Fubar Canyons of My Life

Well, I've managed to almost completely Fubar my life beyond recognition.
I may just take my paycheck at the end of the month and get on a bus and go live with a friend out west.
That's plan B.
What is plan A you ask?
Survive until the end of the month.

In other news, go read this post at the Rawness about Intermittent Rewards.


And as proof that I have far yet to fall: Here's what happens when you cast Lindsay Lohan in your film.

I can at least tell myself I passively make bad decisions rather than actively like were I to cast a train wreck in a film I was directing.

But then I realize I'm rationalizing. I'm not accepting culpability for fucking up my life.
I chose and I now must pay. The scales of justice are exact in certain ways.
Feast or famine.
There is only briefly time spent in between the polar opposites.We are always progressing on the timeline toward one or the other: feast or famine.

My life of relative normalcy died when I told her I wanted a divorce. And now others must contend with the wake of my destruction, for which, I am sorry.
I fear being alone as most womanizers do and I fear my ability or lack thereof to control my drinking.

I'm considering going back to AA meetings, they're just so fucking depressing.
But, I cannot let my life slide into what it was for the 6 months when I drank every day.
Back then, I didn't honestly care that I was killing myself with booze.
Now, for the first time in a long time, I genuinely see and know that I don't want that for myself.

The trick is making it one day at a time.