Sunday, August 15, 2010

Deja Vu – Post #13


Saturday 8/14/10 5:37 P.M.

Washington Square Park, NYC

“Filling my spirit with the wildest wish to fly”

(Peart ‘07)

And so here I am. The Spot.

In 1987, I walked through that arch for the first time and realized declared, “I’m going to live here one day.”

The area, not the park.

That first time was with my big sister. I returned one year later with some friends and sat right here. I clearly remember looking up and thinking how great it would be to live in “that building.” I didn’t know it was the NYU Library. Duh.

Incidentally, next time you come to a party, ask me to tell you about the time I saw a woman have an orgasm from the spout of the fountain. In broad daylight.

Well I finally made it, even if it did take me until I was 39. The space in between wasn’t as much a roller coaster ride, as an up and a down. A couple more years of down and I’d probably be dead or living here.

Right here.

Some of you know this, while most do not: I’m a recovering alcoholic. But, as usual, I am atypical. I’ve done it without AA, I’m not bothered by people drinking in my presence (including at the parties), and I smoke grass.

I’ve lived enough Life to know what my limits are. Weed is the only thing I can do that doesn’t run (and ruin) my life. Cocaine seriously kicked my ass in my late 20s, while drinking consumed me from my early 30s until I was 37. The last couple of years of my drinking career, I was downing a half liter of the cheapest vodka I could find, every night. That happened to be the amount it took for me to pass out.

I drank alone at home, mostly because I could no longer afford to go to the bars. Until that point, however, I was a committed barfly. Usually six out of seven nights. At my Local, I knew all the regulars, all the bartenders, and, by the amount of alcohol I bought, could be counted on to help pay their rent.

At least I was paying someone’s rent.

While I never actually fell on my way home, I did struggle to walk in a straight line. I’m so fortunate I never got hit by a car or mugged. One morning, I woke up flat on my bedroom floor, fully clothed and with shoes, and a gash on my forehead. The TV was turned and leaning precariously, the cabinet and CDs all over the floor.

That was in Hell’s Kitchen in 2004. By ’05, I was Darwinianly ejected from Manhattan and deposited in a gross little bedroom in Midwood, Brooklyn. My roommate drank as much (of the same cheap voddy) as I did. It was, indeed, my Worst Life. I even figured it was the worst life of anyone I knew. I’d managed to hide it pretty well from others for a while, like never having anyone over to see the way I lived, but I was becoming a different person. A mean and very obviously unhappy person.

I’d known for a while that I was an alcoholic, but it was this new tendency to drive people away – I mean people would actually part for me on the sidewalk, like I was crazy – that ultimately gave me the courage to change my shit. I gave up, allowing reality to sink in.

Waking up with the ultimate hangover, after the ultimate night of drinking.

I never blamed anyone else, which helped immensely. I realized that 40 was a-coming and the prospect of waking up on my 40th birthday in that bedroom, in those conditions, was unacceptable. I hated everything about my life. It was stop living or stop drinking.

Most people can go their entire lives without having a problem with alcohol. They can have the occasional glasses of wine, the odd six-pack, or a stiff drink now and again. I am just not one of those people. And when I sometimes wonder about that, I remind myself, “Oh well...that’s life.”

Like when a loved one dies, that’s just the way it is. I cannot have it back.

I realize I’ve got a lot to learn, choices to make, obstacles to overcome, and the responsibility of continuing to live my Best Life. For it’s finally one which I own and love.

And if I continue to live it as affirmatively as I do now, my life will be worthy of the wishes I had all those years ago.

Right here.


On Friday 8/27, we’ll be having the very first $WEET party. It’s a hotness contest where the winner, as anonymously determined by your party peers, will win many monies. Like $150 to $200. Or more. You don’t need to enter the contest to attend the party, but all can vote. Be on the email list to see further details.

This could change everything.


Saturday 8/14/10 11:17 P.M.

The Village Den

Astrology Update...update...update...update...

Last time I wrote, the virgos led, slightly outnumbering the piscessss and the ariessss. That has changed. Now the virgos squarely outnumber those signs, as well as all other signs, at 13%. Cancer is now second at 10%. The average percentage for each sign, by mathematical probability, is 8.5%.

I don’t know if Virgos like sex or group sex more, but they sure do seem to like my parties.

The Örgy Guy

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