable and we began to entwine....

He speaks of dreams hopes, and realities....like a stargaze.

I am overwhelmed today.    I am glad.    I thought I was finished with my heart a long time ago, perhaps I have been wrong, the whole time.

"Ask for Help"

   Thats what men in my life continue to tell me..."Ask for Help".  And So I have, and not to mention some very serious footwork to boot.

   As I believe, most of the fall out of my drinking escapades back in May have finally settled.

Today, my license to drive is suspended,my insurance cancelled, and my registration canceled too. I cannot pursue or finish CDL school.  I am homeless.  I also have court dates to answer to, and the requirements to fulfill are reasonable, though challenging considering the risks involved.  

   No one has dared to ask how to get out of a quandary such as I have created for myself.

I am going to share what I have done so far and will continue to do so, until I am once again in the green.

   Back in May after the drinking, the Overdose, I went to a Rehab in Bridgeport, it was cramped, weird, but helpful, as its an environment thats not very cozy at all.  20 men all in various stages of recovery, from all sorts of substances is a tough place to be. Mood swings aplenty, crying, laughing, denial,anger,frustration, teasing, sleeping, eating.....15 minute mtgs every other day with a counselor...

   I left after 2 weeks of 4.  I appeared in Court in New Haven to answer to charges of evading, DUI and failure of many other things, like stopping.   I was provided an attorney whom, at first was cold and callous, until I told him the truth about where Ive been, where I desire to go, and what significant sobriety efforts I have made. We ended our first meeting on the positive.

   The DMV meanwhile, has summoned my Physician through paperwork to decide whether or not I am mentally stable enough to drive....?  Since when does the State have this power? Since when do they not need to heed the HIPPAA law? Since when does the state have the opportunity to attach a name to conditions I might or might not have without my permission?

   So to that end, I currently face 2 different Judgements, one from Superior Judgement, and the other from the State.  

   I have never been diagnosed with a mental condition, other than depression.

So far some of the requirments of the Court are to attend an evaluation by a court ordered psychiatrist to figure out how much Alcohol education I need, as if Im not an expert already. Now dont get me wrong, Im not upset at all of this idea. It simply makes no sense.  Its like telling a Fat man all about McDonalds, and the dangers!

Personally, Id prefer to do community service.

Should I complete these classes, I will be able to restore my License in October. Its not that far off.
I continue to drive despite these imposed handicaps. I risk 30 days in jail, a huge fine, and possession of my Truck if I get pulled over.

   This reality that I have before me extends far beyond my truck, it also affects my ability to get a job. Any background check will reveal these charges.  Luckily, I have some reputable relationships with a handful of Temp agencies and have been able to secure a job as of a couple of weeks ago. I drive to this job every day. Each time I get in the truck, I get scared.

   Another requirement of the State is a special insurance I will have to buy and have for the next 3 years called SR-22.    Its like a promissory note, stating that I will insure my vehicle. It will cost a small fortune.   All the restoration fees, registration,license,  and fines will really add up.

   Again, I am not upset by these conditions either, I asked for this. Im not thrilled, but its better than jail, and way better than having to live the rest of my life knowing I killed someone, or harmed another,permanently.

   About Homelessness.  Since rehab in June, I have sought other remedies such as long term rehab, shelters,and the like. I approached two different rehabs simultaneously for weeks, and in the end, the need of a physical was a huge barrier, for my health insurance does not cover it. So walk in clinics, emergency rooms, do not do physicals unless you have cash in hand or if its purpose is for work or school.  Its expensive to get a physical. What I dont understand is if health insurance is to "insure" and prevent further illness whatever that might be, why isnt a physical covered to further care?

   I drove to a mobile van, provided and funded by Yale. I got the physical, submitted by fax all the relevant information, Finally to the 2 rehabs, only to be turned away as now, I have been"sober" too long. They prefer I come directly from a detox instead. So much for asking for help.

