More tunes for mid-July 2017

Been a long damn day. Turning to tunes…

A song I’ve yet to tire of since first hearing during my freshman year in college:

That was “Battleflag” by Lo Fidelity Allstars (or is a remix by Pigeonhed?).

Keeping with a few personal favorites, Tom Petty’s “Runnin’ Down a Dream”:

Tonight I uploaded a remix of Billy Idol’s famous song, “White Wedding (Razormaid Remix)”:

Depeche Mode’s “Hole To Feed”:

One I’ve posted up on here already not too long ago: Grace – “You Don’t Own Me (ft. G-Eazy) (Candyland Remix)”:

Freemasons – “Uninvited (Original Alanis Morissette Mix)”:

“Time To Let It Go” — Cedric Burnside & Lightnin’ Malcolm:

That’s enough for tonight.

$300+ down the hole (journaling on a Sunday in July)

Another day, another dollar evaporating into thin air.

Neighborhood kid was batting rocks in our parking lot yesterday and shattered the back windshield of my car. irked_smilies  Neighbors warned them to quit doing that, but young wannabe-hooligans don’t listen. Shattered the whole fucking windshield. Three hours later I finally found out about it despite being in my apartment the whole time. Downstairs neighbor man said he tried to knock on my door, but I wish they’d knock louder. Didn’t hear him. Walked out last night at 7:30pm heading to the car to go over to my former partner’s place for dinner when the woman across the hall told me of it and which kid was responsible.

Called the police so as to file a vandalism report, but after waiting outside for over an hour for them I wound up calling back and telling them nevermind. Couldn’t wait out there all night for the cops to show. Had a witness to the incident too. Called my insurance company but of course the windshield repair will cost less than my deductible. Set up an appointment to drive my car into a nearby town to have it worked on tomorrow morning. About to head outside soon to knock the rest of the glass out and hopefully keep it all from caving in to my backseat.

Confronted the mother of the kid and her boyfriend last night. Immediately she tried saying it wasn’t her kid and that she wasn’t about to pay for shit. Told her I’m going to have to report this to the landlord since her kids have already been responsible for several other damages (including spray painting gang-related symbols and words on our garbage dumpster — since painted over by the landlord). Told her to come outside and hear from the other neighbors who know more about what happened than I do. They told her what they knew and confirmed it was indeed her kid responsible.

My former partner had invited me to dinner earlier, so I called him and asked him to come over to look at the damage and help in figuring out what to do. Showed up grumpy, per his norm anymore. When he and I were finally about to take off, the mother of the kid started getting into it with the lady from across the hall. Don’t know why, don’t care. Sick of all this drama ramping up around here.

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Creating a new playlist for my car (2017 cruising tunes)

Time to burn a new music CD to play in the car. The following tunes are resonating with me at the moment.

Alice Cooper’s “Cleansed By Fire”:

First time watching that particular fan-made video to accompany the song.

You told me that nothing’s free except my own insanity…

Loved that song since first becoming acquainted with it in the mid-’90s thanks to a boy I was dating at the time. Further proof that at least a few good things do spring even out of shitty situations. Only learned last year that it was an Alice Cooper song, having had it lodged in the back of my mind all these years.

Next up, Sugarloaf’s “Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You”:

“Ain’t No Grave” by the legendary Mr. Johnny Cash:

Never tire of watching that art compilation either.

Enigma’s “Age of Loneliness (Carly’s Song)”:

Been a fan of that song since first hearing and purchasing the “Sliver” movie soundtrack in the early ’90s. The lyrics imprinted on my psyche and have since become a sort of mantra for me. “Life is crazy, life is mad. Don’t be afraid.” Repeats in my mind nearly daily in recent years.

Led Zeppelin’s “Bron-Y-Aur Stomp”:

Nevermind that. Perhaps I’ll just load that Zeppelin III album into one of the other slots, replacing the Pantera album that’s been in there far too long anyway (and needs to be returned to who I borrowed it from).

