It's Been a Weird Month, I Like It

   So, I am about 32 hours away from a full, alcohol free(among other things), month. This month has proved to be surprising, eye opening, and rewarding. Physical and mental health have never been a top priority of mine. Those two topics, in my life, have been approached with a kind of battlefield like sensibility. "Kill 'em all, and let God sort 'em out." Well, yesterday was my first, full, three mile run. I've been to numerous bars, and been able to keep up with my drinking counterparts. My artwork is making leaps that I never thought possible. My whole style and technique have evolved. "Changing" was a word that kept coming to mind, but "evolved" sounds more accurate. Also, I have been taking care to dress, more like the adult man that I am.
   "Are you going out to a nice dinner", my ex-wife asked me, on Saturday, in a slightly condescending tone.
   "No, mom, this is just how he dresses, when he's not working in the yard, or on the Jeep", my son chimed in defense.
   "Well, you look nice", I hate my ex-wife, but the compliment was appreciated. Sitting here, I am still wondering what is coming of this. I think I've pretty much resolved that this is not going to be my last sober month. Dare I say, that I like it.
   I like that I can hold conversations over drinks and feel like I'm making a linear point. I like that I can drive anywhere, whenever I want, and I dare the fucking pigs to pull me over. Also, the fact that there is no worry about getting anyone else home safely, that makes me feel proud. I like that I have lost weight. I like that I feel motivated. I like that I feel......well....that I feel more. I like that I have regained my posture. I like that I feel power over myself. I like the fact that I don't have to worry about "whiskey dick", at all.
   "You look younger", he exclaimed as we walked down the sidewalk.
   "What? Seriously?" That came from left field. My son is a typical moody, brooding teenager. Things like this don't usually come out of his mouth.
   "You look fucking good. You look.....and I know this sounds strange, but you look happy?" I could tell this was almost gut-wrenching for him, as it came out of his mouth.
   "Thank you, really. Thank you", I brushed myself off in a Jay-Z fashion, smoothing out my dress shirt and tie. It was Sunday. Slung my arm around his shoulder, in a half hearted headlock.
   It's this that I love.
   It's this that I want.
   It's this, that I want noticed.





  
  
   

Drinking

   Well, I guess this is as good a place to confess something as any. I quit drinking exactly 19 days ago. Am I an alcoholic? No. Have I lost a job, kid, wife, girlfriend, or fuck all? No. I just wanted a change of pace. I keep telling myself that I don’t need a drink. That another day without is another day that I feel stronger, faster, slimmer, smarter, friendlier, and this is all true. About four days into this self initiated sobriety I recieved a call from a bitching ex-girlfriend, and that didn’t even shake my resolve.
   I had always thought of myself in Hunter S. Thompson terms, but until you are 24 years into it, and that is completely literal (twenty four fucking years into it), don’t come to me thinking you know how to deal with the process of suddenly having clear thoughts. That is 24 years of fist fights, vomiting, shaking from too much, shaking from too little, breaking hotel lobby coffee tables, driving OD’ing friends to the ER, helping strippers vomit in your bathtub so they can aim better than in your toilet, fucking for 48 straight hours, knocking on random doors for shotgun shells, stealing clothes from midget strippers, trying to break into art museums at 4 in the morning, etc. Do not blame me for not knowing how to process my thoughts into words, words into actions, and actions into something satisfying. I’m just as lost in this as anyone else. Am I trying to prove a point to any one? No. Am I trying to prove a point to myself? No. So, what happened? I don’t know. I really don’t.
   I just woke up one morning, looked at both the girls laying on either side of me, and asked, “Do ya’ll want breakfast? I can even make ya’ll mimosas.”
    “Mimosas for everyone!!!”, the brunette said, half elated, half hangover whispering through her lips.
    To which I said,”No, just for ya’ll. I think I’m gonna take a little break.” That was my decision that morning, and that has remained my decision for 19 days now. I’m not going to lie. I want a drink. Somedays worse that others. Yet, every morning I wake up and get out of bed, instead of dragging myself out of bed, and I am…fuck it…..I’m happy. Happy like a retarded kid that just got some basic arithmetic right. It’s dumb, it’s small, but it’s satisfying.
     I don’t know why I wrote this. I think it was because I just saw a picture of some delicious Gin, and my mind told me how awesome it probably tasted. Maybe it was because I just thought about a pair of young breasts, and how nice it would be to pour Jack down them, laying my tongue on her belly button, to catch it like a thirsty dog. Maybe it’s because this is what you do 19 days into sobriety. You reflect, and feel like an idiot for telling anyone about a minor accomplishment. Fuck, I don’t know. I just know that 19 days ago, I stopped, and yet, at the same time, I started.



One week

Completely sober, as of tonight at midnight. I'm surprising myself.