I was cleaning the kitchen this morning and reminiscing about some old drinking escapades. (Yes, I clean the kitchen. I'm not the best looking guy around but I can handle myself pretty well with a can of Lysol or Mr. Clean and all of the other helpful chemicals that DuPont and Dow can come up with.) Probably I was trying to distract myself from cleaning the kitchen, which I hate to do, and wondering why SuperK was sleeping in and not cleaning the kitchen herself. It's bad enough that I have to give her directions if she wants a cracker or a chip.
I digress. One of the stories that got me chuckling involved a friend of mine who had just started medical school. We were driving around looking for a small bowling alley that had been rented by someone - did it ever matter who? - for a private party. We pull into the lot and start taking hits off of his homemade bong. It was about three feet tall. It was purple. It was a real beauty. It delivered hits as smooth as a mountain lake in the early morning. I'm pulling on a quart or two of Colt 45 which I have nestled between my legs. There's a loud crack on the driver's side window.
"Hey, watch it," my friend says, laughing, thinking no doubt that someone we knew saw us pull in. He had a distinctive car. He rolls down the window. A uniformed hand reaches in and snatches the bong, quick as that. My door flies open and a couple of flashlights start probing the interior of the car, quickly locating the bag of pot and beer detritus. More cop cars pull up, lights flashing, and train their headlights on us. We were not inconspicuous. We were not making a subtle entrance.
"Books, how bad is this?" my friend asked after they read us the riot act and disappeared for a minute.
"I don't know," I replied. I imagined a jail cell. It's not that I'm too pretty for a jail cell but I'm not ugly enough either.
For some reason the police take all of our party material and let us go. We sit in the car for a minute and breathe a sigh of relief.
"Do you think we should ask them for the pot back?" the doc asks.
"I don't think so," I say.
"How about the bong? That's not illegal, is it? That was a pretty cool bong. It wasn't easy to make."
"Let it go, " I advise.
He thinks for a minute.
"That pot cost me a lot of money," he says.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
I Am Iron Man
Biggish: Somewhat big. (Shit. I didn't think I was going to find this definition. I had something pretty clever to say.)
I'm contemplating doing something new. Actually, a couple of new things and they're both on the biggish side. I don't like new and big as a general rule because I get afraid that things won't work out well for me. I realize that this is a redundant topic, that I'm repeating myself and saying the same things over and over. I'm too lazy to come up with new things and too shallow to come up with big things.
Herr Luber calls these topics "ancient riffs." I'm sure he's thinking about Beethoven or Vivaldi and not "Smoke on the Water" or "Iron Man," but we're in sync with the general concept. Sometimes it's OK to hang on to a few core beliefs. There's some stability with that. Sometimes it's fun to run amok, too.
I do think that life is one big amusement park. I think we should enter the gates and just run around like 5 year olds, shrieking and gesticulating wildly and changing our minds every chance we can get. "I want to ride the roller coaster," we should scream. "No! The Twister! I mean the Mouse Trap! Whoopee!!" I spend too much time thinking about whether the Mouse Trap is going to make me nauseous or the line for the roller coaster is too long or why would I get on any of these fairly dangerous rides considering the general appearance of the carnies operating them? I'm not sure the quality control is too good.
I don't mean new things like playing Russian Roulette or selling all of my Stuff and going to live in the mountains of Bhutan. That's crazy new, which can be OK some of the time as well, Mr. Iron Man. I'm talking about controlled train wreck new. The kind where you know you're going to wreck but you aren't going too fast and you have the brakes locked up and you're wearing a helmet. That would be pretty cool, just to see what happened, as long as it's someone else's train. Don't do this with your own train. That would be crazy new.
And glad to hear from Edward. People show me how to look at things from a different point of view.
I'm contemplating doing something new. Actually, a couple of new things and they're both on the biggish side. I don't like new and big as a general rule because I get afraid that things won't work out well for me. I realize that this is a redundant topic, that I'm repeating myself and saying the same things over and over. I'm too lazy to come up with new things and too shallow to come up with big things.
Herr Luber calls these topics "ancient riffs." I'm sure he's thinking about Beethoven or Vivaldi and not "Smoke on the Water" or "Iron Man," but we're in sync with the general concept. Sometimes it's OK to hang on to a few core beliefs. There's some stability with that. Sometimes it's fun to run amok, too.
