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A Word From The Dead 'Rehab Romance' The Original Lolita Anti-Christ Posthumously By D N R
In the summer of 2006; they were
offering me a loan. To use however I wanted. You should be able to see trouble
coming like a fucking freight train right about ….now!
I remember
making the phone call to find out about accepting the loan. I got the details.
I hesitated for a micro second. Then I said, “I’ll be there tomorrow!”
I spent the
summer and fall of 2006 drinking and frequenting prostitutes like I never had
before, and stopped taking any medication or continuing with mental health
therapy.
And then I
lost my job, my Mom refused to let me see my kids at her house and it was time
to get help again. Thus, I ended up at the Crisis Center in PoughkeepsieNew York
in late November 2006.
And there
on December 1st, 2006, I would meet Ann.
So I went
into a Crisis Center here in Poughkeepsie, New York. I have a special affinity,
a place in my heart for the program, and I owe them a debt of gratitude. I
still go there for occasional meetings.
It is not a
rehab, a PLACE to RE-HABILITATE; but a place where someone can go to dry out… a
place where you can receive counseling and assistance, and set a plan to move
on to a higher level of care…and hopefully, Rehabilitation…ha!
I had been at
this facility before in 2003; it was the start of my journey to actual Rehab in
January of 2004, but here I was, I needed to be there again in 2006. I was
stuck on stupid, I was obsessed with drinking, and prostitutes, and I was
compelled to do it all over again, re-live the madness, every chance I could,
until the money ran out...and then… all I wanted was to drink...
This time
around was a little different however. In January 2004 I had not been taking
any medicine for my Manic Depression. This time around I knew what to do. I
started taking my medication, they increased the dosage of one medicine and I
started supplementing with another, and I began to feel great mentally and
emotionally very quickly. It was almost Christmas 2006, and I didn’t want to
disappoint my children, I didn’t want to be in “Rehab” again, like I was the
Christmas of 2003, I HAD TO get better, and quickly…
I didn’t
have any insurance, so I couldn’t go to Rehab because I couldn’t pay for it, but
the Crisis Center boss said I could stay until the fog had lifted and I could
go back out into the world. That was all I needed at the time. Or so I thought…HA!
The fog, Dear Sweet Ann, only intensified!
So,
realistically speaking, here’s where I was at.
There is
this thing called Step One in A.A. It says, “We admitted we were powerless over
alcohol, and our lives had become unmanageable.” I always have said “I was powerless
over life and my use of alcohol was unmanageable”. That’s me, always fooling
with things; I have to put my own twist on it.
But to me
it’s true; alcohol was just another thing I wanted to control in my world. The
point then becomes that when you realize alcohol IS running your life, that’s
when you have to admit you are powerless over it. That point I did not get
until sometime in 2009.
I have
always had a reservation; that if I could manage my life I could manage my
alcohol use. No matter what happened or anything else, ANYTHING else; no matter
the price or the consequences, I could do it and have fun. What I failed to
realize was that the alcohol use was the general façade I hid behind, the all
purpose painkiller I could count on, as I struggled with my major issue of self
esteem. This will come up again later in the story, the phrase I have in my
head, “When in doubt, check the fuck out”. No matter what else happened,
alcohol would make it okay.
Then there
is Step 12, “Having had a spiritual awakening, we continued to practice these
principles in all our affairs…”
There was
no spiritual awakening; that was not me, I would never feel or be any
different. To sum it up, it is like the Kate Bush song “The Sensual World”;
that was me then; it is me now, and I know it. Do you know the song? Ever since
I first heard it I identified with it strongly, it summed up my weakness, which
I would not realize for a few years into our story, my endless search for
acceptance and love…and then again, this story is a look and commentary on the
situations in which I thought I’d finally found it…
So I had
tried it, I had tested the waters once again between 2004 and 2006, tried to be
me and enjoy the world I had desired, AGAIN! But no..!.. It’s true, there I was
back in the Crisis Center, I was hurting, I needed to pull my life together,
and I thought drinking was done in my life. The truth is that my reservation
was buried deep in my mind and would wield its substantial influence…
I now
believe in one thing about this program of recovery, that I can’t stress
enough. You will not succeed until you have a spiritual awakening. That’s all.
