Key and Peele said that "racist" was the n-word for white people, and I have to agree. Nothing puts us Caspers on the defense more quickly than being called that. Hell, even slightly implying that one of us is racist will spark emotion.
Runner-up to "racist"? Nowadays, it has to be "hipster". It is a strange moniker. Here in Austin, everyone is surrounded by hipsters but no one admits to being one. I don't really get it...I'm not even sure why it is so negative.
I'm 40 years old, man...I would love to be considered a hipster... assuming I am positive what the word means. When you use the word, do you know its definition? I get the feeling "hipster" is like "pornography"... people can't really verbalize what it is, but, "I know it when I see it."
I wanted to research recent articles and columns discussing hipsters, and I came across What Was the Hipster? written in 2010. It's a little article adapted from a book of the same name, and it is pointless, verbose and an empty waste of time. Sentences like "In culture, the Hipster Primitive moment recovered the sound and symbols of pastoral innocence with an irony so fused into the artworks it was no longer visible" make me want to cyber-bitchslap the author. Really? Did a sociological study of hipsters really need to exist?
I don't care to delve into the origins of the word, the many definitions of it, or common traits of "the modern hipster". I am more interested in focusing on its over usage by, well, everyone. Typically, we use it to slander someone we think is pretending to be cooler than they really are. They're trying too hard, and it's obnoxious.
But this is what has been bugging me. Not everyone labeled a hipster is a snobby scenester. Sometimes I think they may actually be cooler than us and we're just bitter about it. No matter who you are, there is someone with better taste and/or with a better wardrobe...or they just carry themselves more aloof or confident. Even when I find myself lost in my delusion that I am cool as shit all day, and I'm walking around with my stupid sunglasses on and smoking my big dumb cigarettes, I'll notice my fly has been open for an undetermined amount of time, and I'll submit to reality. "I bet Steve McQueen never walked around with his zipper open...at least not unintentionally."
Don't we need an antithesis to "hipster"? Every Jet needs a Shark, right? I like "normies". It's a word addicts use to describe you lucky assholes who can drink and do drugs without self-destructing. I think I'll start using it to identify non-hipster types, because... it's just a fun word.
I prefer to be in a place full of hipsters as opposed to normies. They're more interesting to watch, and they're so self-involved they leave you the fuck alone and ignore you completely. It's great. You say your favorite bar was taken over and ruined by hipsters? Almost a decade ago, my favorite bar turned into "The Mooseknuckle" and became a frat boy stomping ground. It could be worse.
I like being in an apartment complex full of hipsters. It's a pleasant alternative to a suburb full of normies. But that's just me. No offense, normies.
Like I mentioned before, I don't find the word all that negative. I probably am an "aging hipster"...I apparently dress like a "Post Rocker" according to Rob Dobi. At least when I'm in my own denial of thinking I'm a bad ass I don't project to others that I'm better than them...which unfortunately was not the case in the past. I have changed the vibe I give off from "go fuck yourself" to "hey, you do you" (actually, both of these technically have the same meaning, minus hostility and spite).
I would like for you to reconsider using "hipster" in a negative connotation moving forward. Or at least, cut back on it. When you use it too much, it loses its meaning...its power. Besides, you miss the opportunity to get really creative with your labeling and name-calling. When that guy tells you that band you like sold out because they don't release their albums on vinyl anymore and that you can't really appreciate their music unless it's on an LP, don't drop the h-bomb on him. Call him a pretentious shit funnel. Or an elitist dick bouquet. Go crazy.
End the hipster hate! Or don't, whatever. You do you. (snicker)
...
Ha. I just had a mental picture of me trying to flip the hate around at a Chili's or Applebee's, saying, "Fucking normies...norming up everything with all their conventional bullshit!"
Friday, January 31, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
I Don't Re-Memoir
"You should write a book."
Damn right I should. Let me get on that.
Okay, well, what kind of book should I write? The obvious idea would be to write a memoir of my past experiences with a major focus on the past decade of decadence. Sure. There is a tiny problem with that idea: I don't remember most of it. That's a bit of an issue.
I first made this realization in treatment when my counselor had me write "my story" to present to group. I sat staring at a blank sheet of paper and was aware for the first time that my brain was just a big bowl of memory soup... pieces of flashbacks and recollections floating around incoherently in brain matter broth that just sloshes around between my ears. I'm sure I have a sleeve of saltines soaking in there as well just to make sorting it all out that much more difficult.
It makes me wonder how these people who were hardcore drunks and drug addicts managed to write out their stories into coherent tales of innocence lost, pain, self-destruction and salvation. How much of it is true and not just imagined filler to bridge the gaps in their timeline?
Memories aren't really true anyway, are they? The longer you hold onto them, the more you distort them in your head in one way or another. That's another problem for me. Many of mine have been twisted a bit to make myself look less jackass, more bad ass. I'm aware of the truth, but it's easier on the ego to leave the doctored images in my filing cabinet that the originals.
Our memories are, of course, one sided. We remember moments in time differently than other people who shared those same experiences. One night I ended up at an after hours hotel party of some roller derby ladies and friends. I had been drinking since late afternoon, so I don't really know how I ended up there, who I knew, or what all went on. I do know that I had to be helped out down stairs and into a cab. On my way down the stairs, a girl I didn't know had a horrified look on her face as she said, "I think he peed himself." I replied, confidently, "You're goddamn right I did!" And then I attempted to high-five an imaginary person as I strutted (stumbled) away in urine-soaked jeans. I imagine that girl and I remember that moment quite differently. She probably made a personal commitment to "know when to say when" and steer clear of degenerates, and I considered it a funny anecdote and not the first time I soiled myself on a Sunday.
That's a good example. I don't remember any details of that night other than her face and me slurring a comeback I thought was hilarious... and pee pants. That's it. I'm not sure just those three details make for a good "road to rock bottom" yarn.
I suppose some authors are just better at remembering the details. Despite massive consumption of booze and heroin, I still have a knack for memorizing movie quotes and being able to tell you every movie and TV show an actor has done. This trivial memory skill would be very beneficial if IMDB, Wikipedia and the whole fucking Internet did not exist. Also, I can remember bits from comedians' acts I've seen 10 or 20 years ago... which is irritating because I can't remember shit I wrote last year.
The idea of doing research on myself seems too narcissistic even for me. The idea of asking friends and family for their memories of me, both good and bad, makes me uneasy. It also seems like it would be kind of a waste of time.