I do think that life is one big amusement park. I think we should enter the gates and just run around like 5 year olds, shrieking and gesticulating wildly and changing our minds every chance we can get. "I want to ride the roller coaster," we should scream. "No! The Twister! I mean the Mouse Trap! Whoopee!!" I spend too much time thinking about whether the Mouse Trap is going to make me nauseous or the line for the roller coaster is too long or why would I get on any of these fairly dangerous rides considering the general appearance of the carnies operating them? I'm not sure the quality control is too good.
I don't mean new things like playing Russian Roulette or selling all of my Stuff and going to live in the mountains of Bhutan. That's crazy new, which can be OK some of the time as well, Mr. Iron Man. I'm talking about controlled train wreck new. The kind where you know you're going to wreck but you aren't going too fast and you have the brakes locked up and you're wearing a helmet. That would be pretty cool, just to see what happened, as long as it's someone else's train. Don't do this with your own train. That would be crazy new.
And glad to hear from Edward. People show me how to look at things from a different point of view.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Stuff.
Stuff: To fill too full; cram; overload: as the drawer is stuffed with papers.
There's a great scene from an episode of The Simpsons where the wealthy industrialist Montgomery Burns is lying on his deathbed, waiting to expire from some unknown ailment, and his assistant Waylon Smithers asks him if he has any last words of wisdom that he would like to share. He leans in close to hear the whispery voice croak out a final thought.
"I only wish," Mr. Burns wheezes, "that I'd spent more time at the office."
First of all, don't you wonder how an adult man can navigate his way through life when he bases all of his philosophical tenets on a series of dim-witted and fairly profane cartoon characters running on the Fox network? It's not easy, I can tell you that.
Anyway, if I get the joke here -- and I think that I do -- the point is that . . . well, it's a pretty obvious point. You'd have to be pretty sheltered not to get it. Work is great and everything and we all have to do it to fund whatever shallow and pointless pursuits that we think are critical to our happiness. But a lot of us spend too much time doing it and thinking about it and letting it drive who we are.
I can acquire things or I can acquire experiences. Things are deceptive and illusory and strangely compelling. I see things and I want things. I spend money on an experience and I'm not left with anything tangible to hold in my hand. Now if I buy a piece of stuff, then I can heft it up and wield it like a club. I can say: "Hey, look at this stuff." I can show it off and gaze at it lovingly. That's why it's so compelling. It's a thing that shows how important you are.
The experience, however, lives in my head forever.
There's a great scene from an episode of The Simpsons where the wealthy industrialist Montgomery Burns is lying on his deathbed, waiting to expire from some unknown ailment, and his assistant Waylon Smithers asks him if he has any last words of wisdom that he would like to share. He leans in close to hear the whispery voice croak out a final thought.
"I only wish," Mr. Burns wheezes, "that I'd spent more time at the office."
First of all, don't you wonder how an adult man can navigate his way through life when he bases all of his philosophical tenets on a series of dim-witted and fairly profane cartoon characters running on the Fox network? It's not easy, I can tell you that.
Anyway, if I get the joke here -- and I think that I do -- the point is that . . . well, it's a pretty obvious point. You'd have to be pretty sheltered not to get it. Work is great and everything and we all have to do it to fund whatever shallow and pointless pursuits that we think are critical to our happiness. But a lot of us spend too much time doing it and thinking about it and letting it drive who we are.
I can acquire things or I can acquire experiences. Things are deceptive and illusory and strangely compelling. I see things and I want things. I spend money on an experience and I'm not left with anything tangible to hold in my hand. Now if I buy a piece of stuff, then I can heft it up and wield it like a club. I can say: "Hey, look at this stuff." I can show it off and gaze at it lovingly. That's why it's so compelling. It's a thing that shows how important you are.
The experience, however, lives in my head forever.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
On the Road Again
I have a cold. I'm sick. It's so annoying to get sick. It's such a waste of time. I don't see the advantage of it and I would prefer that it didn't happen to me. Illness is the mosquito of the human condition: it has absolutely no value. I think I got sick on the plane coming back from vacation, wedged into my seat in coach like a steer on the way to the slaughterhouse. I was obviously wedged in with someone who was already infected. Maybe this individual infected me on purpose. "If that guy reclines his seat one more time I'm going to cough in his ear."
Even though I got sick the trip was totally worth it. There is nothing as illuminating as travel. It feeds my soul in a way that I don't fully understand. I know that a big part of it is the anticipation of newness, the challenge of experiencing something for the first time. I never go anywhere more than once as a general rule. If I've seen it, I've seen it. If I haven't seen it, I want to see what it's all about. I spent the first 28 years of my life researching the ins and outs of life in a dark bar. I've got that down. I know what that's all about. I don't need to do that anymore.