And for future reference, is a spiritual awakening a moral question, an ethical
question, a religious belief? I love discussing those kinds of things, I’ll
mention it again later in this story, it is relevant…Or is an awakening just
sometimes practical, as in “I’d prefer not to go to jail…so…I have had AN
awakening! (Please read as “Please, stop persecuting me, I’m good…thanks,
GOODBYE..!”) That’s a good one…
So, the
truth is, at the time, I didn’t want to drink anymore, I thought I wouldn’t,
but I didn’t fully understand how profound the need for real actual mental and
emotional change there was needed in all aspects of my life. And the truth is,
I didn’t understand me, not yet, and the reservation I held was all tied up in
it.
So, on
December 1st 2006, I really did want to get my life on track. I
didn’t want to drink. I thought I understood it finally. But I didn’t.
As such, as
usual, I was ripe, ready, and all set, for distraction and diversion.
And I found
it.
I remember
the first time I saw Ann. I remember thinking as I looked at her the first time
in the crisis center, “There’s a new girl here! Wow….!”
I was
floored baby, I was all in from the get go.
Ann is a
beautiful tall thin blonde with striking green eyes, she reminded me of
Elizabeth Montgomery from the old TV show Bewitched, who I always had a crush
on, ever since I was a little kid, so I definitely took notice when I saw her
that first day.
But guess
what? I didn’t pay attention to her. I don’t think I even said hi at first,
even in passing. I was there for a reason, and it was not to get laid! I was
there to concentrate on my recovery! I was thinking about recovery, I was
working it in my mind. I was not concerned about starting a new relationship...if
only because I already had a dysfunctional one! We’ll get to that…
So I wish I
could say it was all immediate attraction, that I cornered her in the laundry
room as she groped for my belt buckle as I French-kissed her, but it’s nothing
as steamy and salacious as that. Nope. I probably said hello eventually and
talked a little at meal or group time.
She told me
later she had noticed me immediately as well, go figure!
The truth
is she began to grow on me. I couldn’t help but look at her, found myself
turning to look at her, looking at her out of the corner of my eye, sneaking a
peek as much and as many times as possible. Hey, recovery is all well and good,
but seriously, I’m a guy, you know?!
So anyway, during
that first week she was there, there was one group time meeting, and the
counselor lady says, “Today we’re going to do something different. Ann is going
to teach us how to make airplanes out of paper, like origami, so you guys, pay
attention.” I’m thinking, NO PROBLEM! Ha-ha.
Just to mention it here, 4 years later, I still
have the paper airplane she
Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. (William S. Burroughs)
I see painting as an evocative magic, and there must always be a random factor in magic, one which must be constantly changed and renewed. (William S. Burroughs)
Nothing exists until or unless it is observed. An artist is making something exist by observing it. And his hope for other people is that they will also make it exist by observing it. I call it 'creative observation.' (William S. Burroughs)
I don't care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. (William S. Burroughs)
I think there are innumerable gods. What we on earth call God is a little tribal God who has made an awful mess. Certainly forces operating through human consciousness control events. (William S. Burroughs)
“Look at these poisonous color maps where flesh trees grow from human sacrifices; listen to these sniggering half-heard words of tenderness and doom from lips spotted with decay”
In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas... a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed. (William S. Burroughs)
In the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. Nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. (William S. Burroughs)
In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas... a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed. (William S. Burroughs)
During this period of his life, Burroughs was seeking a physical utopia, a place where he could live and act as he wanted with interference from neither official state authority nor unofficial moral authority. In fact, he wanted to live in a place where he was out of place and where consequently he would be free.”
This is, no doubt, a unique experience reading, editing and then publishing your dead
friends memoir,
entitled, "Rehab Romance", without first mentioning the significance of our long friendship, good
times and bad, and for the bloody sake of doing it and documenting a story of a dream within a story
of a story. Sort of like a dream in a dream.....so, here goes with a bio interjection and literary
challenge in the search for clarity, truth, and therapeutic relief.
His name is "Bond!" "James Bond!"
"And I'll take that Martini shaken not stirred, Fuckers!" Ha ha haaaaa!
He loved the idea of being a secret agent type, A corrupted Williams Burroughs sort and agent for social change.
An underground guru of the subterraneans and hipsters, amongst our contemporaries. He called us, "The Infra - Red Social Commandos",
A possible name to our Rock band and a speculative term for thought.