"I don't know, John...I was fucked up, too, you know. You said something funny then you fell down, I think? That sounds about right."
"I don't remember when it happened but at one point you yelled at a guy for being a hippie. His hair wasn't really long, either...I think that's why he didn't get mad. He was just as confused as I was as to why you would call him that."
"I thought I told you not to call here again, you drunk-dialing asshat."
"Oh, I remember that you loved playing with G.I. Joes with your brother, and you really enjoyed singing at church when you were little. I think we still have some of your stuffed animals in the attic...Hello? Son, are you still there?"
I know this is all due to brain cells I've doused with booze and the "time travel" I did often with pain killers, but I like to think of it as my body and mind protecting me from my past... locking away all those possibly damaging memories so I can move forward with my life. Sure... why not. Either way, I won't be scribing "Here and Back Again... and Then There Once or Twice More... and Back... and Forth: The John Rabon Story" any time soon.
What will I write? Probably a lot of shit like this. I guess we'll see.
Damn right I should. Let me get on that.
Okay, well, what kind of book should I write? The obvious idea would be to write a memoir of my past experiences with a major focus on the past decade of decadence. Sure. There is a tiny problem with that idea: I don't remember most of it. That's a bit of an issue.
I first made this realization in treatment when my counselor had me write "my story" to present to group. I sat staring at a blank sheet of paper and was aware for the first time that my brain was just a big bowl of memory soup... pieces of flashbacks and recollections floating around incoherently in brain matter broth that just sloshes around between my ears. I'm sure I have a sleeve of saltines soaking in there as well just to make sorting it all out that much more difficult.
It makes me wonder how these people who were hardcore drunks and drug addicts managed to write out their stories into coherent tales of innocence lost, pain, self-destruction and salvation. How much of it is true and not just imagined filler to bridge the gaps in their timeline?
Memories aren't really true anyway, are they? The longer you hold onto them, the more you distort them in your head in one way or another. That's another problem for me. Many of mine have been twisted a bit to make myself look less jackass, more bad ass. I'm aware of the truth, but it's easier on the ego to leave the doctored images in my filing cabinet that the originals.
Our memories are, of course, one sided. We remember moments in time differently than other people who shared those same experiences. One night I ended up at an after hours hotel party of some roller derby ladies and friends. I had been drinking since late afternoon, so I don't really know how I ended up there, who I knew, or what all went on. I do know that I had to be helped out down stairs and into a cab. On my way down the stairs, a girl I didn't know had a horrified look on her face as she said, "I think he peed himself." I replied, confidently, "You're goddamn right I did!" And then I attempted to high-five an imaginary person as I strutted (stumbled) away in urine-soaked jeans. I imagine that girl and I remember that moment quite differently. She probably made a personal commitment to "know when to say when" and steer clear of degenerates, and I considered it a funny anecdote and not the first time I soiled myself on a Sunday.
That's a good example. I don't remember any details of that night other than her face and me slurring a comeback I thought was hilarious... and pee pants. That's it. I'm not sure just those three details make for a good "road to rock bottom" yarn.
I suppose some authors are just better at remembering the details. Despite massive consumption of booze and heroin, I still have a knack for memorizing movie quotes and being able to tell you every movie and TV show an actor has done. This trivial memory skill would be very beneficial if IMDB, Wikipedia and the whole fucking Internet did not exist. Also, I can remember bits from comedians' acts I've seen 10 or 20 years ago... which is irritating because I can't remember shit I wrote last year.
The idea of doing research on myself seems too narcissistic even for me. The idea of asking friends and family for their memories of me, both good and bad, makes me uneasy. It also seems like it would be kind of a waste of time.
"I don't know, John...I was fucked up, too, you know. You said something funny then you fell down, I think? That sounds about right."
"I don't remember when it happened but at one point you yelled at a guy for being a hippie. His hair wasn't really long, either...I think that's why he didn't get mad. He was just as confused as I was as to why you would call him that."
"I thought I told you not to call here again, you drunk-dialing asshat."
"Oh, I remember that you loved playing with G.I. Joes with your brother, and you really enjoyed singing at church when you were little. I think we still have some of your stuffed animals in the attic...Hello? Son, are you still there?"
I know this is all due to brain cells I've doused with booze and the "time travel" I did often with pain killers, but I like to think of it as my body and mind protecting me from my past... locking away all those possibly damaging memories so I can move forward with my life. Sure... why not. Either way, I won't be scribing "Here and Back Again... and Then There Once or Twice More... and Back... and Forth: The John Rabon Story" any time soon.
What will I write? Probably a lot of shit like this. I guess we'll see.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Defeating My Inner Demon
 |
| "Inner Demon III" by jdotjam |
I figured it out by accident.
I was preparing for war, mentally and emotionally. I learned patience being locked away for 6 months with drug addicts, bad criminals and all-around fuck-ups, and I practiced patience when setting goals for myself this past year. I worked on little things in my life, not really pushing to get to whatever my next step in life was supposed to be. I was interested in the here and now. I attempted to understand who I was without an influence in my body, and I focused on emotions moment to moment as I experienced them. This sounds tedious and mundane, but it had been a long time since I really dealt with emotions...or with anything for that matter.
So, I took my baby steps for months. I wrote when I was inspired or disturbed...or both. I handled whatever was in front of me. (Okay, that makes me sound like a groping uncle or your creepy coworker. There's a better way to phrase that.) I took care of issues as they surfaced and met my immediate needs. (No, now it sounds like I just masturbated alot. You get the idea, I hope. Moving along.)
Doing my best at work, performing when I could, obeying the sober house rules, staying sober, skateboarding, meditation...I followed a routine for months. Good things started to happen - I thrived at work, I wrote new jokes, I maintained an inner peace, I met Katie. And then recently, I completely paid off probation and moved out of the sober house.
The transition to the "real world" is all but done. In less than two months, I'll be done with probation completely, and I'll no longer have this breathalizer I carry in a backpack. It couldn't have happened at a better time. I was tired of being around the same type of people: shifty addicts either beginning recovery or pretending to be in recovery. I've had to deal with them for over a year in close proximity, and I was ready to be around normies. This is Austin, though, and I hang around kitchen staff and comedians. Normal is basically functioning drunks and drug users. Still a warm change, people who function.
