Celtic Words & Fury

I. Manifesto –

I am going to write. And I am going to write – about various topics, until I’m done, until I pass out, until I am distracted, until the next round of sickness, calamity or fortune. Some of what i write will be difficult to read – not just in content or context, but because I am going to fuck up a lot and try not to correct much. As Allen Ginsberg said, “First thought, best thought.” None of this will be in order. Much of it will be pure bullshit; invective, selective memories, biases, secrets, betrayal, and the Truth somewhere in there. Not Objective Truth, but rather, the hidden essence or meaning beneath, behind and in front of the words, some of which I know, and much of what I won’t – as Rummy said, “There are knowns, unknowns and known unknowns,” and if you expect me to be a reliable narrator, fair, or in any way nice, you are mistaken. I can’t guarantee king-hell craziness on the order of the good doctor Thompson, but I hope that at least a small portion of myself shines through the murk, gives you something to think about (hate, love, it’s all the same to me, I’m a Post-Modernist) or laugh along the way. Hold on to your hats, kids, we’re not stopping for piss breaks, so hold onto your bottles when you’re done, we’re driving straight through.

5/23/20

I’m going to start with something basic. Save your questions for the end of the lecture please, and then carefully write them out longhand and deliver them safely to File 13 using whatever is left of the USPS after Fuckface #45 destroys it in a bid to further erode what little remains of the democracy we clong to.

Okay. As some of you know, I recently moved yet again – the details are unimportant, save for the fact that I am a poor houseguest and usually wear out my welcome, and I did so again. Much gratitude and respect to Sean Brooks for sheltering me and extending so much kindness and generosity to me. I recently incurred a slight wound on my foot and it didn’t heal well. After it seemed to get worse, I went to the hospital on the advice of my PCP. (At this point, for those keeping track, Home Base is Aunt Betty’s House. )

She thought it was Cellulitis, and it was. Oh, baby it was all that and more – Staphylococcus .

So I had a horrifically painful infection that ravaged my leg and it was overridden with blisters. Yay.

And it hurt like a motherfucker.

After some predictable screaming, crying, confronting and standing up to doctors and the incredible aid and support from the phenomenal and patient nurses and MOST of the doctors and adjoining staff I was released back out into the Wild after 11 days. I had minor surgery and remain on antibiotics as my leg heals. I am projected to have a full recovery.

IN THE MEANTIME, Becki has been taking care of me, feeding me, making sure I take my meds, offering a great deal of helpful tips, ideas, suggestions and command to help me better myself. Once again, I am in overflowing with love and gratitude towards my benefactor. As an added bonus, I hope I have brought some timely humor and irreverence to her. Nightly we engage in highly questionable acts of Nostalgia and seriously helpful bouts of coloring for stress relief.

At this time I don’t know what the future holds for me. I am trying to concentrate on improving my physical and mental health. I am 29 days short of 2 years of Sobriety and am very, very proud of that. I always knew that I would one day end up in a church basement. I was just too stubborn and rash to behave accordingly.

My gratitude list is long. You all know who you are. I am most grateful for my life, and the clarity of purpose that I now have. I’m still stumbling around in the dark, trying to find all of the right pieces, but I know that they’re there and the light in the corner is in fact a way out. Being sober is about so much more than not using. Every day I discover something I’ve buried or forgotten, or some event becomes fuller and more vivid to me from my past. I’m trying to take the lessons from these moments as well as the joy and even some of the heartbreak without assaulting myself for my thoughts and self destructive impulses. But I need the entire picture to proceed, and learning to live with the ragged, unfinished and problematic aspects of My Narrative is my goal.

So, I think that’s plenty for now.

Be best,

Asthma Dan