On the evening of his last arrest due to having a psychotic lapse in reasoning while DWI and boxed in by New York State Troopers, Bond was unable to proceed down the road. Drunk again! We had plans to get together and jam, working on a few songs we had been compiling to play out live.....(really great jazz guitar music, by the way.)
So this was DWI number seven and he was going to jail, re-hab, and then back to jail. He had never been locked up for any extended period of time on the previous felony DWI's. So, hey, he pulled a real fuckin' doozy and dandy this time and was now destined for prison 'cause of booze......Man, that shit pissed me off.....I told him, that evening, under any uncertain terms, "DO NOT DRIVE DRUNK!" I will pick 'ya up anywhere 'ya are and drive 'ya home no matter what the time is....Okay? He chuckled and said, "Yeah....hahahah, okay......"
One year and a half into his prison sentence, he collapsed and died from a massive heart attack leaving behind two girls and two boys, the youngest being his thirteen year old boy, Hoffman, the good son. Overwhelming anguish, panic, anxiety, darkness and selfish bitterness. I was sad and mad and had all at the same time and devastatingly crushed...."Fuck.....why now?" "Why this?" "Why Bond?"
After all the years of ingesting copious amounts of drugs, alcohol, women, sadness, anger, madness, mayhem and murder.....why now? Fuck! I can only imagine how he felt and how unfair this all seemed to be for his son, Hoffman. I felt the emotional deprivation and pain as to the thought of who would be the one to tell him that his father was dead after being told he was "away on a business trip" or "on vacation" as to hide the ugly and shameful truth of bein' locked up in a hostile and deadly environment all for being drunk and sick from alcoholism.....so sad and upsetting.....real hell of a depressive emotion, knowing how my son and daughters would feel and think or say if that were to happen to me.....god.....just the thought of it makes me cringe and shudder in absolute agony and escape and unresolved anguish.....
I'll be popping in, back and forth to elaborate for the purpose of context and good measure.
As his story develops, you'll learn of his observations of Ann and her daughter, Lolita Anti'Christ.
Ann's family is plagued with rape, incest, the constant threat of beatings and murder, abduction and the sexual exploitation's of their children. Ironically, I presently write these words just across the street from Ann and her family, as I just realized this. So, Hey.....just a reminder, he did state this was a cautionary tail and to only enter at your own risk when dealing with drug-addled maniacs....Ha hahahhahahahaha
Chapter 2 – Dateline: May
20th 2011- A place in time
out…I
decided to pursue this project, this manuscript in March 2011, and it has taken
awhile to gather my thoughts and the abundant notes regarding the I’m typing
this while I can, while I have the chance, time is running events of the last
four years. The truth is I never really thought I would need, want to or would
really write it, certainly not this way. So I have meandered through my
thoughts the last couple months, and I continue to stumble along through the
issues that plague my existence.
The first 14
chapters of this book, like Chapter One, were originally written as a joke, as
a lark, as a keepsake, to amuse my girlfriend…while she was locked up…! I have
had to go through it all, all the old notes, the letters, now that I want to
tell the story, and somehow make sense of it all…I did go through them all, and
then I came back here just to clarify a few things…
I said this
story was supposed to be about a love that could withstand anything; it is now
about my place in life, my pathological behavior, and the inter-twined
psychosis of those people involved, I think that’s the only way to understand
it now; hey, better yet, it’s a love story!
It’s still
difficult for me to understand much of it, why it went the way it went, and how
things happened with someone I cared so much about. The truth is that people
cautioned me against being with the woman I fell in love with, Ann, whatsoever,
starting in January 2007; and that continued through our relationship. And for
me this story eventually became about not wanting to be with her, how I decided
to break up with her, how she asked me to stay with her, and then the details
of how I had an affair that tore us apart.
This is now
a story about my interaction with her, and her whole family, and how
personalities and family dynamics affected the people involved.
The first
thing I have to say is, I wouldn’t want to relive all of these adventures, but
I wouldn’t trade them for anything. That goes for everything that happened,
which by the time I finish this story, may be harder to believe than what
actually happened! I was thinking about this today, about why I’m telling this
story, and I decided that in the end it’s because some stories are just worth
telling because you couldn’t possibly make them up!
