It Hunts…

This blog is about my journey to stay sober.

Coming Clean With It

So my dad is in town from Oklahoma. We only see each other once every year or two, but we talk on the phone multiple times per week and are very close. He is my go to when I drunk dial. In fact, I don’t think that I have talked to him sober in years. The funny thing is that though he knows I drink, he had no idea how much…or if he did have an idea he never let on. Given the long, long line of alcoholics in my family he may have known and just decided to keep quiet about it. Anyway, we sat out on the porch talking for a couple hours tonight and I came clean with it. Told him about my drinking and how much of a problem it has been for so many years and how good I felt now. We talked about my uncle who died of cirrhosis of the liver two years ago and my aunt who died of multiple organ failure, caused in no small part to years of heavy drinking,  the year before and it felt really good to proclaim that I would not be going down their paths…and to actually believe it. Right now my father is sleeping in the next room and I am about to lay down and try to get some sleep even though I am teeming with excitement over my sobriety.


Music to get/be sober to…

Make Yourself-Incubus


Hands Open-Snow Patrol

Jamais Vu-Dredg

Eyes Wide Open-Gotye

re:Stacks-Bon Iver


Thirteen Zero Zero-Console

Give Life Back to Music-Daft Punk


Swan Dive-Ani Difranco

Army of Me-Bjork

Euphoria-Bart Davenport

Today-Smashing Pumpkins

Do You Realize?-The Flaming Lips


This list will be added to…


Slow Motion Machine

We have all done this right; you drive up to a place or you walk into a place or you throw a look at someone and just feel or look or feel like you look better than usual and you wish it was all happening in slow motion with the appropriate song playing in the background (mine would be Hollywood Forever Cemetery by Father John Misty). Well that is how my morning was this morning. After a record shattering 7 hours of sleep my son and I rode our bikes to his school to drop him off and as we strode onto those school grounds I wished I had a slow motion machine. We felt pretty awesome and looked even better!

Last night a long sober friend and I were talking about how to stay sober and he said he has a zero tolerance policy in letting his fantasies and obsessions get a foothold and I was thinking how nice it must be to have such confidence. Now given, he has a lot of years behind him and has earned that confidence, but I have made the mistake of getting cocky during my attempts to stop drinking and as a result I have been knocked down and kicked hard, so needless to say I am a little gun shy and stray away from phrases like “zero tolerance policy” when it comes to my sobriety, though I know and appreciate what he means. The only certainty I am willing to proclaim is that I haven’t had a drink in going on 7 days now and am feeling great about it. Now, if I had a slow motion machine and I could slow those moments of frustration or anxiety down and I could watch the words, cursed, leave my mouth and simply grab them and stick them in my pocket along with whatever crisis I am in the middle of and step back in my slow motion and asses the situation then I may have more confidence, but alas, I don’t have a machine like that. All I have is this body and this brain and a fear that is keeping me healthy right now. 

On my way to go fishing this morning I passed a bad wreck on the road. 5 or 6 cars had already stopped and were trying to help and I thought about stopping as well, but all I have is a cell phone to offer and there were plenty in use all around the scene. A white sedan and been hit by a large truck, the results of which looked dire. As I slowly rolled past I could see, through the people milling around, the passenger, an older gentleman, rubbing the shoulder of the driver, whom I assume is/was his wife. I don’t know the results of that wreck but it makes me wonder about motions: turning a wheel, riding a bike, opening a bottle. All of these motions have consequences and slow motion machines don’t exist in reality, so it is up to the us, the machines of this reality, to think carefully before we make them. 

Yet another old writing on the subject at hand…

What The Cartoonist Sees


Meow around my feet

They make noise

But none that I could ever reproduce,

Though I long to.

Gone too far tonight

To think like a cat.

To survive off of milk

And think nothing of that other liquid,

That wicked stuff

That these kittens do not miss.

And I am certain, now

That the cartoonist

Would draw many more lines

Showing a forward motion,

Trailing behind these kittens

Than I have had

Since that age

When I made sounds

That cannot be reproduced.

