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
Substance Abuse
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
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 … Continue reading About Death
Jenn, Lance & Me
I feel like someone has stolen my baby… or at least my cat… or something… something important that I don’t want stolen. Two and a half years ago I published a story on the Runner’s World blogsite, the Loop. This is far less impressive than it sounds. Anyone with an account could post there, and … 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
Whitey and the Riff Raff
In 1983, my college dorm room was an important meeting place. Monday through Friday at 3:00, my roommate and four or five of our friends would gather to watch General Hospital. I write this in a way that implies zero involvement from me. But that’s only partially true. I rarely settled in to watch GH, but … Continue reading Whitey and the Riff Raff
“Hey, I should warn you, Charlene has googly eyes.” “What does that mean?” They pop way out, like on a frog… or a bug.” “Um, thanks for the warning.” At the start of my career, I worked for a Fortune 500 defense contractor called TRW. One company, 30,000 employees. In an effort to maintain a … Continue reading Google
Dying with Gilda Radner
One year since publishing Fragments. My favorite story from the book. As an adult, I reinvented myself. Naturally bookish and wry, and a big drinker for years, I became an athlete as well. Fitness and endurance sports. Confident, funny, and carefree. Always on the move, distracted, numb. No opportunity, no reason to revisit the past. … Continue reading Dying with Gilda Radner
Pornography
Published one year ago this week in my memoir Fragments. My mother's birthday was last week. I totally forgot. Percussive. Dark, haunting, haunted. Repetitive, chromatic – evoking angst, possibly fear. Lyrics shouted from a distance, from the bottom of a ravine. Echoing, urgent. Chanting, mumbling, confusion. Chest tight, stomach in knots. Eight complex songs, each … Continue reading Pornography
Drugs
Monday morning at 7:00AM: I’m sitting down to write. I’ve read the news, stretched my body, done my part in getting my kids on their school bus, and made myself presentable for work. It’s been a productive morning. Over the weekend, I seamlessly traded off between chores, exercise, reading, errands, volunteer work and spending time … Continue reading Drugs
Caffeinated
7:15 on Tuesday morning. Not a specific Tuesday morning, but any Tuesday morning. My laptop’s on my lap, and my coffee is next to me on a coaster. Printed on that coaster is “Hold me closer, Tony Danza.” It’s a gift from a friend who enjoyed my essay “Dewey Finn and the Dunder Chief” in … Continue reading Caffeinated
Carrie & George
Today, I’m revisiting a topic I wrote about over two years ago… I’m even starting with the same sentence: http://undercrust.blogspot.com/2014/11/pre-apocalypse.html I’m going to live forever. Ask my kids, they’ll tell you. They’ve been hearing about it for years. Immortality is my mantra; something I talk about constantly. For the past ten years, I’ve been boasting … Continue reading Carrie & George
My Day Off
It’s Monday, so I must be depressed. When I was a kid (and by kid, I mean in my twenties) Sunday nights were rock bottom. My weekends went like this: Thursday: at work, a rush of anticipation. Thursday night: always a big party—enter a dance club early, 9:00ish, still mostly empty. Stay until closing, alternating … Continue reading My Day Off
The Hard Days
I had my last drink almost eleven months ago; I quit somewhere in the middle of last January. But I’m not sure exactly when. And yes, it’s ridiculous that I don’t know the date. I thought I did, but two or three weeks after I quit, I couldn’t remember if it was two or three … Continue reading The Hard Days
Never again
Saturday at noon: “Jeff, go grab a beer.” “Hey Jeff, can I pour you a mug?” “Get a glass; you deserve a cold one.” This was a few minutes after I finished a 15K. I heard the same thing after a June marathon, a September 10K, the other day at work. “Jeff drop by tonight, … Continue reading Never again