While all this is going on, I am working on my mental state, ready for my addiction to fight me at the first sign of bad news. My inner demon...that devil on my shoulder...I knew it was still there, getting ready to attack. My assumption has always been the major battle will occur the day I have no one watching me anymore, which would be March 1st. I no longer believe this to be the case as I'm positive there will be no big attack from my demon.
You see, I made a breakthrough back in October that I touched on in the Duality of Me post:
"I don't really think that the angel is always good or the devil is always evil."
"My duality has to do with who I was vs who I am trying to be now."
"I can't stop being me."
"I am my imperfections, and I can embrace them."
Addiction, anxiety, negative thought...it's all in our mind. Everything is in our minds. No shit, you knew that. It's because it is all in my head that I had to change my thinking over time in order to make this new life while clean and sober thingy work.
I had to convince myself that my new life was cool. Sober in AA with a higher power looking at my past as all negative did not sound acceptable. Being very much pro-drug and pro-alcohol but considering myself a retired drunk and junkie looked better. Approaching the reality that I've milked all the bloody fun out of booze and pain killers and the lifestyle associated with both was how I convinced myself to do something new. Take that as a daily affirmation along with my decision I was done for good so that I don't kill myself and revisit them every 24 hours. Lather, rinse, repeat.
It's been working. Like really, really well. My success with rewiring some of these patterns in my selfish know-it-all ego-driven brain made me starting thinking more about the angel and devil on my shoulders...I mean obviously, my perception of "good" and "bad" separated instead of being all one big yin-fuck-yang. If this was a fallacy, wasn't referring to an addictive personality coupled with self-destructive patterns as a demon just as bullshit? I mean, obviously I don't have a demon possessing me...but the concept of separating negative aspects of yourself into a conceptual entity that you have to fight sounded stupid all of the sudden. It's all me, man. I don't need to try to kick my own ass here.
Somehow I ended up in this position and mindframe to consider urges to revisit old habits to be fleeting and pointless. We're old, brain. We've done that already and I'm bored with it.
Like I said...I got to this point by accident.
Just for good measure, though, I focused within myself and formed the angel and devil again. Instead of being combative with my demon, I simply told him, "Hey, I don't like being told what to do." Without warning, I immediately took out a broadsword and Ned Starked the angel, never taking my eyes off the devil. I added, as I mentally cleaned off the blade, "I welcome any suggestion you may have, though. I do like to have a good time, now and then."
Not really defeating the demon so much as deeming him irrelevant and scaring the shit out of him. He hasn't said much since then. RIP, shoulder angel.
Monday, December 23, 2013
No Wings For Clarence
I recently performed in a show dealing with mental health called "A Stand-up Mind - Holiday Edition" at the Salvage Vanguard Theater. The following is the transcript of my part of the show with some additions. Happy Holidays!
Something that happens to you when you are in treatment or therapy (for whatever reason...mine was alcohol/drug related) is that you have a hard time opening up in group and individual sessions in the beginning. However, you then find yourself on the other end...where you are completely upfront and uncomfortably honest all the time...to everyone.
"How are you?"
"Oh, just dealing with emotional detachment and intimacy issues as well as accepting the inevitability of my own death. I mean, FINE. I'm fine. Can I get a venti vanilla latte..."
I think about that when I prepare to go visit my family for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You don't want to be honest with your family during the holidays, if ever. They love you and all, but they don't want a buzzkill during turkey. "Don't ruin my Christmas with your reality!" Just say you're fine.
My mother has always been "the organizer" for family gatherings. Every get together needs one, and she's good at it. She always makes sure everyone is included in the festivities...no one is left out. Every Christmas with my immediate family would have a stocking for each person. This included one for my significant other, so there it was with my exwife's name on it...then it had a girlfriend's name...then a different girlfriend's name...then it was blank. I suggested just putting "Young Childless Hussy" on there and be done with it. Sure, it sounds harsh, but it would look stunning in glittered calligraphy.
For the bigger family gatherings that included all my aunts, uncles, cousins and their kids, Mom would dole out the food assignments based on finances, reliability, and possibly family status. Granny is cooking the turkey...Aunt Denise is bringing green beans, Uncle Richard is bringing pie, this cousin is doing a salad, another cousin is bringing all the plates, cups, cutlery and bread...
Me: "What should I pick up?"
Mom: "How about...you grab a bottle of soda?"
Me: "Soda. Right. Well, I hope I can pull this off."
Couldn't really blame her. I've been pretty sketchy for years.
I'm not really a huge fan of Christmas. The music is awful, I'm poor so I hate buying gifts...and I haven't been impressed by lights and ornaments since I did a bunch of psychedelics 15 years ago. "I saw my roommates torso dislodge from his body and his soul fly into the fireplace which was morphing through every fireplace I've ever seen in my life...but sure, that's an impressive tree with lights on it."
Not a big fan of Christmas movies, either. We would watch one every year as a little tradition. Never "Die Hard", though. Too bad. Usually it was "A Christmas Story", which I liked, or "It's a Wonderful Life."
I've seen the last half hour of "It's a Wonderful Life" many times, but I've only seen it all the way through maybe twice. It's 2 hours and 10 minutes long. There's no call for that, especially since they spend the first 90 minutes setting up one thing: George Bailey had big dreams of traveling the world, but instead he gave and gave and helped everyone else and let his dream die as he settled on a failing business and a family. So Clarence has to show George that his life is worth living in order to get his wings. He shows him what life was like if he had never been born...you know the movie.
When I saw the movie about 5 years ago, something occurred to me. I really liked Pottersville way more than Bedford Falls. Instead of a suburban nightmare, Pottersville was a strip of bars, pool halls, strip clubs and pawn shops...you know...fun shit. If I had been George Bailey, I would have said to Clarence, "Let me get this straight. I'm not running a bankrupt business and loan, my dumbass drunk uncle didn't lose 8 grand, and I'm no longer married with 4 kids, one of them named fucking Zuzu? Heh, you're shit out of luck, Clarence. MERRY CHRISTMAS, POTTERSVILLE!!" (starts running through the street)
Also, Donna Reed in the alternate universe was supposed to be a librarian "old maid" or "spinster"...which is 1940's speak for "cougar". But she was like 24 in that movie and hot, so...nice try.