Around my mothers tit

Where I drank

And was somehow satisfied.

5 Whole Damn Days!

Yowza! 5 days off the sauce. I am exhausted. Very little sleep, a lot of appreciation and a mind that is spinning like crazy. Fishing was good for me today. As my mind is starting to say “hey dude, this whole thing has been fun you know, but isn’t it time we start to get things back to normal”” I am having to start the fight that I knew I would be having sooner rather than later. The fight to not drink, to keep up what I’ve been doing. I kept staring into the woods across the river today, searching for the white tiger. I never did spot it, but I could feel a presence in the early morning fog. It is watching. Waiting. I caught a pretty good mess of small brim today and put them on a stringer in the water and near the end of the day I went to get them and three snakes were feasting on them. I seriously considered grabbing a stick and beating them to death, but they looked pretty poisonous and my cell phone was dying so I said to hell with it. I’m going to give it a try again tomorrow. Things are getting harder. Pressure is building. Snakes are the least of my worries. I’m worried about that thing in the woods. That thing that hunts…

Early morning fishing trip!

Ok, well I got a good 4 hours of sleep last night. Can’t complain about that. Today starts my vacation so I have my fishing gear loaded up and am about to head out to do some fishing for the first time in a long time. It’s funny, my wife and I share a car since I have a work van and we were discussing the logistics of sharing it tomorrow because she has school and I have the day off and it hit me that just a week ago I would have told her to go ahead and use the car because the store is just up the road and they have beer. Wow. I would have wasted my whole damn vacation sitting around here drinking beer. Sad. I’m much happier with the current arrangement. So I will be around the house most of the week and then will be headed to Tennessee this weekend for my brothers wedding. That will be interesting sober. I am sure plentiful stories will abound. OK, it’s time to catch some fish!

In My House

The weather is not good in my house tonight.

A tone of loathing lives in the light bulb,

And when I lay makes my hair a spider on the carpet.

The room that someone else designed

Has become of tomb of what the ideal “us”

Would be if we weren’t us. So lay

Like you sleep and hope I don’t speak.

The light that loathes falls on our dresser,

Drawer handles have eyes that watch

The speakers with suspicion.

I know there is much work to be done,


Sobriety and sex and sex and sobriety and sex!

So my libido is back in full effect after having been MIA for the past 4 days. Maybe my body is telling me that orgasm is at least a nice, small release since I am no longer getting the one that I am accustomed to. How has sobriety effected your sex drive? Is it normal to have these very dry spells or is that just a result of my body concentrating on the task at hand as of recent? The internet has differing views on all this so I figured I would ask you. 

Muahahahaha….it’s morning…

So I got 4.5 hours of restless sleep last night. First the bed, then the couch, then my son’s bed where I finally passed out. Do your legs ever feel like they are full of lightening when you lay down so you try to stretch them as hard as you can over and over hoping to release the energy but dammit, it never does help? Anyway, now I ride upon a sea of coffee and am feeling good, considering.

A poem I wrote long ago about my addiction.

Letter to an Addict


It’s right for me to call you what you are. 
That face that breaks with smiles and frowns, 
Takes the sun in and calls it wisdom. 
They say every time you learn something new 
You get another wrinkle in your brain, 
But it seems that every time you forget something you once knew 
Another crow buries it’s foot in your face. 
And you did, 
You use to know so much, 
Witty and sarcastic and not afraid of this world, 
Your shoulders were iron 
And your lips were as plump and ripe 
As a summer-kissed anything. 
And you loved a little but mostly fucked. 
Loved that you could fuck without love. 
You were what you will never be again. 
Your life now is early bedtimes 
After bitter drinks. 
You sink into the sheets and through the bedsprings. 
Travel places only devils dare. 
And when you wake you stare into the mirror 
Wishing you could write a poem to say 
What this poem has once again failed to say 
And who knows if it will ever be said.

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It Hunts...

This blog is about my journey to stay sober.

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