There was a time that I loved bicycling. During my 20s through mid-30s, I pedaled around the beach town on a swanky old cruiser, bumped up and down some of the gnarliest singletrack around and occasionally commuted to work on two wheels. Like many who ride bicycles, I rode for recreation and to reduce my … Continue reading Recreational chore
It has never been my intention to write exclusively about my personal problems. That’s what the hell journals are for. Nor, do I have the burning desire to ramble along the well-traveled path of self-awareness/healing blogs or memoir diaries, because, quite frankly, I don’t feel like sharing my war stories. If you knew me 20 … Continue reading Co-occurring Chaos
About two years ago, my girlfriend, Cathy, suddenly passed away. The choir of family and loved ones—she had many—all were shocked and dismayed as to the what-and-why that led to her death. Just how in the hell do you explain major depression or other mental illness to someone who doesn’t have a clue? It was … Continue reading Predestined to Greatness
The burnt-out war stories are etched on the weathered faces of the other men and women who line up daily for chapel service followed by a meal: Living in the shadows of alleyways shooting heroin or pulling tricks in a car for another bag of whatever; or hiding behind the curtains of a run-down smoke-filled motel room, while nervously pacing back-and-forth for that plastic pint of vodka that tastes a notch above turpentine (hoping there’s at least a gulp left to stop the terrifying fucking shakes). Those are not examples of how well-adjusted people live.
Shall I give up all hope and simply dwell upon the inevitable—that I have completely ruined my life and have no hope for redemption? Quite frankly, the suggestion is a daily struggle for me. What if, today, I consider the pint of whatever half full, as opposed to half gone?
Why is it that Cathy and I-like millions of others- have to live a fucking life never knowing how miserable we're gonna feel when we wake up? Some days, there’s hope; other’s its sheer agony getting out of bed. To take this a step further, why do so many of that millions—excluding Cathy—think that they can quiet the internal monster with booze or drugs, knowing perfectly well that only makes matters worse?
TV sucks these days; let’s face it. Thanks to the input from that tyrannical cable company that controls access to practically every channel available, our viewing options are limited. Think about most of what’s available on the 500-plus channels. We have dozens of reality shows ranging in topic from pawn shops, anything Alaska, polygamist families … Continue reading Why the history genre is keeping TV alive