I’m never here anymore. This blog, I mean. I am well: still sober, still writing, very happy. As far as human beings go. I came, today, looking for a sentence I remembered writing. I have not found it. I don’t know if I wrote it, after all, or if that is simply a dream I …
I sometimes feel like a muttering idiot. I cannot much tell the difference between what I am saying, doing, and what is typically called madness. There are days the difficulty is so big I can’t even form the questions. What does Kansas City have to do with pilgrimage, I mean. This is a ridiculous thing, …
Generation: because the act of writing about my alcoholism turns out to be the act of writing about my father’s alcoholism, and recovery from my addiction is actually a recovery from his. They say that. That alcoholism is a family disease. Give or take genetic tendencies, we are who we are because we are what …
Looking back, I think I’d begun the process of the fourth step from the first few days. Like my life was all contained in a one big box, and I took it in my hands, flipped it over so everything fell on the floor, and said here’s nothing. What dust is kicked up. What shattering …
