It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

Sometimes I Do Too Much...

Lately I've been a little bit better about trying not to do too many things...particularly when I go on vacation. When I was on vacation last month, I pretty much stuck to my guns on my one event/planned activity each day. When I don't stick to that I end up running myself down and coming back to Albuquerque wanting to rain down destruction on the unsuspecting. That's fun sometimes too.

Well...going over my calendar for the next five days...I may have gone a little overboard. Let's look at Brandon's Vacation Calendar...

Saturday

5:45 Arrive Minneapolis/St. Paul

7:30 Take in a Play

Sunday

11:00 Visit My Favorite Crack Head

2:00 Imbibe 12 Pack of Coke with Coya and see Underworld II

7:00 Dinner with Scooby Gang in Uptown

Monday

10:00 Campaign Volunteering

5:00 Board Meeting

Tuesday

10:00 Campaign Volunteering

3:00 Conference Call

3:30 Hanging with Chris J. (my favorite Meth Head...besides myself of course)

6:00 More Campaign Volunteering

Wednesday

6:00 (that's am people) Campaign Event

All Day Campaign Event(s)

12:00am Arrive ABQ

Thursday

9am Kick Ass and Call Names.

Now...I knew this trip home would be a titch more busy since I am going home for Peter's big campaign kick off extravaganza...but then I realized I hadn't seen the Scoobie's in four months...and I have to make some Chris time when I come home...oh yeah...and this list doesn't include obligatory playtime with Sandie the Homely Dog and her two Mommies. Nor does it include time to see my own Mother (I would be smote again if I didn't see Mom). Somewhere in there I should go to a meeting. And then there's that thing I really love to do....sleep. Have to have copious amounts of sleep. Normally my schedule when I go home looks like...go to bed at 10pm...wake up at 9am...eat two bowls of cereal...go back to bed until 1pm...get up...leave house...have fun for four hours...come home...eat more cereal..and go back to bed. I'm disciplined.  And that, ladies and gents, is how I like it. I'm also going to try and see Harry in there somewhere, so I can get some feedback on that lovely play that I've just finished.

It's a rough life having people love you. But some burdens you just have to bear. Hey glory. I'm not sure if I'll be blogging while I am in the Sin Cities aka Minneapolis/St. Paul (if you haven't seen Drop Dead Gorgeous...rent it now...that's an order from your commander in chief--and that's a line from Annie...tehehehehe). I'm not sure I have the time in my calendar for blogging. But I suppose after spending my Friday night watching a French gay love story (Juste une cuestion d'amour) and doing my laundry...I could use  little bit of excitement in my life. Juste a little.

Alcohol is a Drug...

Stomach queasy. Eyes tired. Body feeling run down. Head hurts. Some would call it a hangover...I call it withdrawl. Alcohol is a drug. So, I tried what some in the various and sundry 12 step programs call further experimentation. That's when you see if you can use alcohol like a "normie" if alcohol wasn't your drug of choice that sent you to the 12 step program int he first place. And while I did not get anywhere near what one would call drunk last night...God still smote me with a hangover. I don't need to be smote twice to know that alcohol is bad for me.

So my further experimentation has come to an end. And I now have a new sobriety date...was March 14th...now it is January 20th. One of the beautiful things that I've come to understand about the work that I've done through 12 stepping...is that six months ago...I would probably have fallen down on my face in shame about this whole situation. After the last nine plus months...I've come to understand that this is generally part of process of long lasting sobriety...not always...some people are lucky and never ever pick up any substance ever again. Those are the rare few. But I know some folks like that. I'm definately not dancing about proud that I relapsed...but I don't feel badly about it either. Score one for Pride, my former sponsor---God Bless you Leo G., and the fellowship of the program(s). Today is my regularly schedule meeting day...I usually have no problem finding something to talk about...but that will be double double easy today.

Peace in the Mideast...

The Peace between Palestinians and Jews

In Jerusalem, a female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, each day, for a very long, long time.

So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was! She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, she approached him for an interview.

"I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"

"For about 60 years."

"60 years?!?! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"

"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims".
"I pray for all the hatred to stop and I pray for all our children to grow up in safety and friendship."

"How do you feel after 60 years of praying?"

"Like I'm talking to a fucking wall."

