Evil. EEEEEvil.

More of the eternal quest for what I want. More rationalization and justification so that I can get what I want. I can't think of any better way to spend my time than to think about me and what I want.

I do not trust myself most of the time. I do not trust my own thinking. My brain is out to get me. It thinks it has my best interests at heart but a lot of the time it screws everything up. It isn't to be trusted with the children. There are a few pieces missing or some counterfeit parts made at a jungle chop shop in the Lesser Maldives, using conscripted labor, installed in mission critical places.

It's not a healthy machine.

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

Me, actually. I do if the lurking in my own heart is any indication.

On the Porch

Once or twice a week I attend an early morning meeting at an old clubhouse near the urban core of my largish city. There are a few guys who have been sober for a while, and there are almost always some people who come from one of the many half way houses or shelters downtown. I get to see some friends and I get to do some service work.

Being on the outgoing side I've always tried to make people who are new -- new to the area, that meeting, sobriety, whatever -- feel welcome. I enjoy it. I'm good at it. I'll talk to anybody, anywhere, any time, just not for too long -- I get bored easily. When I was new I traveled incessantly for work and was often surprised when members of a group paired off after the meeting and left me standing there alone, staring at the wall. I could have been ready to drink.

One day this week I was talking to a new guy who looked to be down on his luck. He was telling me about his efforts to get into a couple of local shelters and, frankly, to keep himself fed.

"Where are you staying now?" I asked.

"On the porch," he said, gesturing to the front of the building. "I'm sleeping on the porch."

This is not a comfortable porch with furniture or a roof. It's made of concrete and it's open to the elements. It's getting warm here but it's not warm at 4AM.

My friend was matter-of-fact. He wasn't complaining or asking me for money or anything.

He was sleeping on the porch, one day sober.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Adventure: The encountering of danger; an exciting and dangerous undertaking; an unusual, stirring experience, often of romantic nature.

I'm ready for an adventure. The problem with me is that I'm always ready for an adventure. I'm never ready to clean the toilets or cut the grass. But I do feel the need to have my knees buckled by something unbelievable right now. I'm a good alcoholic this way, always looking for the next buzz.

I was fortunate enough when I was pretty newly sober to be able to visit Venice. It was a little complicated getting there -- trains, planes, water taxis, and the like -- and I had not yet mastered the ability to handle any commotion at all. Not that I'm good with fear today but at least it's not a rout anymore. All of the day's travel had triggered a tsunami of fear and angst. I remember like it was yesterday the emotions that swept over me when I stepped out of the train station and the city unfolded in front of me. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. It was like walking into a painting. I had to sit down on the steps of the station and regain my composure. It was the first time I truly understood the concept of culture shock in all of its terrible fury and beauty.

I've spent some time talking to people about acedia -- boredom -- lately. It's a tricky concept. I think in my case a lot can be summed up by the fact that I'm often ungrateful. If I'm bored with what I have then I'm assuming that I want something else. Anything else.

Maybe what you have.

Cosmic Karma

Karma: The totality of a person's actions in one of the successive states of his existence, thought of as determining his fate in the next.

I don't think we can really know the impact that we have on people, and on the world. That's a good reason to be as nice as we can to everybody, if we need a reason. Stuff has a way of looping around in ways we can't see or can't predict. This is why I try to be nice -- not because I really enjoy being nice or am particularly good at it. It's that the world seems to be a better place when I project some good vibes into the mix.

It's just that easy.

Big Piece of Machinery

One Day At A Time.

Who comes up with this stuff? This slogan does not generally work for me unless we're talking about a day on Pluto, which lasts about 6 earth days. I think I could stay in a 6 day period. And I like the sound of the slogan better, too: Six Days At A Time.

And this despite the fact that the suggestion to live in the minute is part of the foundation of every religion and spiritual philosophy ever, as far as I can tell. It's the whole idea behind meditation: sit quietly and breathe, relax into the minute. Sit with yourself in the minute.

Usually I can feel my mind wind up slowly like a big piece of machinery starting up, gaining momentum.

Magnify: To cause (a person or thing) to seem greater, more important, etc. than is really so; exaggerate: as, she magnified her sufferings in telling about them.

I never tire marveling at my ability to imagine that things are worse than they are. If I do something wrong -- or think that I've done something wrong -- I can feed and nourish the illusion until it dwarfs King Kong, who was the absolute largest of all of the Kongs. He was no minor Kong, and don't you wonder why we don't ever hear of any of the other Kongs? If he was the King of one, what's the big deal? It would be like me being King Horseface. Sheeyat.

Most of the time, of course, I haven't really done anything wrong or, if I have, it isn't that big a deal. Often, I've just made a mistake. It's not the end of the world.

I never beep my car horn any more unless I'm trying to warn someone or greet a friend. When someone annoys me with their aggressive driving, I think: "Meh." The guy probably made a mistake. People aren't out there trying to find me, Horseface Steve, so that they can cut me off.

And god help us when things go well. I assume it's a cosmic mistake, a divine joke, Lucy pulling back the football one more time, as I soar through the air and land flat on my back. I assume the good times won't last long. I feel guilty.

Honestly I'm probably right in the middle of the Spectrum of Pain. I have some bad stuff happen and some good stuff, too. Nothing really awful and I haven't won the lottery yet.

Nature + Nurture = Horseface

Nature: Inborn character; innate disposition; inherent tendencies of a person.
Nurture: All of the environmental factors, collectively, to which the individual is subjected from conception onward.

Such a consistent feeling of guilt and unease I can generate when things are going well. It never ceases to amaze me how uncomfortable I can get when, as Jimi would say, The Good Times Roll.

Part of this I chalk up to my makeup as an alcoholic. I am a great crisis manager. Not as good as I am in creating problems, but still good.

I know my way around problems, both real and imagined. This is an important skill for someone who can generate a pretty good problem out of a little scrap metal and some baling wire, maybe some Gorilla glue. I can make a problem appear where no problem was before.

This is the Nature part.

Part of it is how we grow up. I got a lot of negative reinforcement when I was a kid; a lot of Look Out For The Locomotive. As a current example, my ma called yesterday, sick with a cold, and warned me ". . . not to go out in public." I assume that THERE MIGHT BE GERMS OUT THERE!

This is the Nurture part.

It's OK when things go well.