Do you know
the band Guster? Awesome band, a lot of great songs, I remember them most for
the song that goes, “Gonna write you a letter, gonna write you a book…” Look it
up on You Tube, there’s an acoustic version that totally rocks! And also to
mention, it will re-surface, how ironic that phrase turns out to be in this
story…This is what I had to do, was to write this book…
My thought
of the day first off however is from one of my favorite old songs, “I love you
more today than yesterday, but only half as much as tomorrow…” I love that
phrase, and Ann and I talked about it more than a few times. I truly
internalize the concepts in music I hear, and this one in particular overwhelms
me, always has, always will: If I love you THIS much today, then wow, that’s a
lot; but if it’s only HALF as much as tomorrow, wow, that’s a lot MORE!
But…that’s only half as much as the next DAY!
WOW! But, that’s only half as much as the NEXT
day! WOW! Ha-ha…
Its ideas,
concepts like that, which I enjoy, especially the rush of raw emotional
intensity I find in song lyrics…
Regarding
that particular phrase, that is the truth as well, I miss my sweetheart so
much, so much more every day, and the only way to say it is to write this book…
Which brings
us to our next song…”One Headlight” by the Wallflowers. How important this was,
especially that first summer together of 2007. Do you know the lyrics? “Me and
Cinderella, put it all together, we can drive it home, with one headlight…”
That’s the
catchy chorus, but the big part of the song for me these days is “that’s when
they say I lost my only friend; well they say she died easy of a broken heart
disease, as I listened through the cemetery trees…”
I don’t
know how she thinks of it now, but today that is me, dying slowly of a broken
heart, this clutch at my throat that tears down through my left side, and over
and through my heart, so I’ll write this to keep my mind off of it for now…
So one more
song for today, for now, from Eve 6, what a great band, their song was
“Beautiful Oblivion”, right? “Put my tender heart in a blender, rendezvous then
I’m through with you…” That will come back in the story as well…
Ooops, one
more, do you know the band Pierce the Veil? There’s this song, “Caraphernelia”,
I fell in love with this song, it’s still number 3 on the list of all the songs
about this story, and I remember when I didn’t know it, and the first time I
heard these lines were from my sweetheart, I can still see her saying it, see
her face in my head; it’s got the lines, “What’s so good about picking up the
pieces, what if I don’t wanna?! I just can’t forget you!” That suits me pretty
well right now also…and that will come back as well…
I was
talking with my new A.A. sponsor Brian yesterday; he agrees that this will
surely drive me mad if I don’t deal with it. I have mentioned to people that as
much as this whole saga is so personal, so many issues involved, so many
ramifications of discussing it, I am the kind of person who cannot LIVE without
talking about it. It will kill me.
I was
talking with my good friend Adele the other day, discussing our shared history,
she is the one I can say ANYTHING to, and she knows everything, it’s a line
from a new song I am composing, I started it in January 2011, “the secrets we
can’t keep and the ones we’ll never tell…”
I was
saying to her that my life had been a series of adventures, and I realized that
as I kept having adventures, two things were happening. First, I would
practically decimate my resources, and then I would try to regroup and rebuild,
but never really restock sufficiently. Then my next adventure would begin
somewhat prematurely, usually without proper planning or well thought out
plans, and eventually it would end the same…Do that a couple times and guess what?
You end up where I am NOW! Ha-ha.
I try to laugh and keep perspective on this but it’s true. As I was saying to
Brian yesterday, how I do love phrases, that I put all my eggs in one basket
every time I start out again, and then, disaster strikes.
Envision
this: I can see myself, I’m like a human “Thumper”, my nickname, bounding
merrily through life with my little Easter basket, precariously hurling myself
into the abyss of the future, into the void, not thinking there are obstacles
or challenges to be met, just avoiding real life issues that I jovially dismiss
and evade; but the eggs in the basket have names, they are those issues: like
“Relationships”, “Love”, “Trust”, how about “Career”, “Money in the bank”, and
my favorite, “Car”..! So as I cavort along, the eggs start to smash, and ooze,
and leech into each other, and the issues putrefy, and I become the sick little
rabbit festering in my own toxic brew…
Looking at
the last four years now, I can see that I’ve done what I’ve wanted to do in
life; I really don’t care about doing anything else, there’s nothing driving me
on except to maybe have the chance to say I’m sorry and make up for it…Which
brings up the realization that I’m at the point where I’m not poised to do much
of anything else right now anyway..!