(I stole this from my friend Nawwaf's blog...Nawwafie rocks!)

In Jerusalem, a female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, each day, for a very long, long time.

So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was! She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, she approached him for an interview.

"I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"

"For about 60 years."

"60 years?!?! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"

"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims".
"I pray for all the hatred to stop and I pray for all our children to grow up in safety and friendship."

"How do you feel after 60 years of praying?"

"Like I'm talking to a fucking wall."

(I stole this from my friend Nawwaf's blog...Nawwafie rocks!)

What's Next?

Unfortunately in today's world...the question what next often requires months and months and months of planning. So, even though I am up to my eyeballs in work right here in lovely Albuquerque...I need to start planning now for what...exactly...I am going to do next. That's the at least 45,000 dollar a year...preferrably 60-70,000 dollar a year question. Really...next...I'm trying to get paid.

I'm all about the movement...I've given years of my life to building a better more just world...while...almost at the same time...self-destructing over and over and over again...not a pretty cycle at all...let me tell you. Luckily/Horribly for me I am a Virgo/pro-bullshitter/hell of a thespian...and until early 2005...I'd managed to keep most of my self-destruction under wraps. Now I just break down in public where everyone can see. You get a much stronger response that way. I have spent most of this here life of mine living my day time life for other folks...and living a nighttime life of selfish self-hate...hurting plenty of folks in the process. I'm coming to realize more and more that volunteering to come on down to ABQ and do this last stint with YouthAction has been more about an expiation of sins than anything else. As if by multiplying my bags and  bags of issues by guarenteed financial insolvency that I will somehow find a spiritual balance to make up for all the mistakes I've made and the not-so-great things I've done to myself and to others along the way. Instead...I'm just broke.

But now comes one of those golden life moments when you have the choice to make some changes. My time here in ABQ is swiftly coming to a close...and the world is pretty much wide open at this point. I've got a car in half-way decent shape that can carry me to the four corners of the United States (or back to Minnesota)...and now is the time to think very strategically about where I've been, where I want to go, and where I should be in order to best meet my life goals (both those professional ones that have seemed relatively easy...and those personal growth ones that I seem to grab with one hand only to smack that hand with the other one until it lets go). One of the things I have to be super real about this go round is money. I need to find a job that is fullfilling but that also pays. Mama can't keep the student loan man from garnishing his wages forever.

And the other question is how does writing fit into all of this. Writing is my passion. My life goal is to do the writing thing as full time as humanly possible...and do it not as a starving artist...I'm way over that. So...where do I have to be to best position myself to have success as a writer...that will eventually allow me to drop the day gig altogether and pick up the life gig of writing permanently. I really don't want to be in my mid-30s before I've figured out how to write full time. Maybe the play I just finished will help me out with that. I've started sending it out to some folks with some connections...and to some folks that provide great feedback...and I think the play is good. I think it's really good. And I am generally of the school that while others seem to think I have some skill as a writer...once I've written something I find it hard to see what others see that id's my writing as "good." Eternal Dreams is not like that...I read through it and I'm proud of the work I've done...and I look forward to seeing it up on a stage...asap.

Allright. I'm rambling aimlessly today, and I've got some grant research to get through. I guess this entry is just letting folks know that contrary to the image that some folks have of me...I don't know what I'm doing half the time or where I'm going or even where I want to go...I just seem to end up places...randomly...or maybe not so randomly...but I end up there anyway...usually broke...but there ;-).

Addiction...

So I was on my way back to the office this evening to check some email...and I caught part of a talk radio program...the radio host was soliciting opinions about the program CRACK (Children Requiring a Caring Kommunity)...a program that pays women addicts $500 if they are willing to get their tubes tide or submit to some form of long term birth control like Depo Provera. Excuse me while I get so angry that I want to smash this computer screen.

First of all, the talk show host said that "some people consider alcohol and drug addiction to be a physical disease." Yes...those some people are the American Medical Association...that pesky little group of medical professionals that determines exactly what is and what is not a disease based on scientific empirical research. Those ladies and gentlemen in the white coats determined that addiction (alcoholism included in this) was a disease...back in the 50's. Let's catch up America. Now...I'm hardly for cheering on women that are actively using any illegal substance to have childre...but if we are going to start paying women with diseases to not have children...then the list better get a whole lot longer than those with the disease of addiction. We might as well include women that carrying the genes for all kinds of nasty little diseases that might or might not pop up later in a childs life. Actually, why don't we just bring back eugenics...because really...that's what this program is...a eugenics program designed to weed out undesirables from having children. Peachy.

