Bottoms Up

There’s lot of talk about bottoms that happens in and around recovery. And we ain’t talking Daisy Dukes, y’all. It’s something we hear in the public vernacular, especially when it comes to another fall from grace from someone more often found in Star magazine rather than star-k naked and running around traffic in some sort…

Stich ‘n’ Bitch – Unwound And Rewound

Remember when you first ever heard your voice played back on some sort of recording device?  Mine was a cassette machine (yeah, dated myself – what else is new?)  No doubt I was dictating some sort of manifesto in a robust manner, with a fedora hat on head and Popeye Cigarette candy in hand for…

Odd Fellows

I am a grateful recovered alcoholic. The first time I heard someone say that, I was taken aback, and thought it…odd.  Grateful?  For what exactly? We’re these sick, ostracized, mentally polluted and broken folk who have a lifetime of suffering and harm to make up for.  We’re this ragtag group of ne’er-do-wells who can’t hold their liquor,…

Hideous Me, Glorious Me.

I never liked chips when I was growing up.  In fact, my folks didn’t really keep chips in the house.  No Pringles, no Lay’s, no crunchy treats lying around.  Oh now and then, there would be some, but my folks usually ate them, late at night or with dinner.  Sometimes they would ask me to…

The Turn

So I’ve taken up that “jogging” fad that people seem to be taking to these days.  If you had told me that five weeks ago I would be eyeing shoes for pounding the pavement, I would have thought you mad.  Jogging, or “running” as they also call it (I looked it upon the interweb), is…

Have You Met My Friend Jack?

“I’ve got news for you pal, you ain’t leading but two things right now: Jack and shit… and Jack just left town”.  – From Army of Darkness. While not exactly the most elegant quote, someone in a meeting used a variation of that one the other night – that there were only two things he knew out there while drinking…

Contain Yourself, Boy

I am not on Facebook.  Or Pinterest.  Or Myspace.  I can also confirm that I don’t have a Tumblr account, have any knowledge of Instagram, Four Square or Tagged.  I am unsure of what some of those “share” buttons on my own blog even do, and am afraid to get anywhere near things that ask…

Uncle Miguel

My uncle Miguel was the only uncle I had and knew.  He was my mother’s brother and that was absolutely it in the direct uncle / aunt department.  Lots of families I knew were resplendent with cousins and other extended family. My family has always been a tiny clan, and so while we may have saved…

Twenty One Days

(I read a post by Sherry at Maintain the Zen a few weeks ago, and it was just beautiful.  She wrote a letter to herself, speaking to herself as a little girl.  I guess it must have stayed with me, unconsciously, as tonight, without any provocation,  I felt guided to do something of the same….

Back When The Beaver Hit The Bong

Ah the good ol’ days. Well, more accurately, the past as we perceive through a hazy nostalgic set of goggles which are adjusted to a setting  that only allows us to acknowledge only what we want to see, deflecting and ignoring the things that don’t feed into the false ideal and image that we choose…