I forgot that I had told DUI Guy I was going to be at the meeting today and tomorrow and I was surprised to see him sitting in the back row . . . with a notebook and a 12 & 12. He stills looks miserable. Beating the shit out of himself miserable. On the rare occasions that I think some tough love would be appropriate I'm usually electro-shocked back into reality by how ruined a new person is. Talking tough to me seems like piling on.
I have a semi-busy day today being totally self-centered so I didn't really feel like sitting down with someone feeling sorry for himself and listening to him drone on and on about what a raw deal he was getting after getting caught doing some illegal - dangerously illegal. "I was almost home," he said, shaking his head ruefully, as if that made it okay. I was not surprised to find out that we were reading from Step 12 in today's literature meeting: carrying the message to another suffering alcoholic. And there I was with the stoner/psychedelic rock band from Poland, Weedpecker, all queued up on my earbuds. After the meeting I invited him to join me for a coffee, an offer he eagerly accepted. For the first thirty minutes I sat there and listened to him detail his travails until he began to talk himself out. If I think about something I can usually warp it into the shape I want but when I'm talking to someone live, listening to myself talk, the shit can get pretty irrational. I can't believe I have the guts to spool out some of the crap I'm spooling out. It gets embarrassing. I could see him losing steam. There were a few pauses where I tossed in an idea or two and because he was losing steam I could see him consider the remarks. When someone wants to talk that means they don't want to listen.
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