But I digress. I like seeing my family once in a while. Getting together just for the hell of it instead of a required holiday gathering has been better for me, though. I don't know why we put pressure on ourselves during the holidays. Maybe it's because it's better when we want to as opposed to when we have to? Regarding anxiety and stress, the easiest Christmas I went through was during the worst time of my life when I was strung out on heroin. A friend gave me a couple of xanax to make it through a couple of days. So I showed up at our huge family gathering with tons of kids running around, and I sat down on the couch and fell asleep. I woke up, got food, fell asleep. Woke up, people were opening presents, fell asleep. Woke up, it was time to go. That was pretty awesome. Relatively speaking.
Last year, I was locked up in jail and then treatment from September until March. That means I missed Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Valentine's Day. And it was...a relief! WHEW! Let me tell you...you need a break from the stress of the holidays, get yourself into custody! I didn't have to buy shit or fake small talk...it was beautiful.
I did miss seeing my family in the end. Also, another benefit of being locked up is the bar is set really low for you at the next holiday gathering.
"So, John, are you working?"
"Yes, I wash dishes."
"Oh, look at you! All employed and not incarcerated!" or "Nice to see you upright and conscious!" or "Look who's breathing!"
If you're like me and you aren't a fan of the holidays...just remember to see your family if you can...for them. It's not for you. I know a lot of you enjoy the holidays after you see your kin by going to your bar and swapping "my family is insane" stories with your bar friends over pints and shots. Do that. Make that your tradition, because that's what makes the holidays great...being with those you want to love...after you spend time with the ones you have to love.
Just remember...when your family asks...you say "I'm fine."
Something that happens to you when you are in treatment or therapy (for whatever reason...mine was alcohol/drug related) is that you have a hard time opening up in group and individual sessions in the beginning. However, you then find yourself on the other end...where you are completely upfront and uncomfortably honest all the time...to everyone.
"How are you?"
"Oh, just dealing with emotional detachment and intimacy issues as well as accepting the inevitability of my own death. I mean, FINE. I'm fine. Can I get a venti vanilla latte..."
I think about that when I prepare to go visit my family for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You don't want to be honest with your family during the holidays, if ever. They love you and all, but they don't want a buzzkill during turkey. "Don't ruin my Christmas with your reality!" Just say you're fine.
My mother has always been "the organizer" for family gatherings. Every get together needs one, and she's good at it. She always makes sure everyone is included in the festivities...no one is left out. Every Christmas with my immediate family would have a stocking for each person. This included one for my significant other, so there it was with my exwife's name on it...then it had a girlfriend's name...then a different girlfriend's name...then it was blank. I suggested just putting "Young Childless Hussy" on there and be done with it. Sure, it sounds harsh, but it would look stunning in glittered calligraphy.
For the bigger family gatherings that included all my aunts, uncles, cousins and their kids, Mom would dole out the food assignments based on finances, reliability, and possibly family status. Granny is cooking the turkey...Aunt Denise is bringing green beans, Uncle Richard is bringing pie, this cousin is doing a salad, another cousin is bringing all the plates, cups, cutlery and bread...
Me: "What should I pick up?"
Mom: "How about...you grab a bottle of soda?"
Me: "Soda. Right. Well, I hope I can pull this off."
Couldn't really blame her. I've been pretty sketchy for years.
I'm not really a huge fan of Christmas. The music is awful, I'm poor so I hate buying gifts...and I haven't been impressed by lights and ornaments since I did a bunch of psychedelics 15 years ago. "I saw my roommates torso dislodge from his body and his soul fly into the fireplace which was morphing through every fireplace I've ever seen in my life...but sure, that's an impressive tree with lights on it."
Not a big fan of Christmas movies, either. We would watch one every year as a little tradition. Never "Die Hard", though. Too bad. Usually it was "A Christmas Story", which I liked, or "It's a Wonderful Life."
I've seen the last half hour of "It's a Wonderful Life" many times, but I've only seen it all the way through maybe twice. It's 2 hours and 10 minutes long. There's no call for that, especially since they spend the first 90 minutes setting up one thing: George Bailey had big dreams of traveling the world, but instead he gave and gave and helped everyone else and let his dream die as he settled on a failing business and a family. So Clarence has to show George that his life is worth living in order to get his wings. He shows him what life was like if he had never been born...you know the movie.
When I saw the movie about 5 years ago, something occurred to me. I really liked Pottersville way more than Bedford Falls. Instead of a suburban nightmare, Pottersville was a strip of bars, pool halls, strip clubs and pawn shops...you know...fun shit. If I had been George Bailey, I would have said to Clarence, "Let me get this straight. I'm not running a bankrupt business and loan, my dumbass drunk uncle didn't lose 8 grand, and I'm no longer married with 4 kids, one of them named fucking Zuzu? Heh, you're shit out of luck, Clarence. MERRY CHRISTMAS, POTTERSVILLE!!" (starts running through the street)
 |
| "Bars, strip clubs...this is awesome...I mean, awful. Right. This is awful." |
Also, Donna Reed in the alternate universe was supposed to be a librarian "old maid" or "spinster"...which is 1940's speak for "cougar". But she was like 24 in that movie and hot, so...nice try.
But I digress. I like seeing my family once in a while. Getting together just for the hell of it instead of a required holiday gathering has been better for me, though. I don't know why we put pressure on ourselves during the holidays. Maybe it's because it's better when we want to as opposed to when we have to? Regarding anxiety and stress, the easiest Christmas I went through was during the worst time of my life when I was strung out on heroin. A friend gave me a couple of xanax to make it through a couple of days. So I showed up at our huge family gathering with tons of kids running around, and I sat down on the couch and fell asleep. I woke up, got food, fell asleep. Woke up, people were opening presents, fell asleep. Woke up, it was time to go. That was pretty awesome. Relatively speaking.
Last year, I was locked up in jail and then treatment from September until March. That means I missed Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Valentine's Day. And it was...a relief! WHEW! Let me tell you...you need a break from the stress of the holidays, get yourself into custody! I didn't have to buy shit or fake small talk...it was beautiful.
I did miss seeing my family in the end. Also, another benefit of being locked up is the bar is set really low for you at the next holiday gathering.
"So, John, are you working?"
"Yes, I wash dishes."
"Oh, look at you! All employed and not incarcerated!" or "Nice to see you upright and conscious!" or "Look who's breathing!"