I like the stress of travel, too. It makes me change. As a general rule I don't change unless I'm under some duress. It's a good sign if I want to get out of the trip the night before I leave. I want to think: "What the hell am I doing this for again?" I want the challenge of tackling a new experience.
I would prefer, however, to be returned to soundness of body.
Even though I got sick the trip was totally worth it. There is nothing as illuminating as travel. It feeds my soul in a way that I don't fully understand. I know that a big part of it is the anticipation of newness, the challenge of experiencing something for the first time. I never go anywhere more than once as a general rule. If I've seen it, I've seen it. If I haven't seen it, I want to see what it's all about. I spent the first 28 years of my life researching the ins and outs of life in a dark bar. I've got that down. I know what that's all about. I don't need to do that anymore.
I like the stress of travel, too. It makes me change. As a general rule I don't change unless I'm under some duress. It's a good sign if I want to get out of the trip the night before I leave. I want to think: "What the hell am I doing this for again?" I want the challenge of tackling a new experience.
I would prefer, however, to be returned to soundness of body.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Lead
Lead: To show the way to; to mark the way for.
Sometimes when I'm listening to someone share What It Was Like at a meeting, I find myself running a short clip of a typical Homer Simpson debacle. You can picture the scene: Homer gets too close to the edge of a cliff which breaks off. He falls a long way, bouncing off the rock walls as he plummets. Eventually, he gets caught on a ledge and breathes a sigh of relief, only to have his perch collapse and send him down again. When he reaches the bottom of the gorge all of the debris that he dislodged on the long descent smashes down on him. Then a truck runs over him and he catches fire. Then . . . you get the point.
I was vaguely aware that things weren't going too well when I was drinking but I was able to ignore the magnitude of the destruction. It was quite the revelation the first time I tried to recount the series of events that brought me to A.A.. Before I started my lead I worried that I wouldn't be able to fill the better part of an hour with my prattle. I was stunned at how many bad things happened to me as a result of my drinking and drugging. It got boring. It was like listening to white noise or a jackhammer running. Eventually I just tuned myself out.
Every one of us, no matter how desperate our final circumstances, can help someone else.
Sometimes when I'm listening to someone share What It Was Like at a meeting, I find myself running a short clip of a typical Homer Simpson debacle. You can picture the scene: Homer gets too close to the edge of a cliff which breaks off. He falls a long way, bouncing off the rock walls as he plummets. Eventually, he gets caught on a ledge and breathes a sigh of relief, only to have his perch collapse and send him down again. When he reaches the bottom of the gorge all of the debris that he dislodged on the long descent smashes down on him. Then a truck runs over him and he catches fire. Then . . . you get the point.
I was vaguely aware that things weren't going too well when I was drinking but I was able to ignore the magnitude of the destruction. It was quite the revelation the first time I tried to recount the series of events that brought me to A.A.. Before I started my lead I worried that I wouldn't be able to fill the better part of an hour with my prattle. I was stunned at how many bad things happened to me as a result of my drinking and drugging. It got boring. It was like listening to white noise or a jackhammer running. Eventually I just tuned myself out.
Every one of us, no matter how desperate our final circumstances, can help someone else.
Monday, September 21, 2009
People Who Don't Like Me
I went to a little family reunion thing recently. I'm not particularly well liked by my family, as astounding as this may be for someone who is so universally loved and admired and revered and cherished and . . . did I say loved already? It won't hurt to say it again. I am definitely the individual in my family who isn't DOING IT RIGHT. I'm going to admit that this is the truth. They all do it one way - a perfectly fine way of doing things, by the way - and I do it another way. I almost always do things the other way. There's the right way, the smart way, and there's my way. Actually, I don't think that they actively dislike me but I do think if I never showed up at any family gatherings, which I'm doing with increasing frequency, anyway, that no one would be too upset.
As a people pleaser, my emotional development, such as it is, has gone through a few different phases. At first, it was important that everyone liked me. I would do whatever it took to make you like me, even if you clearly didn't like me. In fact, I was drawn like a bear to honey to anyone who didn't like me. I was especially interested in spending time with these people. I would knock someone down who liked me to get close to someone who didn't. I was obsessed with getting the people who didn't like me to like me. I could have cared less about those of you who did like me, on the occasions when I could find you.
