Tempest

Soundtrack:

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The guy babbling to me is yakked out of his mind on Bolivian Marching Powder.
I can tell almost immediately.
Later the absurd amount of alcohol he feverishly consumes of varied types will confirm this. That and the runny nose. The trips to the bathroom. To the Limo. Having his driver always prepared to handle his money for him and escort him limo to door and back out from whence he came.

The old me would have ended up fruitlessly lost at some bullshit house party early the next morning debating if I could swing a $50 cab fare to get out of wherever the fuck I found myself.

The new me watches and observes and dodges the come-ons of a girl not cute enough to get my sober dick but she tries hard and I consistently debate sleeping in my car for the last 90 minutes of the evening.
I feel like Gatsby surveying morass of the partygoers, retiring before the tomfoolery really begins and the rigamarole becomes commonplace.
My thoughts briefly drift to my ex-wife and us kids trying to run off and be happy together.
I wish her the best silently as some bullshit rap top 40 plays and some clowns breakdance or what passes for it nearby. Even the guys look like shit out here tonight. What the fuck.
Step your bullshit game up people. No wonder no one's going home and fucking tonight. None of you deserve shit.

I find my senses for picking up sharper than when I'm slammed drunk and/or **** but then lose motivation and just enjoy being out, but there's just not a lot of talent out this night.
I see a guy I can't fucking stand and he tries to backhandedly clown me but I dismiss him with a tepid wave of the hand b/c this piece of shit doesn't deserve to look at the fade on my jeans.

I eat some food and sleep in my car until morning, wake up, grind at the gym, get an edge up b/c I've been slacking in that realm, grab coffee, hit a meeting, grab more coffee and debate if I'll do some hunting tonight.

You have to go where the zebra are.
I feel thou uproarious shark of heaven slide behind my eyes and I hunger.
I know I must be careful for my addiction will slide in with a booster seat and let me think I'm in control.

My disease wants me alone.
Right now, and for much of this day, I have felt alone.
I know I don't have to pick up, but rarely, as I do sometimes, I feel frustration, but I know this will pass.

I don't feel the terror, the bewilderment, the anxiety, the frustration, the endless grind, the wordless weariness, the inexorable footsteps toward the bar where I don't know when the leviathan will let me be...but it never did, because even when I slept, it was not sleep. There was no respite. I recharged my battery only enough to wake up and face the hell of another day stuck in that cycle.

As I look on it now and play the tape through, I am grateful.

I know not to whence I go, but none of that matters.
I don't have to drink or use and I can soak it all in rather than anesthetize myself in the manner I did for nearly a third of my life.

Good luck and happy hunting,
     - Yrs. in Christ