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.

I Keep it All

   "I appreciate your feelings
And I don't want to pass you by
But I don't ask you 'bout your business
Don't ask me about mine."

-Lynyrd Skynrd

   I keep so little to myself, and I like it that way. There is no filter. there is no holding back. People know what I like, and what I don't like. There is no second guessing. there is no ulterior motive. there is no question of disdain or joy. It is not different from the living room to the bedroom. It is not different if I'm clothed and talking to you about politics, or if I'm behind you, thrusting inside, with my belt wrapped around your neck. If I am interested in you, sometimes it's better to ignore me, or not be around me. Especially if you don't want someone being nice to you. If I want you, it might be best to forget I exist, because I will do my damnest to have you.
   "I have had to resolve myself to the fact that you like other women. That no matter what, you are going to continue to fuck other women", she said this painfully, laying naked on my bed.
   "Well, it's true. I do like women", I laughed, trying to shrug it off non-chalantly.
   "It's a hard thing to get used to."
   "I know, but at least you know where I stand. Also, I can guarantee, when I am around you, there is no one else that I am thinking about. I am completely invested in the time I spend with you", I am not trying to put her mind at ease. I am speaking the whole hearted truth. It's true. At least everyone knows where I stand. At least you don't have to guess. If you want, you can ignore it. You can put it out of your mind for the fleeting moments we are around each other. I am invested in you. When I want you...I want no one else besides you. I would rather be no other place, except by your side.
   Yet, when you leave. When you get up, put your clothes on, and walk out of my life. If it's for a day, a week, a year, I want the variety that life has to offer me, and so should you. That's the best part. I don't care how you live your life, except the portion of it that comes in contact with me.



Bad Decisions

   I don't think she realized how long I was laying there awake. I kept looking at her sleeping smile. I traced her hips with my hand. She is so light. She could feel them in her sleep. I could tell. Rolling over slightly, and pushing her ass into me, made me slow down. I didn't want to wake her. I just wanted to watch her. I just wanted to smell her. I just wanted to feel her. This is not the first time I have woken up in her bed. It's not the first time we've laid next to each other. It's not the first time we haven't had sex. This would not be the last.
   People mistake us for lovers, for boyfriend and girlfriend, but never for friends. We laugh it off. Stare at each other, wink, nod, and smile so large. It's as if the secret was a person. We know the truth. To keep them all guessing brings us small moments of youthful joy, and adult pain. Knowing what we mean to each other is all that matters.
   The night before, we rescued each other? I put that there because I know I rescued her. She asked me.
   "Cockblock", was all the text said. Oh shit, this warrants a phone call.
   "You need me to cockblock you", I asked.
   "Yes, tonight, please", I like to write this like she begged me. She wouldn't ever have to beg me to do anything.
   "I'm on a bike ride. I mean, where and when?"
   "I'm going to [place omitted] with [person omitted]."
   "OK, explain this to me. Why would you agree to go out with him if you need to be cockblocked", I think this is a very valid question.
   "He's a nice guy. He's funny and everything. I just think he wants more than I want to give him", this is a valid point.
   "OK, I'll see you there."
   "You're the best", she says this a lot.
   "That's a lie", I say that a lot.
   The question mark that I alluded to earlier was because she rescued me. I didn't even ask. I didn't even know I needed rescuing? Obviously, she did.
   "I'm going to go ahead and go home", this is the text I got from my date from the other side of [place omitted].
   "What? Why?", I walked over and found her. She was clearly drunk. The day drinking had gotten away from her.
   "It looked like you were sharing a moment with that girl."
   "What? Me? No? She's just my best friend. You walked over during a weird conversation about her date. That's all", I'm stretching the truth.
   "Well, I'm getting a headache anyways. Do you want to come home with me?"
   "Well, JJ is over there, and I was hoping to hang out with him tonight", trying to recover. I can't leave a good cockblock session.
   "OK, call me tomorrow?"
   "Absolutely", I end the date with a kiss and everyone leaves happy.
   So, there is that. Fast forward. We get yelled at twice. Once for being too loud. Seriously, it's a bar? One time for dancing to close to the kitchen doors. It didn't stop us. As we walked out the door, she hugged everyone. Including her date. She grabs a hold of my arm, tight. She always does. She holds on like a kid on a carousel for the first time. This is where it hits me. We came on separate dates, and left together.
   So, here I lay. Again. Next to her. Wondering what the hell is wrong with us? We are perfectly wrong for each other, and perfectly right at the same time. I don't over step her boundaries, and she keeps me at arms length with realistic expectations of who I am. How can we call this the night of bad decisions? When it turned out completely right?



On Top of Me

   The thoughts that go through my mind everytime I see her would make her take a shower for days. I know we aren't good for each other. We are great for each other. She holds me up when I'm about to fall. I hold her close when she needs it most. I want her in bed next to me. I've had her in bed next to me. She refuses to lay in bed next to me until I get well. I know physically she wants me. I know menatlly she wants me. I know that she steps back to admire what I am becoming, but is worried that I will take steps back to admire someone else.
   I do. I can't stop admiring. Yet, it's not someone else. It's everyone, including her. My wandering eye is who I am. My therapist hasn't commented on it. I don't know why. I think she might think it's intrinsic. Both of them. I can't hide it. I can't skirt around it. Is it something that is wrong? Is it something that is right?



  

The Last 72

Time is moving very slowly, lately. I am still wrapping my head around a lot that has happened, and a lot that has not happened. I seem to have started to dive into a little bit of a mental tailspin, which I'm hoping adds to my painting, but you can never guess these things. My body looked oddly shaped this morning, so I tried not to look at it too hard, in the mirror, this morning. I had three bad dreams in a row. I can't keep certain people out of my head. I want so badly to have organized thoughts. I need a whole day to growl and be unbelievably rude to people. I need my sarcasm to seeth. I......I......I......I...........can't stop my fingers from stuttering as I run them across my keyboard.