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Monday, September 29, 2008

I slip and the slope is longer than I imagine...

Can't figure it. My Dad was okay, it was good news, so why did I feel the need to blot out everything in my path?

Maybe what they say is true, that this 'disease'-once we get sober-becomes arrested and when we start up again it is always worse, with no exception.

(If my alcoholism had been arrested then it had been released on bail, tracked me down, and made me it's bitch...I was running this string out all the way to the end.)

I moved south of Mission, into a converted warehouse. My employers had to bring in an outside source to make sense of the mess I had made of their books and I hooked up with a small, independent record label, promoting records.

Not as glamorous as it sounds. It was 1987. A lot of booze. A lot of other drugs and very little music. Add the fact that I had no idea what I was doing and you get a pretty good picture.

I started to realize what withdrawal meant and what the hair of the dog could do. It was more like an entire dog, sometimes more than one and I was rapidly falling apart.

Any relationships I had cratered and I took one more stab at rich and famous. Or my idea of it, at any rate.

I was in a bar and met a sales rep for the Columbia School of Broadcasting. By the time I signed a contract, to include a guaranteed student loan to become a disc jockey, I was in a full on, free fall, blackout.

Years later some pinched face government wench, with the personality of a stomach cramp was demanding I pay back the money. She actually said, "The U.S. Government will not rest, Mr. Hill, until you have satisfied this obligation."

After I composed myself I felt compelled to ask what she could possibly know about satisfaction.

Then she hung up on me.

That was hardly fair. I wasn't through laughing.


Anonymous said...

Ladies and gentlemen, nitwits of all ages... I have the benefit of knowing the scribe of these pages. I can hear his voice as I read the post. OK I don't hear voices in my head... well not usually. His sarcasm and honesty are even more poignant in person. I have goaded him into providing a sample of his sultry radio voice for all to hear (see failed attempt at being a d-jay in an earlier blog).

The Norwegian who came in from cold.

Geoffrey Hill said...

I hear my voice far too often, but thanks for the idea my Viking Headcase...Ever listen to Norwegian Heavy Metal? They're screaming, "I'm fucking cold!!!" (In norwegian)

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...