If you're like me and you aren't a fan of the holidays...just remember to see your family if you can...for them. It's not for you. I know a lot of you enjoy the holidays after you see your kin by going to your bar and swapping "my family is insane" stories with your bar friends over pints and shots. Do that. Make that your tradition, because that's what makes the holidays great...being with those you want to love...after you spend time with the ones you have to love.
Just remember...when your family asks...you say "I'm fine."
Friday, December 6, 2013
The Poor Shouldn't Smoke?
"I was in line at the store, and this woman in front of me paid for groceries with a Lone Star card, and then bought a pack of cigarettes with cash! OMG, can you believe it? And she had an iPhone and a fancy purse, I mean, what is wrong with this country..."
I can totally relate to what you are saying. And by "relate" I mean that I have also paid for food with my Lone Star "food stamps" card and then bought cigarettes with my debit card. I did that today, actually. OMG, right?
I am your nightmare. I am a drug addict with an iPod, checking his Facebook on his phone, carrying a $100 backpack wearing name brand skate shoes buying smokes and letting your tax dollars pay for his meal. Boo! If that's all you know about me, that sentence probably makes you angry and shake your fist at "liberals."
Here's what that sentence doesn't tell you. I've qualified for food stamps for a while. I didn't want to take advantage of it...principles, pride, ego, whatever...I was going to get by on my own. But then I had to start making significant payments to probation, and I was not going to be able to afford anything. I was working during the slow period at the restaurant, living in a sober house and wearing nicotine patches that were given to me. I was eating leftovers from staff meals at work. In a stressed-out tearful phone call to my mother, she encouraged me to keep doing the right thing and to apply for food stamps, because it would be temporary until I paid off probation and the monthly breathalizer fee. So I did.
I skateboard and bus to a restaurant where I bust my ass 8 hours a day as a dishwasher. I don't drink or do drugs anymore...sober 15 months. I bought these shoes in March with part of my income tax return. The iPod is second-hand from my family. My phone is a cheap piece of shit. I bought my backpack at Goodwill for $12 after looking for one for a month.
I get my music, books and movies from the public library. I don't buy or own much. I buy cigarettes with money I have leftover after paying all my bills and rent, and I buy them instead of patches because it only costs me about $20 more to actually keep smoking. That's my luxury purchase...a pack of smokes to enjoy and relieve a bit of stress every day so that I don't turn around in line at the store to someone eyeing me and tell them, "Eat a smelly cock, sea cow." That's me being selfish and flawed, and I'm comfortable with it.
You'll never know why the lady in front of you bought smokes, because you're not her, and you have no idea what her life has been like...and given your lack of empathy, you won't bother to find out. It must suck being so angry at the fact that there are 7 billion people on the planet that aren't you. Grr.
We all can make assumptions and snap judgments with little to no information. However, decent people tend to let it pass or recognize what they're doing...as opposed to jumping online and voicing every awful thought in their heads. Maybe you don't need to spill out all that bullshit from your big dumb brain into social networking.
But hey, if you want to play the snap judgment game, let's play. You like to ask questions like "how can someone buy beer instead of saving money", or "how can that poor person afford a tablet." Let me ask some questions, then.
How can you sit there and watch that football game on Sunday instead of playing with your kids who haven't seen you all week?
How can you buy the biggest flat screen TV in the store instead of putting that money away for your kid's college fund and continue watching your perfectly acceptable existing TV?
How can you consider yourself faithful to your wife when you go to a strip club for lunch on a weekly basis?
How do you consider yourself a religious person when you ignore parts of the Bible that conflict with your poor-hating fuck-everybody-but-my-family-and-friends sensibilities?
How can you eat that when you know you want to lose weight and get healthy?
Why do you choose to stay in that failing marriage while cheating on your spouse instead of putting forth an effort to make it work?
Why do you expect rich people to give to charity when you won't donate just a little bit of your time to helping someone else in need?
Why do you think you're the only one who has suffered and experienced pain?
Why can't we all just be perfect and adhere to our personal morals every second of the day? Why do we have to be so...human?
Note: This blog is directed towards acquaintances of mine who unfortunately won't read this, and to several people who have posted comments online that use anonymity to be outspoken, opinionated and overall shitty.
I can totally relate to what you are saying. And by "relate" I mean that I have also paid for food with my Lone Star "food stamps" card and then bought cigarettes with my debit card. I did that today, actually. OMG, right?
I am your nightmare. I am a drug addict with an iPod, checking his Facebook on his phone, carrying a $100 backpack wearing name brand skate shoes buying smokes and letting your tax dollars pay for his meal. Boo! If that's all you know about me, that sentence probably makes you angry and shake your fist at "liberals."
Here's what that sentence doesn't tell you. I've qualified for food stamps for a while. I didn't want to take advantage of it...principles, pride, ego, whatever...I was going to get by on my own. But then I had to start making significant payments to probation, and I was not going to be able to afford anything. I was working during the slow period at the restaurant, living in a sober house and wearing nicotine patches that were given to me. I was eating leftovers from staff meals at work. In a stressed-out tearful phone call to my mother, she encouraged me to keep doing the right thing and to apply for food stamps, because it would be temporary until I paid off probation and the monthly breathalizer fee. So I did.
I skateboard and bus to a restaurant where I bust my ass 8 hours a day as a dishwasher. I don't drink or do drugs anymore...sober 15 months. I bought these shoes in March with part of my income tax return. The iPod is second-hand from my family. My phone is a cheap piece of shit. I bought my backpack at Goodwill for $12 after looking for one for a month.
I get my music, books and movies from the public library. I don't buy or own much. I buy cigarettes with money I have leftover after paying all my bills and rent, and I buy them instead of patches because it only costs me about $20 more to actually keep smoking. That's my luxury purchase...a pack of smokes to enjoy and relieve a bit of stress every day so that I don't turn around in line at the store to someone eyeing me and tell them, "Eat a smelly cock, sea cow." That's me being selfish and flawed, and I'm comfortable with it.
You'll never know why the lady in front of you bought smokes, because you're not her, and you have no idea what her life has been like...and given your lack of empathy, you won't bother to find out. It must suck being so angry at the fact that there are 7 billion people on the planet that aren't you. Grr.
We all can make assumptions and snap judgments with little to no information. However, decent people tend to let it pass or recognize what they're doing...as opposed to jumping online and voicing every awful thought in their heads. Maybe you don't need to spill out all that bullshit from your big dumb brain into social networking.