That brings
up something I heard recently in A.A. The “definition” of “potential” was that
you are not doing what you should be doing in life. It’s so true! All right,
if, if I have a true calling at this point, it may just to be, if nothing else,
a loving figure in my children’s lives, and even that is conflicted because of
this whole story…
Which
brings up another key theme: I am a relationship junkie. Adele and I were
talking about this, when I talked to her on Valentine’s Day 2011, I am indeed addicted
to infatuation. Even now, as it was pointed out to me, there are a lot of great
men and women in my life, and people who know how great I can be, they want to
see me in a happy and wholesome and fulfilling relationship, …but when I think
about it, I know people cannot see it right now the way I see it, and I don’t
let many people see all of it…
All my eggs
were in one basket starting in December 2006; life now is in severe disarray, I
am now 48, I have a terrible low paying job, I live with my mother, and…I have
no car! Forget relationships, I can’t even look for a better job because I
wouldn’t be able to get there! I can’t arrange musical projects, I can’t there!
And then the ever present, looming issue, the question I dread, that makes me
feel I should not even try to start over with someone, imagine if you were me,
and someone was interested in you, and they ask, “So, what have you been DOING
THE LAST FEW YEARS?!” Shoot me now, man! Or as Ann would say wearily, or in
exasperation, or in disgust and dismay, or, sometimes laughing, “…my life..!”
So I had to
re-write, add to, this particular chapter for one particular reason. I figured
it would make sense and shed light on how I did what I did the last 4 years.
I didn’t
figure this out until the summer of 2009 when I was a year and a half sober
finally.
This is my
issue in life: When I was 13, my family moved from Rochester, New York to my
Father’s hometown of Red Hook, New York. I was tall for my age, and I had
terrible acne, and a severe under-bite. I was teased mercilessly. This would
become the defining topic of my teenage years and shape my personality even up
to this day.
I hated the
world. I internalized it, I embraced that hatred. I decided I would do whatever
I wanted in life to make myself happy. That’s how I conducted my life from age
13 on. That began my never ending search for acceptance, love, and
companionship. I still just hate being alone. And I really did decide that when
I had to, I would do anything and everything I wanted or needed to do to be
“happy” in life. That was my general feeling about everything. Unfortunately,
that proved to be selfish and hurtful to others. The other lesson I learned
from that, just recently, is that sometimes it’s not what you do, but how your
actions can be perceived and misconstrued. That ultimately is what has been
most hurtful in this story.
The other
side of the story is about sex. When I was young, 10 or 11 years old, my older
cousins always had copies of Penthouse magazine around, and I was fascinated by
the Letters to Penthouse. Remember in the movie Splash, the character played by
John Candy says to Tom Hanks, “Look, they printed my letter to Penthouse, ‘Lesbian
no more’!” I figured that would be what I got to look forward to in life, all
kinds of crazy, fun sex.
But the
other side of sex was my own feelings about it, part moral, and part ethical. I
am the hapless, helpless, hopeless romantic idealist; I’ve been that way since
I can remember, very young; and I’m very shy, it’s my self esteem and self
image that I battle with, still.
Also, I was
taught by my parents, or basically got the idea from them, that you shouldn’t
or weren’t supposed to have sex until you were married. So there was a
contradictory dynamic at work; on one hand I was supposed to be a boy, a young
man, a grown man, and be proud and boastful about sexual exploits especially in
the world of men; on the other hand as a young man I felt guilty…
My story really
is that the few times I had sex as a teen I was ashamed about how and who it
happened with. I didn’t want sex so much as I wanted to kiss someone I loved,
and to “make love”; for example, I love to kiss and “make-out”, it sounds
stupid, but, to me, it’s hot, ha-ha…But again, the other side of that is lust,
and I am not proud of a considerable amount of my behavior towards women in my
life that genuinely cared for me. I have come to terms with it to some extent,
at any point in my story there were the times I really tried to be the best
person and partner I could be. That will be discussed at length, the concept of
“Being the best person you can be in the lives of people you care about”;
again, that’s why I’m writing this, this love letter, this apology…
At my one
year sober celebration in February 2009, a guy who spoke for me that night gave
me a card, it had quotes about sobriety on it, and one of them said “The Seven
deadly Sins: Lust, Anger, Sloth, Envy, Pride, Greed, Gluttony, Lust”. It’s no
accident Lust is mentioned twice, that it’s first and last, and it stuck in my
head, it is my story, that card is still one of my prized possessions, I keep
it with me always…
A large
part of what I talk about with my therapists, my sponsor in A.A., at A.A.
