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
Substance Abuse
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
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
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
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