Thinking I need some AC/DC tunes up in this instead. Starting with “The Jack”:

AC/DC – “If You Want Blood (You Got It)”:

AC/DC’s “Live Wire”:

Need to make a separate compilation CD for favorite AC/DC songs alone. Will get around to that another day…

Let’s toss in King Crimson’s “21st Century Schizoid Man”:

And “Stranglehold” by Ted Nugent:

Never tire of that tune.

Not sure how many of these will wind up fitting on the disc, but let’s add some Tom Petty for good measure. “Don’t Come Around Here No More”:

And also maybe “Aerials” by System Of A Down:

Feeling the need to also include Metallica’s “Sad But True”:

Alice Cooper quit alcohol too

Didn’t know much about the man other than enjoying a few of his songs (a couple of which were showcased in the “Dazed and Confused” and “Wayne’s World” movie soundtracks in the ’90s).

Alice Cooper’s real name is Vincent Damon Furnier (for those of us who didn’t know). Currently age 69. And he’s been off alcohol since the ’80s.

Reportedly considers himself to be a born-again Christian. Interesting. An excerpt from that linked article (published Tuesday, 28 March 2006):

Though some have questioned combining his faith in God with his rock-and-roll background, Cooper doesn’t see a conflict. “I’m the first one to rock as loud as I can, but when it comes to what I believe, I’m the first one to defend it too,” he said. “It has also gotten me in trouble with the staunch Christians who believe that in order to be a Christian you have to be on your knees 24 hours a day in a closet somewhere. Hey, maybe some people can live like that, but I don’t think that’s the way God expected us to live. When Christ came back, He hung out with the whores, the drunks and miscreants because they were people that needed Him. Christ never spent His time with the Pharisees.”

[…]

“I used to celebrate moral decay, the decadence of it,” he admitted in the KNAC.com interview. “I can look back on what I did then and what I’m doing now and they’re two different things. But at the time I was the poster boy for moral decay, you know. So yeah, I’ve got a lot to be forgiven for…out of ignorance, I thought I was doing the right thing. I was totally in agreement that every guy should sleep with every girl and drink as much as they can. I don’t believe that now. I don’t believe in it, because I see how destructive it is.”

Spiritual awakening is happening around the world, Cooper believes. “It’s obvious humanity is craving for answers directly born of awareness,” he said. “That’s the healthiest thing I’ve seen in a long time because there is something better and everybody’s gotta find it in their own way. People aren’t feeling fulfilled by how many cars they own or the size of their stock portfolio. Even the addicts are saying, ‘It doesn’t matter how many drugs I take, I’m not fulfilled. This isn’t satisfying.’ There’s a spiritual hunger going on. Everybody feels it. If you don’t feel it now, you will. Trust me. You will.”

Worth reading in full.

Far less interesting, though, is he’s now into golf.  But to each their own…

Learn something new everyday. Finding out more about this man has given me greater appreciation for him.

But I never forget his cameo appearance in the movie “Wayne’s World”:

Hehe   bow   cool

Late-night journaling in early July

Now 3.5 weeks into my commitment to stop drinking and feeling fine. No big problems thus far. The cravings come and go, but they so far haven’t proven too difficult to resist and move past (other than that one snafu night a couple weeks back, but that being the only one — feel like I have to note that for full disclosure purposes — keeping it real, heh). But yeah, so far so good. People drink around me sometimes but it hasn’t really bugged me much. One night my former partner’s beer started beckoning me, so I prepared my stuff to leave and let him know I felt a bit tempted, then I wound up reverting my attention to a National Lampoon movie on the television and forgot about it.

Though the cravings do remain and are very real. Just that they’re not as difficult to combat as I’d imagined they would be or as they were during previous times in trying to quit drinking alcohol. Still do kinda miss a big frosty mug or pint glass in my hands, but not too much. My beer can fetish is easily enough remedied by toting my Schweppes seltzer water cans around instead. Fizzy yet no calories. Goes down easy and keeps me distracted from the barley pop. Obviously lacks any kick, which I do sometimes miss, but I remind myself promptly what all tends to accompany that kick. All it takes is a trip down memory lane (even memories from this year alone) to cure me of wanting a repeat of any of that. So not worth it.