meetings, is about seeing the “Patterns” of behavior, about striving to
recognize situations and consistently make better decisions. Now in 2011, that
has never been truer. My main issue though is still companionship, and I’m
working on it…
I’ll make a
joke about dealing with issues: I was saying to my sponsor that at least I know
I have a screw loose, I know which one it is, and I’m trying to tighten it up;
either that or the screw is stripped and I am utterly “screwed”…I think it’s
funny…
People generally don’t talk about
their sex lives with many people, maybe close friends or confidantes. For the
purposes of this story I am going to. So here’s the deal: I have a lingerie
fetish, I would rather see and make love to a woman wearing clothes, lingerie,
panties or a bra than a woman totally naked; as far as porn goes I would rather
see a striptease than a hardcore fuck scene. That’s just me.
A large
part of this story involves a concept I came up with for my second book I
wrote, that no-one’s happiness should come at another’s expense. In regards to
sex, consenting adults are free to do what they want to be happy. Some people
get off on power and wicked fantasy and role play, and that’s all well and good
as long as everybody’s into it; but I am secure in my feelings that things like
rape and incest are just wrong and so terribly hurtful the way they fuck up
people’s heads that it cannot be condoned whatsoever; even if you can
“understand” or “see” how it happened…
For the
purposes of this story, when we finally catch up to the present, I was talking
with my sponsor Brian about my personal feelings that I was one traumatic event
away from being a real monster in life. The idea that lust so totally rules
someone’s nature, and makes things like stalking and rape and murder an option
for people is abhorrent. On the other hand, I find it fascinating; I’m in love
with how things happen, the details of how events transpire, and how pathology
of any type manifests itself. That will be a consistent theme in our story!
For
example, there was a series of Prostitute murders many years ago in Rochester, New
York. One of the victims was a girl I went to school
with. I remember she was a sad, lonely, reclusive girl, a pale blonde wisp of a
girl; she lived across the street from me, a half block down from my house with
her mother, in a house that always had all the shades down. She always walked
home alone. It hurt me when I found out she had been killed.
As far as
masturbation goes, people just don’t talk about that! I remember seeing a movie
a long time ago, I can’t remember what it was, and the guy says to his guy
friends, something like, “Aw come on, who masturbated today?” And he raises his
hand, and all the other guys reluctantly raised their hands slowly…So anyway,
for my sweetheart, I’m proud to say that I’d be glad to spank one out for you
right now, so there you go baby, thanks for the new pictures! But I’m busy
writing this, so maybe next time…
A large
part of my life has been about using humor to deflect facing or dealing with my
emotions, as well as using it to my advantage to entertain. So part of this
story is about the dual nature of being a caring sensitive man in this world, and
part of it is the sophomoric humor I still enjoy, the kind of jokes boys and
men say to each other. Like I said to someone about the cultural phenomena we
know as Facebook, “Hey, if people don’t like it, too fucking bad, I’m a very
diverse person..!”
The other
part of this story is the irony and ironic nature of events, the twists of fate
that took place, the symbolism I attached to events as they transpired. At one
time in our relationship Ann loved that I remembered so many details about what
happened in our lives together, and whether she will appreciate that as much
now, I’m thinking…NO…
For
example, just recently at work, I sell reference books for a living, and I am
involved in a court proceeding, I was representing a book that I had to call
colleges about and ask for the department of “Criminal Justice”. I think that’s
ironic and funny…I found myself slipping, instead of asking for the Department
of “Criminal Justice” I started saying “Criminal Adjustments”…ha-ha…
For
example, I had to call someone about a book the other day; his name was “Mr.
Udogu”. That should be my name, or maybe “Mr. Upigu”. That’s funny…or not,
depending who you are in this story..!