But hey, if you want to play the snap judgment game, let's play. You like to ask questions like "how can someone buy beer instead of saving money", or "how can that poor person afford a tablet." Let me ask some questions, then.
How can you sit there and watch that football game on Sunday instead of playing with your kids who haven't seen you all week?
How can you buy the biggest flat screen TV in the store instead of putting that money away for your kid's college fund and continue watching your perfectly acceptable existing TV?
How can you consider yourself faithful to your wife when you go to a strip club for lunch on a weekly basis?
How do you consider yourself a religious person when you ignore parts of the Bible that conflict with your poor-hating fuck-everybody-but-my-family-and-friends sensibilities?
How can you eat that when you know you want to lose weight and get healthy?
Why do you choose to stay in that failing marriage while cheating on your spouse instead of putting forth an effort to make it work?
Why do you expect rich people to give to charity when you won't donate just a little bit of your time to helping someone else in need?
Why do you think you're the only one who has suffered and experienced pain?
Why can't we all just be perfect and adhere to our personal morals every second of the day? Why do we have to be so...human?
Note: This blog is directed towards acquaintances of mine who unfortunately won't read this, and to several people who have posted comments online that use anonymity to be outspoken, opinionated and overall shitty.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
The 24 Hour Obsession
I came home from work Sunday afternoon intending to write a bit. I wasn't sure what I wanted to write about other than possibly blast unfunny, tactless and obvious jokes about Paul Walker and imply that if you feel the need to make a Fast and Furious reference, you should donate to his charity to even out the fact that you and your joke suck.
But no. I did not write anything Sunday night because I had a song stuck in my head. Actually, it was a vague recollection of bits of the song, and it camped out in my brain. I had heard it on 101X a couple of times last October (in jail where I could do no research on it). I had to listen to the song again to make the musical memory loop stop.
The problem? I had no idea who sang it or even the name of it. Even worse, I didn't know any of the fucking words of the song. Try googling for that (googling "that groovy song that goes do do do doo"). I could hear the bass line and guitar riffs, but the memory of the singer's voice was all Charlie Brown's teacher in my head. I knew the band was new, but I had no clue if I would even recognize their name if I came across it.
I tried doing something else. I took a nap...I tried distracting my brain with ice cream, my new vice...I attempted to finish season 3 of "Fringe", but I couldn't concentrate. I had to find that damn tune. I went to the 101X website where they post their daily playlists, but they only had the past week listed. I went through every song they played anyway...if I didn't recognize the song title or band, I looked it up on YouTube.
Side note...Hey, 101X...It's been almost 20 years. You don't have to keep playing "Santeria" by Sublime every day. And that stupid Verve song. It also plays on every one of my Pandora stations. It's like the Music Genome Project works through complex algorithms to determine "Bittersweet Symphony" fits in every possible genre. Nice job.
Anyhoo. My YouTube listening party took some time. I was happy to discover new music (or new to me), like "Elephant" by Tame Impala and Spoon's last two releases. I did sidetrack myself with one or sixteen cat videos, but I had to get back to the only goal that mattered. I did a few searches on Alternative singles released last year, but I kept getting blogs and comments recommending the bands Imagine Dragons and the xx. I like a couple of Imagine Dragons songs, and I would like the xx, but their singing style of alternating the male and female singer sounds like they were broke and had to share one microphone. "I'll sing a line...now you sing a line...then I'll sing a line..."
The hook of the song I was trying to find was on the tip of my tongue...on the tip of my brain...my brain's tongue. It was something like, "wouldn't/couldn't it be right/nice." Or, "Uh it be I..." as I heard it over and over. When I searched the varying word combinations, Google insisted I was trying to find the lyrics for the Beach Boys "Wouldn't It Be Nice." I calmly explained to Google that I knew who the fuck the Beach Boys were, and I could give two shits about about Brian Wilson singing to a girl about how it would be nice if they were older so they "wouldn't have to wait so long"...which is creepy and weird because he was 24 years old when he sang that.
This went on for hours. Not exaggerating. I looked online all night. I went to sleep exhausted and despondent.
I woke up at noon (ish) with the song bits still staging their Occupy John's Thoughts protest. However, as I lay there in bed, one word from the lyrics that I couldn't remember became suddenly clear: candelabra. The guy says "candelabra" for some reason. Jesus, why would anyone that's not Bauhaus reference that in a song? That's dumb as balls. Okay, focus, John. This is a breakthrough. Let's get coffee.
So I did a search on song lyrics that contain "candelabra." Rattled by the Rush - Pavement, no...Te Amo - Rihanna, ha...Transylvanian Concubine - Rasputina, no but I am so looking that up later. And then...there it was. The Divine Fits.
Not "Wouldn't it be nice", but "Would that not be nice." You bastards.
I bought the song. I figure a dollar was worth dispelling my little insanity via my iPod. It's a decent tune...it's not amazing or worth going batshit crazy for 24 hours, but I like it.
I've listened to it about 10 times now. I still don't remember any of the words. Except "candelabra."
But no. I did not write anything Sunday night because I had a song stuck in my head. Actually, it was a vague recollection of bits of the song, and it camped out in my brain. I had heard it on 101X a couple of times last October (in jail where I could do no research on it). I had to listen to the song again to make the musical memory loop stop.
The problem? I had no idea who sang it or even the name of it. Even worse, I didn't know any of the fucking words of the song. Try googling for that (googling "that groovy song that goes do do do doo"). I could hear the bass line and guitar riffs, but the memory of the singer's voice was all Charlie Brown's teacher in my head. I knew the band was new, but I had no clue if I would even recognize their name if I came across it.
I tried doing something else. I took a nap...I tried distracting my brain with ice cream, my new vice...I attempted to finish season 3 of "Fringe", but I couldn't concentrate. I had to find that damn tune. I went to the 101X website where they post their daily playlists, but they only had the past week listed. I went through every song they played anyway...if I didn't recognize the song title or band, I looked it up on YouTube.
Side note...Hey, 101X...It's been almost 20 years. You don't have to keep playing "Santeria" by Sublime every day. And that stupid Verve song. It also plays on every one of my Pandora stations. It's like the Music Genome Project works through complex algorithms to determine "Bittersweet Symphony" fits in every possible genre. Nice job.