   My Supervisor at School gave me a number to a man whom he thought could help me. I called and to my worst nightmare it was a Christian Ministry Service, offering an 18 month program where I would be required to be in a choir, repent for my so called "sins", Preach, and give away to God my Gay, my world in exchange for faking my life.  I dont think that is for me. Subsequently, I sent him a copy of this entire Blog, and I never heard from him again. HAHAHAHAHA! (Havent I spent enough time on my knees throughout my life?!)

   Shelters these days are packed as are food bank lines.....Some fair amount of men woman, and children whom have never been in these lines before, mostly due to the economy.  Its not a good time to be an addict. LOL. At least I still have AA to fall back on. I miss sorely my New Haven groups,my friends....Its too risky a drive. These days I stay as local as I can.

   I decided I best get working and so I got a job, creating busy time keeps me out of trouble and out of the liquor store.  In due time...and a couple of paychecks from now I will be able to rent a room.

   I have come to understand very clearly, that I do not live with others very well. And so I wont do that again. I can work, and play with others just fine.



   I have another job interview coming up this week, its for a prominent machine shop, which I have been eying now for some time.

   I have begun a counseling relationship, which I havent done in years. This ought to help with being depressed leading to obsessive drinking.

   My intent with this writing is to expose some of the back shadows of recovering, that most people haven't a clue about. Its different for everyone. But this is my story and along this journey I have been told to treat it as an adventure rather than a punishment. I feel like it IS an Adventure. I can do this and learn.

   All this is the mere physical and daily to dos but I havent spoken much about the spiritual aspect of all of this.  I am caught between two thoughts about it. I have faith in AA. I ask God for help each morning that I might help another.   Thats about it.


    FIN

A new day.....

   This will be the last "Whoa is me" posting  to this blog. Now I am NOT stopping Blogging, just the negative self talk I see in it isnt helping my Recovery.


   Today, I am pleading out No Contest in the halls of Justice so that I can avoid my egos need to fight, and perhaps to put some of the damage behind me.

   This last bout of drinking has created circumstances in which, I have no control over, and I need help.

   I have been severely depressed now for many years, even years before I picked up my first drink. Drinking has been but a symptom.

I am homeless these days, sleeping part time at a friends house and when warranted I sleep in my truck.   I lost my job, last week, due in part because of my inconsistency and the fact that I have no place to make meals, put my clothes, or function properly.  The distress it causes my body is gross.

   I cant rent a room,cuz I have no job, and I cant look for a job, because I have no proper address. Its a catch 22.  

   After today, I plan on taking whatever Judgement is passed onto me, for it is my responsibility. The Big Book of AA, says all of this in so many words. It equals, at the end of the day, Freedom.

As for the past month, I have been in two treatment centers, both of which I have signed myself out of early so that I might appease my EGO.  My EGO continues to fake me out with a shroud of FEAR.  What will become of me if I get the real help I need?  

This is all the same crap I have been doing for over 2 decades.  The res no surprise here.

  Silver Lining? Sure, I can stop fighting. I can start living. I can also help someone else see that they themselves do not need to ride this merry go round nightmare.

   So, Heres to HOPE............Its a New Day

Close Encounter with the END kind....

As of recent I haven't written as much...  I have been isolating...Isolating to the degree of fragile stateliness within myself.  
 
    And as a result a new implosion, explosion, whatever you'd like to call it has occurred. Its raining today, but I see sun rays. It is impossible to put into words the impact of holding on to things that have no value, for such a long time.

   I am truly a loving man, at least I like to think, though I have discovered over a period of time, stewing in my own shit that I can finally see, beyond.


   Over the past 12 or so weeks, I have been pointing fingers, doubting myself, and blaming others, for my self developed heartache. My pain can only be expressed as denigrating, debilitating, and selfish beyond most measures I have ever encountered in sobriety. This  is a swing of the rope of stability I can hardly handle.  

   The GRAVITY has finally fallen hard.



I have been drinking recently. I watch men each and every day, wondering how in the hell they cope so seamlessly with things that I cannot face. It is within the realm of spirituality that I have found some answers. I am ever thankful for getting some tiny grasp of this in my life when other mens lives are ending.  I also appreciate to the utmost the misunderstanding for those whom never encounter such relevance within their time.