Been spending a lot more time online lately, seeing as how I have a good bit more time on my hands. Watched countless videos by Kevin O’Hara on his AlcoholMastery channel over the last three weeks, all of which have proven helpful. His calm demeanor and Irish accent is very soothing while the information and experiences he shares really resonate with me. Also wandered onto other channels on YT to listen to others’ experiences on quitting drinking, including a few millennials. Good to see so many of them recognizing the problems with that lifestyle so early in life, though I’m saddened to hear the sordid details of some of their tales. Can relate to plenty of that too. They tend to refer to their issue with alcohol as “binge drinking,” but like my former partner pointed out earlier tonight, that’s what older and heavier drinkers refer to as “novice drinkers.” Which is to say that every drinker starts out with bingeing; over the years it develops into a more steady (and generally daily) habit. It’s a progression.

Very glad to have come to my senses finally. Been knowing I had to get to this point sooner rather than later, but I struggled with it over the last couple years and wouldn’t give up the drinking. Not until I got seriously pissed off, at both myself and a good many of my fellow bar patrons. This is one example where getting angry really paid off. If one can harness it, that is. Which I finally did, partly by choice and partly because I was going to blow my lid otherwise. So sick of some of the losers I found myself in the company of at these various watering holes over the years, culminating in me arriving at the worst pub I’ve ever set foot in. But I’m grateful for what major assholes some of those people proved to be — made my decision so much easier finally. Gave me a terrific wake-up call like no other. Showed me what lay in store for folks who give in to that lifestyle and take it too far. Also showed me what a bunch of bitter jerks we can be when our lives wind up reduced to shallow indulgences that do us no good. So, for these reasons, I’m glad I waltzed into that joint earlier this year and took time to get to know those assholes. They definitely made an impression on me, and I’m pleased as punch to keep putting distance between myself and folks like them. Full-on misery loving company there. Good riddance.

Not that assholes are limited to that one watering hole. Assholes abound all throughout the barscene. I don’t doubt I was an asshole too. Kinda goes with the territory.

And I’ll probably remain an asshole-of-sorts. Just glad to no longer be ingesting a chemical that messes up my mind to where I say so many of the wrong things and frequently enough can’t even recall what they even were. Tired of feeling guilty about that. Also tired of dealing with idiots who love to get a reaction out of more emotional folks like myself. Too difficult for me to check my emotions and remain level-headed once I’ve had enough to drink. I tend to get far too reactive and mouthy. Irritated by disrespect and unnecessary bullshit, or I create it. And we’re all so prone to talk over one another’s shoulders and misunderstand each other’s intentions. They react, I react, and all communication bogs down. Hence why they prefer to keep talk so light and stupid, thinking that will stave off reasons for people to argue. But it doesn’t work that way for me. Their attempts at light and stupid tend to grate on my nerves. Just don’t possess enough patience any longer to deal with all of that. Something went snap in me over time and I no longer wish to put up with my fellow barhounds’ bullshit. Went beyond stupid, beyond depressing even. Became downright pathetic. And I do include myself in that assessment as well.

It’s all still on my mind day to day as I adjust to this new way of being. But more and more I find myself thinking about other matters and letting the bad aftertaste of dealing with those jokers slowly fade away. Will take time though. Dealt with those sorts for too long. Became one of them, at least so far as I was able to. And now that’s over and there’s all kinds of new terrain to explore.

Been re-listening to some of my audiobooks lately, including Taleeb Starkes’ Black Lies Matter and Dr. James Hollis’s What Matters Most: Living A More Considered Life. Put the last bit of volume 1 of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago on hold a few weeks back, with plans to finish it soon enough. Picked back up my print copy of Otto Rank’s Art and Artist: Creative Urge and Personality Development now that I have nifty reading glasses to aid me. Already mentioned on another recent post reading Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. A couple weeks back I listened to The Wisdom Jesus by Cynthia Bourgeault, which was just okay. Before that I listened to A Troublesome Inheritance: Genes, Race, and Human History by Nicholas Wade. And also The Undoing Project: A Friendship That Changed Our Minds by Michael Lewis, which was an interesting story. And a couple other titles that slip my mind right now.

