I am sitting in McDonald’s lettin’ my computer charge.
I have an hour till I’m to be at my next show.
I’m out of the bloggin’ habit.
I don’t know what to write.
That’s a lie. I know what to write but it seems like so much
work to put it all down.
It wasn’t work last month but, then again, I was
deep into the blog thing….
Lettin’ the whole world know what I wanted it to know.
I don’t even want to know.
37 years sober.
No big deal.
That’s a lie…
By the time I was 25, I thought
I’d be dead…I didn’t think
I’d be reborn….but
that’s the only way to describe
what happened, the way the
Big Book describes it….
we were “reborn.”
I was a baby at life.
When the vocation guy at the half-way house said, “We could give you training for a profession.”
I said, “I have a profession. I’m a janitor.”
He tried not to laugh.
Sober, I’ve worked as a janitor, construction worker, house mover, baby sitter, detox aide, psych tech, substance abuse counselor, codependent counselor/group facilitator, interim program director, facilitator of Federal Safe and Drug Free School program in my county’s public school system, poet and piano player.
I like the last two jobs best.
My father died sober. He was 61.
My brother died of problems related to his diabetes. He was 56.
My mother was 70 when she died instantly in a terrible car accident.
I had a wife for 8 years.
I had a girlfriend for 13 years.
I’ve never had children but I have
the best damn son/grandson a non-parent could ever hope to have.
Damn, look at the time. I’m gonna be late for my gig.