delicioustacos

I used to drink every day by myself. I’ve been sober ten years. I did it by going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Helping others stay sober. Working the 12 steps with my sponsor. It’s the best thing I ever did. You should do it too. God is real.

What else. I don’t think about sobriety anymore. It’s not a struggle. I like being sober.

But I gotta write something for it. Like I had to put on the same gay outfit as my brothers and pose for my stepmom’s Christmas card. A special occasion. Gotta go take cakes at meetings per my sponsor’s direction. Tell other alcoholics how I did it. Continue reading →

I feel connected, at peace, unafraid of the future, of death, of whatever might happen. I feel relieved of guilt and anxiety. I feel like I’m an organism in nature just playing my role. A creature putting my song into the world, like the birds. Helping people when I can. Forgiven for my sins. I feel like I’m the way God made me and that’s enough.

I feel like I’m doing OK. Ways I fucked up were just part of the process. I’m part of the machine of creation. Just an atom. No better or worse than other atoms. Not a uniquely fucked up or malicious atom. I’m not bad at being a person any more than a mockingbird can be bad at being a mockingbird. It just is what it is, does what it does, according to how it was made. I feel like I’m part of something.

After I moved into my place in Echo Park, back when I was getting wasted every day, I got license plates in the mail. They belonged to the guy who’d moved out. I knew my landlady would know where he went. And I should say something. But I didn’t. I kept them. Because what if I need these plates. If I get in trouble for my crimes, I can put them on my 1979 Mercedes S Class. Leave town. They’ll think it’s another guy driving Idi Amin’s car. Continue reading →

Sure. But that’s not what I worry about. I felt like an old loser at 22. Of course I look back now, see a picture of myself– I look like a baby. I feel like an old loser now. When I look back at 65 I’ll laugh at how stupid I was. I know this. Knowing this does nothing. It doesn’t help at all. But then hearing it from you doesn’t hurt. It does nothing. I hope it helps you. But you’ll wake up tomorrow needing to leave mean comments. I’ll wake up feeling like an old loser. It’s just genetic. Continue reading →