Yesterday afternoon I rented 3 of the remakes of The Planet of the Apes films, in preparation for watching the newest one coming out later this month. Don’t know much about these movies, having only seen bits and pieces of the originals. The storyline sounds interesting, so hopefully it lives up to the expectations. Thinking of cooking up spaghetti Friday evening and nestling in to begin this series. A friend of mine also wants to see them, and my former partner said he too might try to sit through one of them (not much a movie-watcher usually). Might be fun. (Might also finally break out the new popcorn popper I received as a gift months back.)

What else? Trimmed my hair this evening. It needed it. The bleached tips are drying out and in need of gradual removal. Oiled it up tonight with argon oil (and coconut oil on the tips) after putting my usual drops of jojoba oil in with my conditioners. Managed to create a nice layering effect in the back this time around. Took some time and patience but I like the result. Been trimming my own hair for a couple years or more now and so far so good. Thinking of dyeing it again sometime soon, though I can’t settle on a shade. Went with black with reddish copper tips last time, but the black dye faded all throughout pretty fast. So much for Garnier Nutrisse being a permanent dye. The black dyes I’ve used in the past were steadfast, but not that stuff. So nevermind that brand. Leaning with going for a golden medium brown to slightly lighten my original color a bit. Done it plenty of times before to nice effect. But I’m also toying with going more amber, though it seems everybody is going for red hues these days. But solid black looks flat, and my hair is already dark brown. Burgundy shades are out since they too are all the rage right now. So medium golden brown it probably will be. Avoiding the frosting this time since it’s so damaging to my hair. Been dyeing my own hair since I was a young teen, rarely opting to go the salon route, and I’ve been mostly pleased with the results. Saves money to do it oneself, plus I’ve had my hair botched worse by stylists than by myself.

Little pretties like that make me happy. Still meaning to get around to doing my complete pedicure and possible manicure. Been lazy lately though. Have to stick with neutral shades when I do it myself since I don’t have the skills that the Asian nail tech ladies possess. Best to leave the application of dark and bright shades to them. Someday I’ll be able to afford their services again. Just have to catch up my finances for a spell before indulging in such luxuries.

That’s about it for now. Taking it easy, relaxing when not working, exercising occasionally, still staying up late most nights but aiming to wake earlier, sharing meals pretty regularly with my former partner (he’s been particularly generous lately in inviting me over for dinners — probably part of the reason I’ve yet to lose any weight these past 3 weeks), and keeping the alcohol out of my mouth (in the words of Kevin O’Hara). Oh, and on the 4th of July my former and I went on a walk to observe the local fireworks, which was nice. We rarely walk together much anymore, so that was good. Didn’t bicker too much either.

Journaling in the wee hours of the 4th of July (plus book review)

In a bit of a melancholy mood this evening. I don’t like to hear myself bitch any more than others care to listen to me bitch. But it’s fucking difficult to bottle up my emotions and to pretend they don’t exist, especially when I feel disrespected. And that’s probably a problem I have to sort out for myself since life isn’t fair and it’s never going to be. Just is what it is. Not going to go into any of that on here tonight.

Been a weird week overall. Weirdos abounding. Arguments reigniting. That car crash from last week and its aftermath. Another holiday approaching, which gets people all antsy. And here it is — the 4th of July. Independence Day. A day for Americans to wave around flags and watch parades and scarf down hotdogs and beer while reminding one another how we’re the best country on Earth, bar none. Patting ourselves on the back for what our forefathers bestowed upon us, as if we’ve proven to be good stewards of these historic blessings.

Bah! This holiday makes a scrooge out of me.