   This week, on June 4, I overdosed on seemingly  harmless percocet so that I might sleep for I hadent slept one night in a 2 weeks rush.   I was at my very dear friend Charlies house where I had this prescription(Reservation) for more than a year.  I ate a few(6) and laid down to sleep imagining I was just 18 and would wake up just fine the next day. Im 36 years old.  Over the next 2 hours Charlies entire household was awoken by the terror that filled Charlies heart when he could not get me to come to.  Horsing around as usual like I do, he thought I was joking, but within minutes he knew something was wrong and that attention was regarded as high account.
 

  Eyes rolled into the back of my skull and my breathing almost completely done, lips blue, a minute, a moment, none to spare the EMT came and whisked me away to a hospital where for the next 72 hours they converted the poison to life......a miracle, a word I hardly ever use.  

I cannot even for a second grasp the reality that had filled my best friends heart that night, the next day, and the following.

   Within a few moments of selfishness, I managed to rock the world of my fellow AA's, my landlord, my roommate, my friends and my employer. I just wanted to sleep.

  But there is alot more that lead up to this event that has perfected my thinking about the way I live.



Memorial weekend, I was pulled over in my Truckety for DUI, and an expired license, and complete irrationality, I hit someones car.  I do not remember ANY of it.  I have no defense. I was out of myself so far that place, I like so much, that place where nothing matters and anything I do is just forgotten.....I awoke in a hospital bed, restrained 4 points with a spit hood on.  

    After leaving the hospital at 245 in the morning, I walked home from New Haven to North Haven in a speed race of about one hour.    The next day I bought more liquor and walked into the woods hoping I might pass their, by myself and all would be done.     I again awoke in a hospital, apparently someone found me passed out and brought me their. Again, no recollection.

    I completely came apart at the seams, neglecting dear friends, my stones, my foundation.  I again drank, for another few days until, I admitted myself to a rehab detox, which, of course I signed myself out of, just 12 hours early to go to Charlies, leading to the DOSE.


    As an Alcoholic Im a natural planner of my OWN destiny. Fuck God, Fuck advice,Fuck Suggestions.

   There is still more that is even behind all of this that I have held onto like a death grip for needless, pathetic uselessness.



   I moved into a house about 2 months ago out of necessity of shelter.   I did not not in my mind imagine what I was about to encounter. A house completely filthy, broken, unmanaged, and sorely neglected.   I needed a home a place I could feel comfort. Instead all I could see smell and taste was cat piss.  I spent the greater part of my time after work, power washing, organizing, degreasing, and sanitizing this place for my own healths sake. As a result I neglected once again, my own bigger need, AA meetings.   A pictorial will follow of the work I had put in.  Cat feces scattered the basement floor as well as the beautiful hardwood floors on the living levels of the home. I Spent more time abusing my roommate than being helpful in my hurried need for cleanliness. Many repairs were due in the home that were over looked, such as a broken sink, broken, A/C, ripped screens and the like.    

     As a typical Alcoholic, we often place ourselves in a position to be hurt later on. My expectations were severely miscalculated, and I hurt as a result.    I lost work days from cleaning and getting very,very ill from all the cat shit.   But now the house is decent and smells more like a home should.

     I tried to micromanage the household of 3 grown men. I regret having not remembered the simplicity of understanding the difference between those things which I CAN can control and those which I cannot. I 'thought' I was being helpful.
 




   I am currently experiencing a separation from a very prominent man in my life, whom was my first love.

   And in the words of my favorite pop artist, "I miss our talks, the universal law
You had a way of seeing through my flaws

It's so confusing, I thought I met my match
An intellectual with talent what a catch "



   I will never ever be able to replenish the joy you have provided in my life several hundreds of times. The emails, the love notes, the endless poetry....the sight of goodness always prevailing, despite my cloudy outlook.     You have saved my life, when I was just 19 from a cocaine overdose. Came to love kitties and a blooming alcoholic all just to get closer to your family, your son. It is perfectly symphonic, the way it is all playing out.   A friend, a lover, never out of sight, my cabinets might be empty if it wasnt for your generosity and total understanding.
    The never ending phone calls and always ending with, I love you...so touch my heart.


