Oh COME ON!

All the hair that's been pulled out thanks to the tape on my arms the last two weeks is starting to grow back and itching like a motherfucker. I don't know that pain is necessarily worse than an itch you can't scratch.

You try going to a doctor for a prescription to deal with itchy short arm hairs. If you don't get laughed out of the office or thrown out by security, you'll go home with nothing but a co-pay bill and a script of STFU.

Okay, Now What Do I Do?

There's nothing like being bored AND broke.

I'm restless...I don't want to watch TV, read a book or play a fucking game. I have a cigarette, then count how few I have left and immediately regret smoking that one.

I sleep, stare at the clock and drink coffee. This week, I will add "look for a job" to that list. I feel lost sometimes.

I've been listening to the radio for multiple hours, specifically 107.7 The End out of Seattle. Remember growing up and listening to the radio at night while you thought about that guy/girl you like in high school? I've come full circle.

I'm hoping my nerves settle. I hope I can just calm down and enjoy the moment. I'm not in jail, rehab or dead. Be thankful, right?

But what do I do now?

Sometimes It's All About Me

It's good to have friends. A couple of my comedian buddies set up a way to donate to help my unemployed and recovering ass:

http://www.comedygold.org

I wouldn't promote this if I didn't really need help.

I do need help. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Tonight...

...for the simple reason that I need to distract myself from being out of pain meds AND cigarettes, is "Denzel Washington is a Badass" night. I'm watching "Training Day", "Book of Eli" and "Man On Fire" tonight.

"Man on Fire" is one of my favorites. You want to set Denzel off, you mess with a little blond white girl, apparently.

I almost went with "Ethan Hawke Is A Whiny Bitch" night, but there were too many of his movies to choose from.

I'm Not Dead Yet...I'm Getting Better...

I must be getting better. Within the past 24 hours I've bitched online about the Beatles on iTunes and Kid Rock's new album. When trivial shit irritates me, it means I'm feeling close to normal...at least at that moment.

A friend picked me up for dinner then coffee and smokes. It was nice getting out and acting like a normal fucking human being. He and I reflected over all the shit he and I had been through in the past 6 or 7 years...which is a lot. We came to the conclusion that we were still alive, and neither he nor I have any kids (that we know of). So we've got that going for us.

The doctor says my arm is healing well, and that the wound "looks great". Gah. My arm looks like part of the game "Operation"...there's a piece of my arm missing, and they filled the hole with tomato sauce. Yeah, that's gross. You should see it. No, you shouldn't...which is why I have no picture to show you...it's fucked.

My strength is coming back. Pretty soon, I'll be healthy and ready to be rejected at job interviews. Hope hope.

Vices Are Not Hobbies

What I'm going to point out will probably just generate "duuuhhh" from everyone who reads it. I don't care, though. I'm going to do it just to encourage me to keep on the same path.

When you have an addictive personality and really love your vices, you will find yourself centered around said vices. That's all you think about, and that's all you live for. It sucks, actually, because I got into my vices because, well, they're fun. I envy people who can enjoy them and then go back to their lives with little-to-no consequences. Those people who can smoke, drink and do drugs on the weekend and then go back to being a non-smoking day job-having jag-off during the week? Yeah, you suck. Congrats on your ability to master moderation. Douchebags. I envy you.

You should take inventory of your life sometime. It'll depress the shit out of you if you're anything like me.
5 years ago, my interests were: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, country dancing (at bars with live music).
3 years ago: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, drugs.
1 year ago: drugs.
Today: reading, writing, skateboarding, meditation, Seattle radio/music (past and present), Sodoku/Crossword puzzles...and motherfucking stand-up comedy.

Here's the thing, though. Unlike a lot of people I've met in recovery and 12-step programs, I don't think alcohol and drugs are evil. I'm not going to tell you to just say no and shit like that. Live your life and have a good time. Just be careful and don't make your entire life be about the vice or vices.

Oh, and speaking of...and I'm quitting smoking again.

Smoke-free, take 37. Action!

I Am Not House

A friend of mine said, "Dude, you're House now." This would be due to the injury and pain medication dominating my waking hours. He was being "hilarious" and not that serious, I imagine.

Funny thing is, my icon on instant messenger programs like AOL IM/iChat was a picture of Hugh Laurie as "House", and it is one of my favorite shows. If you have a show where the lead character is a drug-addicted asshole, chances are I'll be a fan (see: Californication).

You ask me if I want to be House, I'd have to ask, "Which season?" I don't want to be the Dr. House stuck in the looney bin or being harassed by a cop with an agenda. For a while, I wanted to be that character, and in a lot of ways I was. I kicked ass at my day job at a video game company, I had the attitude, and I was a full-blown addict. Of course, "House, MD" is just a fucking TV show, but even in fiction the character struggled with his demons and addiction. Well, guess what...so have I. I don't work at that job anymore for a reason. I self-destruct slowly...but when I blow up, I explode big. It took my apartment and my heart with it.

There's a major "cool" factor that goes along with being a creative fuck-up. Fans of Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and/or William S. Burroughs will tell you they wished they lived that kind of life, even if just for a little while. Yeah...but there's a whole lot of fucked up shit you have to go through to live that kind of life, whether it be a heroin addict, major alcoholic or gun-toting booze-filled pill-popping journalist. Bukowski drank himself to death, Hunter shot himself when the pain was too great and Burroughs? Well...his bio ain't pretty.

I've been both the world class drunk and the junkie. I just forgot to be successful while doing both. Typical me...rock star lifestyle without the rock star money. That comes out to an assful of debt, major addiction issues, failing health and lots of time to yourself wondering, "What did I do?"

I waited 'til the last minute to clean up my act...I figured losing everything was enough, but I hadn't lost my health. That is what I am paying penance for now. I told a friend of mine the other day that I was like Job, only without being a good guy and close to God.

"So, you're actually more like Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Okay, yeah...but without the butt sex."

So, all of my experiences and my actions make up what I am today...me and my persona, John Fucking Rabon. JFnR can turn the pain into an interesting blog or a great onstage bit...one that makes some audience members uncomfortable but most laugh and say, "I'm glad that didn't happen to me! Yuk Yuk!"

As for the real me, I'm pretty sure my self-destructing days are behind me. The problem is how to put Humpty Dumpty back together now. I've been to the edge, and I'll never be the same because of it. I made it back alive, but I brought back with me some major scars and a felony conviction (oops). How do I get back on track and back into society? The jury is out on that. I guess stay tuned? It's going to take some work, some time and a shitload of help from people who care about me. And thank Christ, there are actually people who care.

So, no, I am not House. And I don't want to be him anymore.