For the
purposes of understanding this story, I thought I should write a little more
about myself here, include some of the details that framed me in Ann’s life,
and the particular things about my character that made all this possible; these
are the basics about me…
My Mom is
brilliant, she was valedictorian of her high school class, class President, in
High School and College, and became a Kindergarten Teacher. She loves classical
music and jazz, and always played it in our home when I was growing up.
My Father
was a Fine Art major in college, graduated from RIT in Rochester New York, and
was I believe Manic-Depressive; and eventually he was an alcoholic drinker. He
loved music as well.
I have a
younger brother, brilliant, who graduated from Brown University, and became a
Lawyer. He and I share similar tastes in music…
I had a
great childhood up until age 12 when we moved from Rochester to Millbrook New
York, but I do remember my childhood fondly. There were my cousins, and
friends, and Little League, and Cub Scouts, and I loved life.
High School…to
sum it up, I hated it… One song I have always thought about, about High School,
its Tom Petty’s “You Wreck Me”, with the line, “I’ll be the boy in the corduroy
pants, you be the girl at the High School dance…” Anyway, I did well
scholastically when I wanted to, I did really well on my SAT scores, but I
dropped out when I was a senior to chase a girl named Adele…I was the black
sheep of the family…
I married
young because I got a girl pregnant, I hated my marriage, and eventually
separated from her, right at the time I began to get help for my Bi Polar
disorder.
I did have
a career once…
That’s the
basics about my life…
My Mother
has always believed she could help me, and with her support I am still trying
to work my life out. Because of that I have a place to live currently, which
will come up again repeatedly through this story.
The other
characteristic of my psychological make-up is that I am a “collector”; call it
what you will, I’m a saver, a scrap-booker, a documenter. I have a tendency to
save specific items that mean something to me however trivial they might be.
This is a trait in the family; I have in 3 or 4 volumes over 50 years of
diaries from my Great Grandfather’s life. It is no surprise to me that I kept notes
as I went along regarding this story! My Father was a photographer, he was the
same way; I may never have time to look at all the family pictures he took
documenting my brother’s and my youth. Photography and documentation will come
up in the story again as well..!
The other
aspect of my life is my attachment to music. I do believe it is a pathological
phenomena, it is peculiar to me, how intensely I internalize music; you may
have noticed this by now…It has gotten worse as time goes on in one way or another,
even up until this day…and I love it and can’t stop…
The other
thing about me is that the older I become in age, the younger I am becoming
again as a person…I don’t know what to say or do about it, it’s partly because
of the music; it makes sense to me, but in the world I’m not sure what it
means…I will provide examples, ha-ha…
In April
2011 I finally got back into counseling, and the woman who did the clinical
intake made the remark, “Well, you definitely need therapy…did you really think
starting a relationship in a Crisis Center was a good idea?!” There is a line
from the movie, “Little Children”, where the one character is masturbating with
a pair of panties over his face, and the narrator says something like “…but the
heart wants what the heart wants…”
So I am
going to tell this story about what I wanted, and still want. Friends who know
the story have suggested different themes; one said I should make it just a
comedy; but there’s too many dark and disturbing themes. One said write it as a
screenplay for a movie or as a stage play; it’s not how I think, to write that
way, but that will be part of the story. I would also like to see this as an
interactive book with 5 music CD’s from all the various genres mentioned that
people could listen to as they read the story, I’d love to do that…but I’m nuts,
so, anyway, whatever..!
I met a
girl named Ann on December 1st
2006, our Anniversary. I didn’t start writing about it until
January 2008. I was highly unaware at the time of how terribly messed up my thinking
was in general, but then again I had just lived through 2007 with Ann, which
we’ll cover in a bit! So the next 12 chapters were written in 2008 about the
previous year, and they tell the story of how we came together and why…The
following material was originally sent to her while she was in a facility, it
was written for her alone, and for her enjoyment only, it was never meant to be
presented this way… I wrote it at a time when I really believed we were okay,
and we were going to work things out… I wrote it at a time when I saw the world
and my place in it very differently… I look back at it now and laugh, I was so
wonderfully in love and terribly demented…the theme song that was so much a
part of our lives in 2007 is ironically so relevant again now as well, so I
kept this little chapter here, it’s “Crazy” Gnarls Barkley…
Originally written in 2008, reflecting the origin of
this story from December 1st
2006, this chapter has been updated to reflect the return of the
author to this particular time period in his life…
Hey there! Thanks
for tuning in to today’s show! That’s what life is to me, “Today’s Show”…can’t you
just see me up there with a microphone, “Heyyyy….!” And the classic line, “But
seriously folks”…
So, I came
up with this idea, wouldn’t it be a great idea for a maniac to write a book
about a maniac writing a book…What do you think, can I make any money from
it..?.. That’s right, that’s me, and this is the second book within a book, the
first book is called “Dear Diary, Daddy was a maniac…but I still MISS him…!” I
think that’s a good title, I like it!