Anyhoo. My YouTube listening party took some time. I was happy to discover new music (or new to me), like "Elephant" by Tame Impala and Spoon's last two releases. I did sidetrack myself with one or sixteen cat videos, but I had to get back to the only goal that mattered. I did a few searches on Alternative singles released last year, but I kept getting blogs and comments recommending the bands Imagine Dragons and the xx. I like a couple of Imagine Dragons songs, and I would like the xx, but their singing style of alternating the male and female singer sounds like they were broke and had to share one microphone. "I'll sing a line...now you sing a line...then I'll sing a line..."
The hook of the song I was trying to find was on the tip of my tongue...on the tip of my brain...my brain's tongue. It was something like, "wouldn't/couldn't it be right/nice." Or, "Uh it be I..." as I heard it over and over. When I searched the varying word combinations, Google insisted I was trying to find the lyrics for the Beach Boys "Wouldn't It Be Nice." I calmly explained to Google that I knew who the fuck the Beach Boys were, and I could give two shits about about Brian Wilson singing to a girl about how it would be nice if they were older so they "wouldn't have to wait so long"...which is creepy and weird because he was 24 years old when he sang that.
This went on for hours. Not exaggerating. I looked online all night. I went to sleep exhausted and despondent.
I woke up at noon (ish) with the song bits still staging their Occupy John's Thoughts protest. However, as I lay there in bed, one word from the lyrics that I couldn't remember became suddenly clear: candelabra. The guy says "candelabra" for some reason. Jesus, why would anyone that's not Bauhaus reference that in a song? That's dumb as balls. Okay, focus, John. This is a breakthrough. Let's get coffee.
So I did a search on song lyrics that contain "candelabra." Rattled by the Rush - Pavement, no...Te Amo - Rihanna, ha...Transylvanian Concubine - Rasputina, no but I am so looking that up later. And then...there it was. The Divine Fits.
Not "Wouldn't it be nice", but "Would that not be nice." You bastards.
I bought the song. I figure a dollar was worth dispelling my little insanity via my iPod. It's a decent tune...it's not amazing or worth going batshit crazy for 24 hours, but I like it.
I've listened to it about 10 times now. I still don't remember any of the words. Except "candelabra."
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Have You Considered Marijuana?
I posted a brief conversation I had about weed about two years ago that is similar to this one I had recently:
Him: So, John...have you thought about smoking weed?
Me: Yeah, I shouldn't.
Him: I mean after you're off probation. I get why you don't now...
Me: Two things happen when I smoke weed. First, it makes me acutely aware of all of my past failures in life all at once, and I become full of anxiety and uncomfortable as hell.
Him: Yikes.
Me: And the second thing? It makes me want to do heroin again.
Him: ...probably shouldn't smoke pot, then.
Me: You think so? That's too bad.
At your next national pothead convention, you guys should really reconsider who you send out as spokespeople and recruiters. Really...I'm 40 years old and I have lived in Austin for about 15 years. Asking me if I've considered weed is right up there with asking me, "Have you heard about Jesus Christ?" Yeah, thanks, I've heard the name. I have been around the pot once or twice.
Let me make it clear that I think it is ridiculous that marijuana is illegal. However, I am very much a supporter of legalizing it because I just want people to shut up about how pot should be legal and how great it is.
"It grows naturally on this planet!" Yes. Yes it does. You then naturally harvest the bud, naturally break it up and roll it with paper, naturally set it on fire and naturally inhale the smoke. Then you naturally sit back and watch Adult Swim before naturally running to Jack in the Box.
You may notice heroin addicts don't argue about how poppies grow naturally on this planet, too. Granted, that's because they're usually too busy making a mental note of all your valuables in case they get into a bind later, but still. Also, there is no Heroin Times magazine with centerfolds of black tar. This is more than likely due to the publishers nodding off and missing deadline after deadline...but that's beside the point. I guess I just find some potheads to be a bit obsessive and annoying.
Sorry. I am getting off subject. I'm aware there are many of you who smoke weed and don't mention 420 via Twitter and Facebook every day.
What I would like to focus on in this blog entry is the concept of smoking weed in recovery...as in, an alcoholic or heroin/meth/cocaine addict using "marijuana maintenance." I have been asked several times, "What do you think about smoking weed as part of recovery?" My short answer is, "I think it's a bad idea."
BUT...I can't go with the short answer, because it goes against my belief that everybody has to follow their own path and not to be completely dissuaded by "it can't be done" in your life. Maybe you're the one that "can do it." So let's go with the long answer.
I know several people who had severe addiction issues that they have overcome and now just smoke pot. I also have met many individuals in treatment centers and sober houses that tried to just smoke weed, and they relapsed big time. Pot did not help me, that's for sure.
Many of us addicts have legal issues...and we're on probation and/or being monitored and drug tested. Smoking while on probation is stupid. It's very very stupid, and you are risking getting your ass handed to you by the county and getting locked up. You shouldn't even consider it until you are off paper.
The main reason I would tell someone not to try weed if they asked me is this...if you are hesitating in doing it, you may have already made it a big deal in your head. You may mindfuck yourself into a position where you handle being high on weed, and then you think, "fuck it, I can drink." Then you're racing off to hitting a new bottom. Marijuana may be "natural", but it's still altering your perception, reason and decision-making...and if you're prone to saying "fuck it" as I have been, weakening your resolve naturally or unnaturally is probably a bad idea.
In my opinion, the people I know on the marijuana maintenance trip successfully do so because it's not a big deal to them at all. They worked on themselves and fought to get their lives back, and the question "should I smoke pot" probably never came up...and if it did, it was probably met with, "why wouldn't I?" If it's not a big deal in their heads, it doesn't rule their thinking and their lives...and they make it work. I could be completely wrong about that, but that's what I think.
Here's the deal. For me at least, only a small part of recovery is being clean and sober. Recovery for me was changing my life...finding a reason to live and to care and working to change everything that my self-destruction and self centeredness turned to shit. I can't change if I'm wasted. I stay sober so I can keep working on me.
AA people have a term called "dry drunk." Essentially, it's someone who uses personal willpower to stop drinking but doesn't do anything else to better themselves. Their desire and thoughts are still at the bar or the liquor store, so they just go through their lives miserable people. Unfortunately, hardcore AA people throw this term around too much, sometimes labeling people who quit drinking outside of a 12-step program a dry drunk when they are not. That doesn't mean it's bullshit. I've seen it...miserable bastards who honestly would be better off if they just started drinking or using again because they were making everybody around them miserable too.