I am only beginning to know what you have apparently have in your heart, joining a community for change, shining into peoples lives wherever, whenever...Dinner parties with whimsical muse we hosted such wonderful engagements, creating everlasting relations with people we might have never come in touch with otherwise, our love was special and it shone.


   I might not not care much about the bigger picture of the earth, the world, had I not met you. You set me up for a beautiful start to LIVING. Thank you.   I think, I care, I believe because, of you. When we met, I hadnt much on my plate other than the thought of where my next meal might come from.   The eye opening films, ideas, literature, and introspect......I can not ever displace. Its far too real.  Its engrained.

I hope that this current blog bleeds of gold that, if it hurts, share it.  If you hold on, youll go down with it.   Its NOW , not yesterday or tomorrow. Today I am guilty of NEGLECT. of my friends, my employers, and God.    Finally, I realize.

Drunk again.....

   I was recently asked by a friend,"Why havent you blogged as of late"?

   Truth be told, I have been steeping in a hot simmering bath of self loathing and pity.   A common feature of this Alcoholic.

   I picked up the bottle again, in the past month.  It was a short drinking binge.  A few giant bottles of Blackberry Brandy.   It went down well enough.....I did too.    I was alone.  I chose to be alone. I rented a hotel room, and I drank in solitude. A type of torture in hindsight. I planned it. I acted on my desire to be free of the right way of living.

    For those of you who dont know me well, Im a fairly nervous guy. I have plenty of reason to be so. I come off in person as confident, outspoken, judgmental.  All decent covers for who I am on the inside.

   I had been sober for 13 months before I picked up again. It is the first significant effort I have ever made to discover, who I am, and why I do the things I do.  It is a journey of self, that has its share of rough roads, cloudy skies, tears, and laughter, for its certainly by no means an easy ride.

  I have for the past 18 years been running on high levels of anxiety and regular negatory self talk, and lifestyle. I punish myself most everyday at some point.  Where did I learn this seamless constant stream of nonsense?

Anyway, thats alot to delve into and I will try to put into words, what its like.

   After my binge, I had to detox...in other words, shake, sweat, pain so deep in the bones it hardly seems decent enough to be alive. Hollowed out and scared shitless, the shakes come on, so great it feels like the joints will come apart.....God gone, nowhere in sight, the mercy it seems will never come....It hurts so bad....For me it takes about 4 days of shaking....Palpitations on the regular, as if the chest will open right up and spit my heart out.    My poor friend Charlie watched me go through this again, hes seen it several times.   I stink to high heaven, first of alcohol, then Urea, a piss like smell, due to the reaction in the body of practical poisoning, the kidneys working so hard, they felt kicked in severely for a few days, I was worried and considered going to the hospital. But pride steps in and I face it like a "man".. RIIIGGGHHHTTTT......All I can do is lay down and wait, paralyzed again....Fear filled and shamed, all by my own hand.   Most everyone I know is wondering where I am, whats going on, and why I disappeared, but they already know, because they know me.  A day passes, and I havent slept, the discomfort of my shell is unbearable...."Take me away"....Thoughts come and go as easily as my responsibilities. To myself and to others.   You see, when I pick up, it does more damage than what this little body gets, it spreads out into the community and hurts others too.  Vivid REM sleep provides me with nightmares and real, really real visions of terror I can create in my head.  Short stints of this and its hardly worth closing my eyes.   I crave and wait, crave and wait, Booze would would stop this terrible event, but its booze that got me here in the first place.  So I have to keep moving forward.

   After a few days the self pity sets in, and I trudge forward....carefully, and really nerve shocked, I can barely drive without being so frightened that I only go for cigarettes and then retreat, off the road to the safety of home.

   Lately, because of the most awesome efforts I have made in the past year, I can safely put aside the pity party early, clean up and start again. I have learned an immense lesson here, this time.

