just a taste...

Chapter 32
People need love.

This time, the idea is so warped and starved I became someone else, someone I would grow to loathe.

For affection. Attention. Human touch.

However packaged they will always confuse the fastest feeling there…confuse it with love.
I received what I missed from not drinking, the feeling of love, warmth, all is right with the world, (which really only happened once,) and I spent the rest of my life chasing it and missing.

I received it by working private parties. For Bachelorettes.

Birthday parties. Girls’ night out.

Whatever.

I found I had worked out too much. Noticed at lunch, approached, and said yes, sounded like fun. I did not hesitate. My ego answered for me. I gave it complete control.

I began acting entirely selfish and narcissistic. I am that normally, but this was abnormal. I slept with many women. I made money.

I did not know who I was anymore.

I ran the string out on this one stone cold sober. Almost 13 months. I can always not drink and use things other than drugs and alcohol to alter my reality and quite often do.

I lasted till almost Spring.

I took a last minute flight to Hawaii with six hundred dollars in my pocket. One way.

I boarded my flight about the same time a Mother I had slept with was finding out she shared this same distinction with her daughter. As was the husband and Father. Two miles from the Airport.

I can imagine that did not go well.

No one knew I was at the airport.

My co-workers at my office job, (the other was just part time) thought I had gone to lunch. I did. Right after I cashed in my terminal leave. I called the taxi from my office.

I had sobered up and started working for a Government entity.
With benefits.

You can understand a drink or two after the seatbelt sign went off.

What you are, we used to be...

It's been six months or so since the last post.
Odd. It used to be a daily occurrence. However, the content of this blog is the basis for the book I am writing.

A book, about me, my life as seen and lived by me. My memories.

They may not be yours.

Any of you.

I have a mere 130 pages so far, as I still have a day gig, my writing time is when I can find it, and it's the most honest effort I have attempted at if not understanding my life, but getting to a place where it could be of value to someone else. If nothing else, a cautionary tale. But it is not a primer on "bad behaviour." Nor a primer on "alcoholism", "addiction" or just being a selfish shit heel. It is simple, my story.

I've been sober almost three years and I find my self completely dedicated to writing this book. I am not a dedicated guy. At anything.


Yet I am focused.

I find myself writing in the weekly Motel where I've taken up lodging. I have every thing I need, as my belongings always were few, so it's a good fit.

Interesting place. Everyone living here, a couple of days, four months, whatever, is on their way to or from something.

Some are settled in waiting for the weird to wear off.

However long that may be.

I keep to myself,ask no questions, am friendly when spoken to, and pay my rent on time. I never have visitors. My made in India, 1980 Royal Enfield motorcycle sits in the first space next to the front door. This is an Indian owned establishment.

To them, I am the coolest American ever. Fathers and Uncles all had Royal Enfields, they say.

I am the Raj.

There is a cost to the dedication I am showing for my writing. It is costing me friendships, as I find I have to relive moments in my life to get them on page, and my behaviour may be affected.

This is not an easy book to write.

There are consequences.

I'm in love with a dead jazz singer...

The title of this is misleading. I was only peripherally aware of Amy Winehouse when she was alive, but now, with her passing, I'm terribly saddened.

I have watched all of her performances on you tube, as well as interviews, and in her voice I can hear every reason why she was so troubled.

I am particularly haunted by her version of, "Will you still love me, tomorrow?"

A lot of us have had an "Amy" in our life, someone we love and have to walk away from because we can't bear to watch the self destruction.

Some of us are the "Amy" and continue to believe the lie that addiction wraps up and presents to us in so many different guises, looking for that weak spot, that will allow it to take hold.

I pray the "Amy" I had to walk away from doesn't end with that phone call, the one that seems to always happen late at night, the one that you can't wish away or ever take back, and as soon as you hear the words spoken on the other end, your life changes, permanently from that moment.

There is still time...

The deadline approaches...

I gave myself until September to have the first draft of the manuscript finished. I'm on Chapter eight, just finished actually, and it looks like I may need more time. I didn't know I could remember so much...

It's good for me to write the truth, of who I was and probably still am, to a large degree.

Had I had the insight I have now 30 years ago...well, a lot would be different, but I wouldn't have the material needed to finish this project.

I finally get it. The life that was given to me and the life I've lived were so this could be written.

Now I understand.

Just checking in...

Still here. Working on the book, and it's coming along better than I could hope.
Medical issues still a hassle, but I guess it's the price of living long enough for stuff to start breaking. Lucky me.

Still sober and once again have quit smoking. Over 2 years sober, and 30 days today without a cigarette.

Visit to the cardiologist on the 18th. Nothing wrong, just having a stress test to see where things stand.

My oldest brother died when he was five years older than I am now. First (and yeah..only) heart attack. Died after work, walking to his truck in the parking lot to go home.

