Monthly Archives: April 2012

Addicted To?

So my sponsor says I am addicted to intellect and I just can’t see how that makes me an addict. I have been in those NA meetings since 1996 and there are a lot of things that have been way beyond my own understanding in all that time. I am not saying that I did not ever use drugs or even have a bit of a monkey on my back but after I moved here I shook that money clear the fuck off my back and never really looked back. I am asking myself now how can I go back to a meeting knowing in my heart that I was never really a drug addict and I never had the inclination to be one? I have heard so many stories of desperation and read about it in the Basic Text and I never really understood any of that. Even when I was smoking coke all the time if it wasn’t there I stuck around with my friend anyway because it was OK that it wasn’t there. I was his friend not his customer from the first to the last day that I saw him. I think the problem is deep down inside I always knew I never belonged there and since I have been back in meetings I have become depressed again so I have in the last few weeks stopped going and I actually feel a little better. This is what is called a crossroads in ones life. If I do not go to meetings I am alone and if I go to meetings I feel like I am wasting my time so what in the mother fuck do I do? I have always had this sense that I just don’t belong anywhere let alone in NA of all places. I mean the grand relapse after over eight and a half years clean was a six pack of Corona Light 3.5 beer where I checked my sugars after ever beer. Wow what a fucking relapse that was; shit I was reading a book while I sipped them for fucks sake. So my choices are fake it so I am not alone or just face the facts and be alone; wow what a choice I have to make. I was talking to someone in the program a few days ago and he does not feel like he fits in society and I know that feeling all to well in my life. I am aware that my intelligence alienates people but as someone told me when I said that so does stupidity so either way I am just fucked. If I am truly an addict of intellect does that mean reading a book is using? Wanting to learn how to program C++ a relapse? How the fuck do I claim clean time? How many days it’s been since I read the Washington Post? This is absolutely absurd and now that I have to face this I guess I will just remain a junkie in constant relapse and find somewhere else to hang out with people…


My Mi My

My soul has been incinerated

My mind has been detonated

My heart has been fragmented

My body has been disconnected

My world has been crushed

My perception has been defiled

My eyes have been snow-blind

My life has been deceived

My brain has been lost

My hands have been mislead

My thoughts have betrayed

My words have been cozen

My breath had been vapid

My feelings have been crestfallen

My emotions have been hollow

My feet have divagated

My essence has ached

My psyche has cracked

Save me for this is the last

Time I am going to the abyss

Someone save me….

A Memoir Idea

I have been pondering writing about my homeless dope addict years as a memoir for many years now but after three drafts it seems to go nowhere the moment I am off the streets. I feel as though once the homelessness ended the story does too. my life becomes very vapid very quickly once I am no longer wondering this great nation looking for something that was in Denver the whole time.

The idea came to me from a now long lost friend in Belarus that felt that I lived this really exciting life during that time period in my life but when I look back at it I was in the end just a homeless junkie on the run. I really did not have any friends back then and I know that due to a lack of or being on the wrong medications I was rather impossible to deal with as well. I used to have a stock of poems that I wrote back then but they were all stolen so I have no real recorded history of that time except what is still in my memory so I fear that I may in fact get some of the details wrong now. I wanted to include some of those poems into the actual book but I am no longer able to do so and that really pisses me off. My great hope is that the thief tries to publish them so I can sue her for plagiarism of my work being she is nothing but a fraud anyway and a liar.

I am not really sure where I should start the story but I had the same beginning to all the drafts:”My life really didn’t start until I got on that bus to Denver in New York City.” I picked up a book on how to write a memoir for two dollars at 2 Buck Books and I am going to see if that can guide me in the direction that I need to go with this. I am also aware that there are a ton of I was an addict stories out there so I want to focus less on the dope and more on the travels in the sense of a more modern day Beat then what I really was. If anyone has a suggestion or two for me I would love to hear them and remember we can only learn to write by reading and writing…