   I asked myself, how does such a small body manage to contain so much, jealousy, hatred,self loathing, judgements, deadening comparisons,fear, low level self esteem, ego, pride, confusion, and sheer neglect of the obvious? How does the heart not blow right out? It takes some serious practice and belief to hold on to such things.   It becomes such a fantasy to believe sometimes....but does it?

   What I hadnt realized during the past year, is that the same shit that used to haunt me as a teenager, as a result of an awful upbringing, wasnt ever, drowned out by 18 years of drinking, and the nerves, and the thoughts that I have in sobriety are still as immature and unreal as they were when I was 15.  This thought makes me sick, but its true.  I have barely grown inside more than an ounce since I picked up my first drinks, in a Mc Donalds parking lot, in 1993. This stunning revelation is just that.

   In the past year I have had great success at facing some of my most ugly behaviors and results. However,on the other hand, I havent explored the reasons behind such things. It comes easily to me, to confess, to share, to admit.   Its whole other pie when it comes down to looking at how my own talk in my skull has detached me from reality.

   "Youll never amount to anything,just like your Father"  "I wish I had aborted you", "Your just gonna be a fag"  " I wish you would die" ......These are words of my Mother......

"You cant do nothin right"  You dont deserve this after all the shit youve done" "What a  piece of shit"  "Completely useless"  "You dont even look halfway decent"   "Everybody looks better than me"  "You look sick"   "Why bother trying?" ......These are now my own words in 2012.....practice,practice,practice....   You tend to learn by example, and if it isnt really looked at through the lense of reality....I will continue to suffer and drag those whom I love and those who love me, through a hell hole, or even worse turn their backs and save themselves.


    I have a twisted sight of my life.....as if the awful parts are still in front rather than behind. Im not a typical fag, I try to distance myself as hard as I can from the stereo types, as if its something negative...I judge, I run, I scoff at reality.

   I compare, because I havent accepted that I am gonna be me as long as I live, no amount of money, make up, cars, jobs,standards will change this fact.   Only whats in my head, in time, if I can be patient enough, can and will shift.  Apparently from what I hear, is when these very basic ideas have been looked at analyzed and perceived differently,can happiness ever be connected to the heart.

   I love my brains, but I pray on the daily that the thoughts that I have been able to change in the past year, will reach my heart and that I will start crying not out of pain, but of joy.


   The anxiety that I experience such as with school(Im learning to be a big rig truck driver)....Is huge, I have alot of self doubt, shame, a sense that I cant.  When I drive to school, I am so nerve wrecked I can barely concentrate.  I love trucks, I love the grease , the filth, the masculiness of the lifestyle, and the freedom that comes along with it.   But I hesitate.  I run when it gets too hot in the kitchen.....I get all afraid, then I have a hissy fit.  Just like a teenager might when he or she doesnt get what they want.    This is just an example.

   The practice of projection comes easy to me, I learned it by believing what my Mother said"Youll be just like your Father"   I never forgot it, and I practiced projecting from then on in.....Truly those words made their way to my heart and sealed inside for a lifetime, thus far.  I project that I will die alone, maybe drunk, maybe not. I project that I will likely die of a heart attack. I project that I will be average in all the ways of life, forever.  I project I will get sick, and not be able to recover.  I always project I will never have a partner that I can share love with.   I also more importantly project that I will never love myself enough to love another to begin with.

   During the past year, I have been so thrilled opening up Pandora's box of goodies that is ME.  Some of the stuff, I explored is copable within the confines of another Alcoholic....The sharing the understanding, the tears that come from knowing that some of these things I do not hold exclusively to myself.

   Then there are the much more significant sorts of ideas that I have in my head that must be explored with a professional, something I have not considered.  I am not a mental case, just strewn along the incorrect path, harboring long held beliefs that if not dealt with, will kill the soul inside. I dont wanna die. Not yet.  I have barely scratched the surface of what makes me, ME.


    Forgive me for lacking in the blogosphere........I have returned.

Never let where you start dictate the destination.