I tire of so much propaganda and the guilt-inducing patriotism. Gotta love everything about this country, right or wrong, or else GTFO. So they like to say. How kind we are to our fellow natives.

The_Bluest_Eye_Toni_MorrisonAnother thing that’s bothered me this week is I read Toni Morrison’s book The Bluest Eye. Pretty darn depressing read, though I figured on that before ordering it. Wanted to find out what this supposedly amazing author had to say that’s made her such a literary icon within the black community (as well as favored and applauded by Oprah Winfrey herself). Started out by watching an interview of Toni Morrison on youtube (was it from a Charlie Rose episode? I can’t recall). She came across as pretty darn racist. So decided to order a couple of her books (used through half.com) to find out what all the hubbub is about. Read an essay by her on the writing craft, then moved on to the book The Bluest Eye, published in 1970, this version including an afterword by her published in the 1990s.

What can I say about this book? It was well-written, I’ll give it that. Compelling enough to keep me wanting to read on. Wrapped up in the end as though its completion was being hurried, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. In her afterword section, Toni Morrison wrote on how she wasn’t terribly pleased with the book. But what got me is how she bent everything back toward race and racism. All throughout the book she described black characters who mistreated one another in awful ways, ending in a father raping and impregnating his young teenage daughter and then her mother beating her so badly that the girl went full-on crazy from thereon. The author described black parents who ordered their children around as if they had no thoughts or feelings of their own, who screamed and griped and carried on, particularly after another black man in the story was found out to be trying to molest another young black teen girl. The white people mentioned in the book were treated with scornful envy or reduced to being nasty idiots in need of black folks to care for them and their homes in order not to live in squalor. Aside from the two white rednecks who disrespected the young Cholly (the one who grew up to become the alcoholic who raped his own daughter) as he was attempting to lose his virginity the night of his aunt’s funeral — those two white guys were depicted as being part of the cause for why Cholly came out the way he did. That along with his father’s rejection after traveling to find him after Cholly’s aunt (and primary caretaker) had died. As well as having been tossed on a garbage heap by his mother when he was little more than a week old.

What gets to me about this story is that it showcases degradation within the black community, and Toni Morrison keenly portrayed it in all of its reckless degeneracy. And yet, still, somehow she found the problem to ultimately point back to white society as a whole. Not the choices of the black people written about. Not their poor parenting skills and heavy-handedness without first finding out the facts involved when it came to discipline. Not parents having sex in the same room as their kids, not to mention fighting and beating on one another. Not the drinking taken to the point that lust overcame all decency and familial bonds. White people had nothing to do with why Cholly hated women. Not even those rednecks who humiliated him deserved that honor. Yet Toni Morrison seemed to lay a good bit of the blame at their feet, claiming that Cholly redirected the animosity he felt at white people toward his own people, particularly black women and girls, as if that simply makes sense all unto itself. The mother who abandoned him was rather casually dismissed as assumed to have gone crazy. The aunt who chose to raise and care for him was spoken down about, as if her help had barely mattered at all. This was made clear when Toni Morrison claimed that the character named Cholly Breedlove had had no parenting skills to observe while coming up since he hadn’t been raised by his own parents. So what was his aunt? A nobody? Should she have simply left him to die on that garbage heap as a baby? Seems she received no credit for her sacrifices and love shown, or at least only trace amounts. Why? I think it’s because, for whatever reason(s), Toni Morrison didn’t care to flesh out his character in greater depth. She aimed to depict him as a loveless, broken man who’d given up and turned to the bottle, who hated women because he actually hated white people but couldn’t show it as openly, who came to care about nobody at all — yet the cause for all of this is somehow, somewhere, ultimately rooted in white society. These black people in the tale couldn’t love themselves or one another because of their envy toward whites, hence the fixation on blue eyes.

In the story, the white people mentioned all appeared to have money, whereas the blacks mostly didn’t. As if that’s the realistic split historically — yes-sirree, all white folks from time immemorial were blessed with money while black folks were not. Yep, that’s totally realistic. Right?  BS. But that’s how she wanted to frame her tale, creating a big divide between what she saw as the Haves and the Have-nots. Typical.