Then I came to the shocking revelation that some of you just don't like me, and that was never going to change. Now, I don't like some of you, and this makes perfect sense to me. I have totally justified this internally. I can see your faults. But I had a lot of trouble grasping the concept that other people might not like me. I have hidden my faults so well.
Finally, I have come to the conclusion that this is all OK. I'm amused when I run into people who don't like me. I'm not suggesting any malevolence here, either, active hatred or anything like that. There are just some people who would rather go talk to some other people who aren't me.
So be it.
As a people pleaser, my emotional development, such as it is, has gone through a few different phases. At first, it was important that everyone liked me. I would do whatever it took to make you like me, even if you clearly didn't like me. In fact, I was drawn like a bear to honey to anyone who didn't like me. I was especially interested in spending time with these people. I would knock someone down who liked me to get close to someone who didn't. I was obsessed with getting the people who didn't like me to like me. I could have cared less about those of you who did like me, on the occasions when I could find you.
Then I came to the shocking revelation that some of you just don't like me, and that was never going to change. Now, I don't like some of you, and this makes perfect sense to me. I have totally justified this internally. I can see your faults. But I had a lot of trouble grasping the concept that other people might not like me. I have hidden my faults so well.
Finally, I have come to the conclusion that this is all OK. I'm amused when I run into people who don't like me. I'm not suggesting any malevolence here, either, active hatred or anything like that. There are just some people who would rather go talk to some other people who aren't me.
So be it.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Once Again: Me.
Conundrum: A riddle whose answer is a pun; any puzzling question or problem.
I often ponder the difference between my will and god's will. It's quite the conundrum. I am perfectly acquainted with my will. I should probably capitalize that for effect: My Will. Maybe all caps: MY WILL. Then I could throw in an exclamation point, a couple of exclamation points: MY WILL!! Now we're talking.
Anyway, MY WILL!! seems to revolve around the essential tenets of More money, More power, More sex. Maximize the pleasure, minimize the pain, that sort of thing. God's will is a little trickier. It seems to revolve around not doing MY WILL!! but seeking god's will, which brings me back around to the problem of not knowing what god's will is for me. It's all very circular. And a lot of the time, when I'm running amok, which is most of the time, god's will seems to stand in direct opposition to me doing my will.
The Program seems to put a lot of emphasis on being of service to others. I don't see how this helps me get what I want, which is other people being of service to me. In fact, it appears to be diametrically opposed. I heard early on that You Have To Give It Away To Keep It. That made no sense whatsoever, accustomed as I was to trying to get other people to give things to me. If I gave something away I didn't get to keep it. "Great," I thought. "These people are insane," I thought. "How do I get out of here, anyway?"
I think god wants me to seek to do his will. God knows I don't know his will. It's a little party trick he likes to trot out. I think that God wants me to give it a shot, at least pretend that I have some interest in other people and in trying to find my place in the grand scheme of the universe. He knows that in my essence I don't, really, have any interest in anyone but myself but he gives a lot of points for effort. It's like when you're polite to someone you can't stand.
It's just the right thing to do, I think.
I often ponder the difference between my will and god's will. It's quite the conundrum. I am perfectly acquainted with my will. I should probably capitalize that for effect: My Will. Maybe all caps: MY WILL. Then I could throw in an exclamation point, a couple of exclamation points: MY WILL!! Now we're talking.
Anyway, MY WILL!! seems to revolve around the essential tenets of More money, More power, More sex. Maximize the pleasure, minimize the pain, that sort of thing. God's will is a little trickier. It seems to revolve around not doing MY WILL!! but seeking god's will, which brings me back around to the problem of not knowing what god's will is for me. It's all very circular. And a lot of the time, when I'm running amok, which is most of the time, god's will seems to stand in direct opposition to me doing my will.
The Program seems to put a lot of emphasis on being of service to others. I don't see how this helps me get what I want, which is other people being of service to me. In fact, it appears to be diametrically opposed. I heard early on that You Have To Give It Away To Keep It. That made no sense whatsoever, accustomed as I was to trying to get other people to give things to me. If I gave something away I didn't get to keep it. "Great," I thought. "These people are insane," I thought. "How do I get out of here, anyway?"
I think god wants me to seek to do his will. God knows I don't know his will. It's a little party trick he likes to trot out. I think that God wants me to give it a shot, at least pretend that I have some interest in other people and in trying to find my place in the grand scheme of the universe. He knows that in my essence I don't, really, have any interest in anyone but myself but he gives a lot of points for effort. It's like when you're polite to someone you can't stand.
It's just the right thing to do, I think.
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