Procedure on the compression fracture of my C5 vertebrae on the 10th of August.

I will not go quietly...

An update from the end of Spring...

The book is coming along better than I expected, so yes, I'm still writing. But it's been some time since I checked in on the Blog, so keeping things current, here you go...

I should be licensed and legal on my old British motorcycle within a month or two and and that's the closest thing I can think of to being in tune with a higher power. I can hardly stand the wait...

Trying very hard to get my own place by the middle of the summer.I lost that gift by my own actions two years ago and I will not forget how hard it's been to get back to having my own spot on the planet. (room mates are NOT my thing) When I do, I have been given the option to work from home and I'm taking it.I'm an isolationist by nature and that would be, as they say, the cats cooch.

Some of my friends in recovery have been given the gift of "things getting better" in a big, sudden bundle. I have received that gift before, several times, and I instantly took it for granted and screwed it up in spades.
So this time, over the last two years, not counting willful mistakes of self, I am being parceled out "improvements" in doses, a bit at a time. This two years has been my journey into delayed gratification, and I think I can accept why, and experience a level of grateful humility in that acceptance.

I am now at a place of digging middle age, realizing the lessons of the past and what they were for.

I can now accept being in love with someone that I'm not with, and watch her grow in her own way, from afar, while understanding that while our "outsides don't match" our connection on the inside still does...

Recently two people I have known in recovery have passed on, one just today, and I saw them go through the horrors of cancer with grace and peace and sobriety. I'm superstitious regarding that deaths like this happen in three's, and If I am unknowingly the third,(and I promise I'm not trying to be) I don't want a memorial, I want my friends and family to take a day and have a giant lunch together and eat till they get tired, and for that day don't follow the rules; laugh, eat, and for those not in recovery, drink and dance and howl at the moon, and find at least one "authority figure" and declare them "silly" and if brave enough, give 'em the finger, it's on me...

Dreams can come true... if we wait long enough.

Just picked up my bike. It's brilliant! (not to mention a sexy little motorcycle) 206 miles on it, great shape, new tires, two extra gas tanks, new helmet, gloves and ballistic nylon/armored jacket (with tags still on them) and all free because two guys chose to get sober and clicked as real friends. The bikes never even been registered, I shall be the first.

Take off the pillion seat, (I ride alone) put on clubman handlebars,get a new battery and registration (and insurance) and I will have the bike I've dreamed of for the past fifteen years. Pretty awesome day, and thanks all around.

My next goal is a place of my own (my job has offered me the option of working from home,) and after that, publish my book before the end of the year. My plan is to have it finished by September 1 and have it sent out by then.
Just have to stay focused, believe and breathe...
.

That about covers it...

I live to fulfill my own dreams and aspirations. And I do it by my standards. If you find my actions, my intentions, to be wrong, well I'm sorry.

Those are your opinions on my outward appearance. How you see me through your eyes. If you like, I can pluck them out for you.

Maybe then, when you have nothing to judge except me, the real me, we'll be on the same page about things.

so it begins...

I now have a 343 page manuscript, (double spaced for manuscript submission) with 61 chapters to edit, re-write and flesh out by Sept 1. Writing my blog for three years gave me all the material I need. here goes...oh, fyi, if at one time in my life we interacted, and I said I wouldn't blog about you, I kept my promise. I never said you wouldn't make the book.

Ok Muse, you're on notice...

I'm giving myself from March 1, tomorrow, till September 1 to finish my novel. I will still blog a bit, and possibly post passages from key chapters...just know, I'm busy.

a stuck spot...

The previous post was written three months ago. How odd. I am in exactly the same state today.

While there have been many changes over the past three months, it would seem some things remain as they were.Time for active, non-static change.

More than just a change in outlook, a change in perspective, or a change in choice.

Something drastic this way comes...

When you come to a fork in the road pick it up...

He realized that slow, sluggish starts were simply the backwash of messy endings. For something to begin, something needed to end, and for him, it was never clear and concise.

He was at one of those places, the universe doing it's thing, bringing him to a new chapter, while throwing the last chapter into a shredder. It was increasingly difficult to hang on to shreds. A few crumpled pieces in his tightly clenched fists, with the rest collecting around his feet, and blowing intermittently across a pebbled parking lot.

He knew what he needed to do. Just couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted a neat, surgical ending and a bright and shining beginning, which was impossible while chasing confetti.

Clutching and grasping, he would collect some remnants, and chase the rest, missing most, and losing the few he held on to while grabbing at the remains.

It had been his experience that when things fall apart, they were in fact falling together, but this time the ride was losing bolts and screws and shaking apart and there wasn't much in his power to stop it.

So he relaxed, stood tall, put his head back and arms out and unclenched his fists.

He allowed the winds of change to wash over him.

He let go.