The book’s content was disturbing all unto itself without the added doses of racism toward white folks. Was going to loan it to a guyfriend, but after finishing it and telling him about it he stated he was afraid it might damage his spirit. And I agreed. Not loaning this book out to my friends. Not much good will come from doing so. Black folks who read it may very well accept Toni Morrison’s race-baiting antics without further scrutinizing all the black characters involved, and that’d be a shame. I found it to be more of an indictment of the black community itself rather than anybody else outside of it. Just a showcase of one scoundrel after another, some worse than others, but mostly scoundrels either way. The characters who might’ve proven to be fairly decent were mentioned in only a line or two and then left out of the rest of the story. The spotlight here was shined on these three black girls (Pecola, Claudia and Frieda), and it seemed nearly every adult around them wasn’t worth much of a damn. Hardly in any way conducive toward bringing up healthy, intelligent, competent and confident children. And I struggle to understand how that must be the outside world’s fault when so much control does and always has belonged to parents and families. Poverty alone can’t make people beat and rape their children. Hell, poverty is less likely to occur if one doesn’t drink and/or gamble away most of the money brought into the household!

Just kinda sickened me to read Toni Morrison’s afterword on the subject. Personal responsibility appears to mean to little to her since she’s caught up in this victim narrative and can see little else. Or at least that’s how her words came across to me. She stated this story wasn’t based on her own life but rather is a fictional account of an impoverished black girl (Pecola) who was taken advantage of by everybody, leading to the other two black girls (sisters Claudia and Frieda) who had befriended her to feel embarrassment and shame later in life when reflecting on how they couldn’t help her. But what was their primary concern expressed in the beginning and end of the book? That Pecola’s baby, conceived through rape from her father, had not lived. And that right there did me in. Makes me shake my head and wonder what planet we’re living on when that’s the primary concern here.

When I ordered that book I also ordered Toni Morrison’s Songs of Solomon. Hmm. Will wait a while before cracking that one open.

“Biblical Series II: Genesis 1: Chaos & Order”

Today listening to part 2 of Jordan Peterson’s series on the Bible:

I appreciate his attempt to bring biblical stories back into relevance by examining them through a modern psychological lens. Very interesting stuff.

Looking forward to no longer being a hypocrite

Honestly, another aspect of this recent car accident event in my loved one’s life is how it shines the light back on us. Seriously bugs me that it does, but it does.

I’ve driven while intoxicated on numerous occasions, truth be told. Over the legal limit probably the majority of the time I’ve returned home from a bar outing. Don’t doubt it. As was/is the case for most folks I know who hang out in bars, plus plenty who drink at home and then head out to the grocery store for something or to the gas station or a friend’s house and whatnot. It’s actually quite common. We all know it’s dangerous and wrong and potentially fatal, and yet it goes on all the time. Even among the retirees who hit the bars earlier in the day and then clog up traffic by driving below the speed limit afterward. Or the folks returning from their golf outings — almost always lit up on the course before heading to their favorite watering holes to tie on a few more. I see it going on all the time. Observed it for years here and in other cities I’ve lived in prior.

It’s so common that for some folks I’d venture to say it’s the norm, at least in the evenings once work is completed.

This has always given me mixed feelings where on one hand I don’t wish to acknowledge this fact since so many others like to downplay how frequently they do the same, making me look like one of the supposed few who actually has a problem. Au contraire. Other folks are just better liars, I swear on that. But when I admit it aloud, even among my fellow drinkers whom I’ve watched leave out of bars on countless occasions so drunk I’m surprised they made it out of the parking lot, I’m given the cold shoulder. We’re not supposed to talk about that, at least not unless it involves a funny story. Supposed to all quietly sweep that one under the rug. Or call an Uber if your conscience troubles you. But just do not talk about it.