I think a lot of addicts can't just stop doing their drug of choice. They need to change, repair damage, and find life again. Some don't, and instead they replace their addiction with something else, never addressing the real problem...why were they escaping reality in the first place? Many replace that addiction with one to AA or NA. Some become obsessed with a hobby or with fitness. I think switching to weed from their drug of choice will do the same thing...it's a nice temporary fix...until something big comes along that their new "thing" doesn't help them deal with, then it's "fuck it" and back to what has previously helped escape reality in the past. (My "new thing" in the past was codependency.)
Someone close to me said that they didn't have a problem with weed at all. It makes them enjoy cartoons and sleep. However, they are working on themselves and find that getting high deters them from doing what they need to do on a daily basis to remain alcohol free, healthy and happy. That's their path.
If you have addiction issues, maybe your path involves marijuana, maybe it doesn't. I think you truthfully know whether you can smoke or not. If you have to question whether it's a good idea or not, it probably isn't.
I can't. Period. So stop bringing it up to me, ya hippies.
Him: So, John...have you thought about smoking weed?
Me: Yeah, I shouldn't.
Him: I mean after you're off probation. I get why you don't now...
Me: Two things happen when I smoke weed. First, it makes me acutely aware of all of my past failures in life all at once, and I become full of anxiety and uncomfortable as hell.
Him: Yikes.
Me: And the second thing? It makes me want to do heroin again.
Him: ...probably shouldn't smoke pot, then.
Me: You think so? That's too bad.
At your next national pothead convention, you guys should really reconsider who you send out as spokespeople and recruiters. Really...I'm 40 years old and I have lived in Austin for about 15 years. Asking me if I've considered weed is right up there with asking me, "Have you heard about Jesus Christ?" Yeah, thanks, I've heard the name. I have been around the pot once or twice.
Let me make it clear that I think it is ridiculous that marijuana is illegal. However, I am very much a supporter of legalizing it because I just want people to shut up about how pot should be legal and how great it is.
"It grows naturally on this planet!" Yes. Yes it does. You then naturally harvest the bud, naturally break it up and roll it with paper, naturally set it on fire and naturally inhale the smoke. Then you naturally sit back and watch Adult Swim before naturally running to Jack in the Box.
You may notice heroin addicts don't argue about how poppies grow naturally on this planet, too. Granted, that's because they're usually too busy making a mental note of all your valuables in case they get into a bind later, but still. Also, there is no Heroin Times magazine with centerfolds of black tar. This is more than likely due to the publishers nodding off and missing deadline after deadline...but that's beside the point. I guess I just find some potheads to be a bit obsessive and annoying.
Sorry. I am getting off subject. I'm aware there are many of you who smoke weed and don't mention 420 via Twitter and Facebook every day.
What I would like to focus on in this blog entry is the concept of smoking weed in recovery...as in, an alcoholic or heroin/meth/cocaine addict using "marijuana maintenance." I have been asked several times, "What do you think about smoking weed as part of recovery?" My short answer is, "I think it's a bad idea."
BUT...I can't go with the short answer, because it goes against my belief that everybody has to follow their own path and not to be completely dissuaded by "it can't be done" in your life. Maybe you're the one that "can do it." So let's go with the long answer.
I know several people who had severe addiction issues that they have overcome and now just smoke pot. I also have met many individuals in treatment centers and sober houses that tried to just smoke weed, and they relapsed big time. Pot did not help me, that's for sure.
Many of us addicts have legal issues...and we're on probation and/or being monitored and drug tested. Smoking while on probation is stupid. It's very very stupid, and you are risking getting your ass handed to you by the county and getting locked up. You shouldn't even consider it until you are off paper.
The main reason I would tell someone not to try weed if they asked me is this...if you are hesitating in doing it, you may have already made it a big deal in your head. You may mindfuck yourself into a position where you handle being high on weed, and then you think, "fuck it, I can drink." Then you're racing off to hitting a new bottom. Marijuana may be "natural", but it's still altering your perception, reason and decision-making...and if you're prone to saying "fuck it" as I have been, weakening your resolve naturally or unnaturally is probably a bad idea.
In my opinion, the people I know on the marijuana maintenance trip successfully do so because it's not a big deal to them at all. They worked on themselves and fought to get their lives back, and the question "should I smoke pot" probably never came up...and if it did, it was probably met with, "why wouldn't I?" If it's not a big deal in their heads, it doesn't rule their thinking and their lives...and they make it work. I could be completely wrong about that, but that's what I think.
Here's the deal. For me at least, only a small part of recovery is being clean and sober. Recovery for me was changing my life...finding a reason to live and to care and working to change everything that my self-destruction and self centeredness turned to shit. I can't change if I'm wasted. I stay sober so I can keep working on me.
AA people have a term called "dry drunk." Essentially, it's someone who uses personal willpower to stop drinking but doesn't do anything else to better themselves. Their desire and thoughts are still at the bar or the liquor store, so they just go through their lives miserable people. Unfortunately, hardcore AA people throw this term around too much, sometimes labeling people who quit drinking outside of a 12-step program a dry drunk when they are not. That doesn't mean it's bullshit. I've seen it...miserable bastards who honestly would be better off if they just started drinking or using again because they were making everybody around them miserable too.
I think a lot of addicts can't just stop doing their drug of choice. They need to change, repair damage, and find life again. Some don't, and instead they replace their addiction with something else, never addressing the real problem...why were they escaping reality in the first place? Many replace that addiction with one to AA or NA. Some become obsessed with a hobby or with fitness. I think switching to weed from their drug of choice will do the same thing...it's a nice temporary fix...until something big comes along that their new "thing" doesn't help them deal with, then it's "fuck it" and back to what has previously helped escape reality in the past. (My "new thing" in the past was codependency.)
Someone close to me said that they didn't have a problem with weed at all. It makes them enjoy cartoons and sleep. However, they are working on themselves and find that getting high deters them from doing what they need to do on a daily basis to remain alcohol free, healthy and happy. That's their path.
If you have addiction issues, maybe your path involves marijuana, maybe it doesn't. I think you truthfully know whether you can smoke or not. If you have to question whether it's a good idea or not, it probably isn't.
I can't. Period. So stop bringing it up to me, ya hippies.
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