I just wrote a piece called Depression in Two Parts. I stuck it in the Vault. That’s what I call the buried folder on my hard drive where revealing essays go to die. The ones I don’t want to post. The ones that aren’t about me. DITP is about family. And friends (ex-friends) and emotions. … Continue reading Post-Thanksgiving, Hungover
Substance Abuse
Kids Need to Party
Lynchburg, Virginia, 1983—An intersection: Liberty Baptist College, Lynchburg College, Jerry Falwell and me. Here’s a fun fact: Liberty and Lynchburg have both become universities. I’m not really sure what turns a college into a university. Obviously, I could look it up, but then I’d have nothing but white space where these two sentences now stand. … Continue reading Kids Need to Party
Pray for Mike
We took pills, Mike and me. Lots of them. Mike took Darvon, an opioid. He found a giant plastic bottle in his Grandmother’s linen closet, one thousand pills. She used to be a nurse. He brought them back to college, took them by the fistful. I took speeders. Caffeine pills. I had big plastic bottles, … Continue reading Pray for Mike
My Hungover Weekend
Once upon a time, I spent my weekends sick. Sick during the days, but not at night. The nights I spent drunk. My mornings started early. Saturday and Sunday, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. Maybe not early by today’s standards—I’m up at five each day during the week—but eight A.M. is early when you get to … Continue reading My Hungover Weekend
The Loneliness of Hearing Loss
Let’s be clear. I’m not deaf. It’s true I can’t function without hearing aids, but only when I want to talk with someone. And rarely do I want to talk with someone. Except of course my family, which is a problem because the time I’m most likely to go without hearing aids is at home. … Continue reading The Loneliness of Hearing Loss
The Brickskeller
On January 17, 1991, the United States Navy bombed the holy-hell out of Iraq. For the first time in eighteen years, the U.S. was at war. My response? I went out drinking. DCs premier beer-bar, the Brickskeller, hosted a tasting of Bell’s Third Coast Beer that night. As I primped for my evening out, the … Continue reading The Brickskeller
WordPress, Facebook, Twitter
I’ve got this routine. WordPress, Facebook, Twitter. I do this slowly, wanting to savor the alerts. The WordPress red dot, the numbers in the Facebook and Twitter bells. These are my social media. No Instagram, that’s where my kids hang out. I don’t want to crash their party. I do it again. WordPress, Facebook, Twitter. … Continue reading WordPress, Facebook, Twitter
Caffeinated #2
On Saturday morning my head pounds the rhythm of my pulse an alarm clock alerting me that the time to start drinking coffee has already passed. Also: Caffeinated
Dry. Part 2.
Dry. It really sucks. Dry, meaning alcohol free, it’s miserable. At least it is for me. Lots of us (dry people) use the euphemism sober. It sounds adult, more mature. I don’t call myself sober because of what it implies, which is: not drunk. It’s not that I’m not not drunk, it’s just that before, … Continue reading Dry. Part 2.
Blackouts
Like everyone else, I’m writing about the Kavanaugh hearing. But because I’m self-centered, I’m really writing about myself. I’ve barely paid attention to this news cycle. I don’t have cable TV. I never watch videos on news websites, and I only spend a few minutes each day listening to the radio. Almost everything I know … Continue reading Blackouts
(Flash) Natural order of things
Me, in his office: defensive, insecure. Him behind his desk: Disapproving, judgmental. “You’ll quit drinking,” he says. Not a suggestion, not a request. A declaration. An intervention. “I’m only here for my meds, my antidepressants.” Medication management, no prescription without a discussion. Power of suggestion? Voodoo? A good read of character? Yes, he was right. … Continue reading (Flash) Natural order of things
Crest the Hill
I’m certain this is bad mojo, Dunston isn’t dead. But it’s probably the nicest thing I can offer a person. I don’t communicate well. When people ask my opinion, it comes out combative, abrupt. When I give a compliment, I unintentionally balance some bad with the good. It’s only when I can sit at a … Continue reading Crest the Hill
Another One Bites the Dust
Thump, Thump, Thump, Pap, Another one bites the dust. Thump, Thump, Thump, Pap, Another one bites the dust. This was the biggest song of the year when I was a college freshman—1980-1981. This statistic is backed up by billboard charting, but really, you simply needed to be in a college dormitory to know this fact. … Continue reading Another One Bites the Dust
Buzz, revisited
Last week, I posted a story, Buzz, that paints a picture of drug use. It wasn’t encouraging or cautionary. It offered no opinion. It was simply a snapshot, a vivid scene featuring four intoxicated teens. It went nowhere. Stats-wise, it was my worst performing story in a year. Thirty page-views, two commenters, not so many likes. … Continue reading Buzz, revisited
Buzz
The four of us huddle in the dorm room, lights low, a single candle burns on the coffee table. The candle sits in a mountain of wax covering what was simply a Budweiser bottle just a few hours ago. Each of us digs at the candle, at the wax-mound, with glowing hot paperclips. Heat the … Continue reading Buzz
About Death
Two scenarios; contradictory, and neither is true: Michael Weeks at forty-two years old: he spends his evenings in the company of his wife, his children and his dogs. He’s fulfilled by his career; his relationships are enduring; his hobbies, rewarding. He’s rarely sick. In total, he’s content. Or… Michael Weeks at forty-two: he’s divorced and … Continue reading About Death
Jenn, Lance & Me
6/20/2015 Jenn Shelton keeps popping up in my life. You might be thinking "Who's Jenn Shelton?" She's a minor celebrity. A world-class ultra-marathon runner and a pretty good writer. She had a bit part in Christopher McDougall's massively bestselling Born to Run. Mostly as comic relief. The book made it seem like when she wasn't … Continue reading Jenn, Lance & Me
Olivia’s
Dinnertime: Family conversation. Out of nowhere, Sophie announces her career change: “I’m going to get a job at Olivia’s.” My first response: “Who’s going to drive you to Olivia’s every night?” Sophie already has a job. She’s a babysitter at the Y. When parents with young children come in to exercise, Sophie’s the girl who … Continue reading Olivia’s
I miss…
Intellectual bathroom graffiti: I F*@KED YOUR MOTHER! Directly beneath this gem, in a different pen, a different hand: GO HOME DAD, YOU”RE DRUNK! I’d like to stop right there. A flash-post. Call it done. Flash what? Not fiction. This one is real. On the bathroom wall of the Tune Inn, circa 1986. Every time I … Continue reading I miss…
A new me
The drinker who doesn’t drink. That’s me. I quit eighteen months ago. No backsliding, no cheating. Once I got through the first few months, it hasn’t really been that bad. I have Tourettes Syndrome. But you’d never know it. My tics are fully in control. Effectively medicated with no obvious side-effects. As an added bonus, … Continue reading A new me