So, I wrote
a book in 2004 and I’m in the process of editing it. The book is about my life,
my marriage, my kids, substance abuse, and finding out that I suffer from Manic
Depression. I began a journal, open letters to my wife that I emailed her as I
finished them. Some were short pieces; some were longer and took a while to
write. There was no particular rhyme or reason, I wrote about what I thought
about as I felt like it. For me it was cathartic, and a chance to discuss the
issues surrounding my day to day existence. I used the writing as a means to
discuss my life, and how I had become the person I had been in the marriage. It
gradually took shape as a book, and I continue to work on it.
So, let’s
examine a few of those statements a little more closely.
A maniac; I
do consider myself a maniac. I am what I call emotionally insane. My therapist
hates when I say that. But it is the only way I can describe it. I never grew
up, I never learned to connect the dots, and I never learned to rationalize
positively to figure out situations appropriately. I WILL provide examples!
This
doesn’t mean it isn’t treatable, doesn’t mean I’m a psychopath, more of a
sociopath; thank you very not fucking much! But seriously, I’m fine when I
don’t use, or in my case, abuse substances; and I’ve got a lot of great
supportive people in my life, and for that I can’t thank them enough. People
think I’m a good guy when I’m sober, and I know I’m doing whatever it takes to
have a great life; as a matter of fact I feel excellent.
…about a
maniac; yes, I am a maniac. I do take medicine for the Manic Depression; the
other day my girlfriend says, “You don’t need that medicine, you’re not crazy…”
You know that song by Gnarls Barkley that goes, “Maybe I’m crazy…!” I walk
around all day sometimes singing that, just nuts..! I told a friend of mine in
my twelve step program, A.A., I take medicine and I’m still like this! Between
the guitars in my head and my voice that I hear, always giving me ideas, uh,
you think….? Maybe…?! I told my therapist “Maybe I’m crazy” should not be your
theme song in life! I told her, yes, I DO hear that in my head all day. She was
like, “Really?”, and she looked at me, in that oddly and quizzically professional
investigative way, as if to say, “Do you really sing that in your head all
day?” and I was thinking to myself, “No, I make this shit up so you’ll be
amused by me you fucking cunt, and now please bend over and touch your ankles!”
But, I just looked at her for a moment, and exhaled a weary, heavy sigh of
disillusionment… and stopped thinking about whether she was wearing a thong,
and said, “Yes…”
…writing a
book; so this is the story of either how I almost got what I wanted, or how
maybe, possibly, against all odds and my hope of hopes, finally, for once, even
though I’m almost too afraid to again let myself want it so badly…I got what I
WANTED! It was a big part of my life at one time (Hi Sweetheart) the movie
“Against All Odds”, remember that? Remember the steamy sex scenes?! The car
chase?! How about “How can you just walk away from ME…” Those lyrics, when she
let me go, that was it, forever, until…oh…we’ll get to it..!
That is me
then and now, the story of being a JACKASS about my emotions and the only girl
I have ever loved this much. It’s the story of becoming a person who can deal
with a relationship. It’s the story of a maniac rebuilding his life after
almost completely destroying it.
This story
is actually being written as we speak.
Hi Honey, I
miss you, I love you, I’m always thinking of you! I love you, I miss you, I
exist just to kiss you! This is where you throw in the back-beat to Tone Loc’s
“Wild Thing”, right?! Remember the video? He does a take-off of another
extremely pertinent song and concept that I have always addressed in my life
and relationships, Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love”, all the hot women
posing, “playing guitar”; or as I call the concept, “Addicted to Infatuation”.
So, the back-beat in my head, always, even right now, and especially looking at
you, you fine thing, you; that would be the “Bump de bump bump, de bump bump,
Wild thing!” Most of all, it is the story of a Rehab Romance, and the girl I’m
in love with.