Well, it gets brought up sometimes, and not always by me but by someone teasing me or somebody else for how messed up we were the night before. It’s a big joke to some folks. And so long as people laugh, such talk is tolerated. Only becomes a problem when someone says “Damn. I’m fucking up. I don’t recall even driving home.” Then we’re either given some dismissive advice about how we maybe should try to drink a little less next time or call a cab or whatever, or we’re just ignored. Ramblings of drunks is all it amounts to. Nobody really seems to care that much in those atmospheres, though some bars do care once they’ve had their liquor licenses threatened.

What I’m getting at here is it matters not whether it’s discussed, it still occurs frequently and across all kinds of people from all different kinds of backgrounds. Middle-class, working-class, all races, both sexes, young, old, middle-aged — you name it. We all somewhere inside fear a wreck or DUI/OWI, yet we still drove ourselves home after drinking time and time and time again. That’s a fact. Even if we feel bad about doing so, we still did so. It’s the norm among many, if not most, drinkers, especially heavy drinkers. Unless they can walk home, but even that decision is usually prompted by already receiving a DUI/OWI in the past.

I do listen to people and observe what’s going on and always have. People tell me plenty, and it’s not hard to see who’s jacked up.

Last year, I ran over a road sign one late night while driving home from a bar. Couldn’t even locate which one I hit either since other people had hit signs that same night so a couple were down and one other was sideways. Yeah, not proud of that. If I could hit a frickin’ road sign, I could’ve hit anything else. Snapped me wide awake when I hit the sign, and yet the next day I could not figure out which one it was. And that was over a year, maybe 1.5 years ago by now. Learned to Uber more for a while there, but eventually I resumed driving myself home. Never had that problem again since, and hadn’t done that before, but the risk was always there.

Do you know how many people do that sort of shit and just don’t like to admit it? Have a look at regular barhounds’ cars sometime and take note of the damaged spots. Much of that is from drunk driving incidents. Sometimes they’ll tell you stories about how it happened if you’re sitting in a bar with them while they’re feeling chatty, but I doubt they’d admit it to the outside world. Because it’s frowned upon. Forces us to reckon with our own poor choices and behaviors, which is a definite downer. Few care to acknowledge these matters openly partly because it’s frickin’ embarrassing. Though in the barscene people do tend to be more open about the times they’ve been nabbed by the cops. Maybe because they perceive that as some sort of injustice, or they know so many others have been in the same situation before and therefore are willing to commiserate over it. I’ve heard countless stories along these lines over time. Always prided myself on being among the seeming few who has never been dealt a DUI/OWI, though that’s been due to luck more than anything else.

Yet I’ve also heard some of these parents chide their adult children WHILE AT THE BAR DRINKING for getting picked up by the cops or damaging their vehicles. As if we’re in any position to talk. We get onto one another for the very same crime we’re guilty of. Seems the logic there is that if we don’t get caught and don’t wreck, then no harm, no foul. I’ve adopted that logic myself on numerous occasions. But still, it’s bugged me over time. Nags and gnaws at me. Kinda makes me feel like a bit of a cretin in society. Forces me to worry about hitting a pedestrian or another car or getting stopped by the cops and winding up jeopardizing my job as a result. Not to mention my finances, or my conscience. Yet when you’re drunk, you don’t care. That’s what alcohol is good for: to make you care less. The next day we might reflect and feel ashamed and/or scared over the ride home the night before, but pour a little more booze in you the next night and you’ll be right back at it again. And again and again.

Caused me to feel like a hypocrite over time. Because I am. How can I worry about college students drinking too much and getting behind the wheel when we older folks aren’t doing much better? Just have more experience under our belts, that’s it. Because we’ve done it more often. Misplaced confidence in our own capabilities while intoxicated.

Feeling like a hypocrite unnerves me. Hard to stake a moral claim on something being wrong and unacceptable when I do it too. And when I hung out in places where practically everybody did it too, nightly. Gotta state it plain.

Looking forward to the future and being free of at least one area in my life where I proved to be a hypocrite. Two weeks (sans one day) and counting…