The catch here is that the program is peddled as being about the children and not about the parents. It is a horrible and terrible thing when a child is born that has been affected by fetal alcohol syndrome...there is pretty much little worse than hearing the screams of crack babies (thanks to a good sex ed program in Minneapolis...I've had that experience)...but what's even worse is actively shaming women with a disease into giving up their reproductive rights. This program asks women that are extremely vulnerable...and if they are actively using (which is who this program targets)...women that are not in any mental or spiritual condition to make any decisions whatsoever about whether they should or should not have babies now or in the long term. And, truly...very truly...give a crack head or a meth head or a coke head that is actively using 500 dollars...and that money is going in a pipe, in a vein, or in a nostril. This program does nothing but destroy reproductive rights and choice, shame and demonize women that are addicts (the talk show host said the program isn't about shaming...the program in and of itself is shaming...thanks), and it will most definately further the cycle of addiction by handing active addicts a big wad of cash.

If there is a program out there with enough money to just be handing out 500 dollars to folks...why not start a treatment scholarship program for addicts that have exhausted other avenues for treatment? Why not channel that money into counseling vouchers that allow recovering women in a 12 step or other recovery program seek the services of a private psycho-therapist that will help them uncover some of the life wounds that allowed their latent addictive predisposition to become active? Why not use the money to identify young people at risk for addiction and provide real education (not this just say no bullshit...that's about as smart and effective as voting Republican) about how to avoid becoming an active addict? What about supporting addiction research?  If these are just a few ideas that I've come up with in the time it takes me to type (and I type 110 wpm)...then I'm sure a much brighter, smarter, wealthier person can do much much much more.

This conversation touchs home for me. I'm an addict. I struggle every single damn day to not use. Every day. I've got enough shame built up inside of me to last several life times...and the last thing I need is an organization coming to me asking me if it can castrate me for the good of my unborn children. This is just another volley in the war over women's bodies. It's a low and base attack on women that are already struggling with enough. I say enough. Back off. If you are truly concerned then provide support, healing, caring, and understanding to the woman that is already there...suffering...and not her hypothetical unborn child. The child may never be. She is and needs love now.

Stewing In My Own Funk...

It's day three of the attack of the Death Gas...and I'm afraid the distilled essence of butt funk is going to soak into my skin...permanently. But I won't bore you with another  day of describing the exact composition of my contribution to the greenhouse effect...except to say that the Kyoto Protocols may want to include a new section...just for me.

I believe this is going to be a short blog day. I've got a ton of work to get done...and ain't no body going to do it but me. Really...I think that's a shame. What happened to the good old days...when the boss just sat around and made decisions...and the entry level employees scurried to and fro doing the boss' bidding. I think we should perhaps bring back the feudal system. I would make a great, wise, and generous Lord. I would take care of my peasents...never leaving a bruise when I've had to beat them because they've disappointed me in some way...my bath was too hot...the nude dancing boy had uneven testicles...my castrati was making out with my nude dancing boy. I would be kind and generous...allowing men and women to learn to count past twenty...permitting gay marriage...allowing everyone a half day off every other Thursday except on those that end in day. Ahhhhhhhh that would be the life.

But...alas...I live in this world. In this time. Where I'm forced to use my brain in the service of others. Where oh where did the world go awry?

Nuclear Gas Warning...

My ass should have one of those radioactive tattoos on it...you know the ones they slap on the sides of those containers full of nuclear mutagens that cause exactly 1.234 billion types of cancer. You know the ones I'm talking about the kind that the government just loves to bury on native lands...especially if they can bury them in native sacred sites...well...my asshole should be sealed up in one of those containers and hauled off to the nearest reservation...because I've been releasing some fumes for the last forty-eight hours that are starting to eat out the backside of my pants.

Now...having some potent gas is a matter of pride in my family. Letting a good one rip that can clear a room is as good as getting an Oscar as far as the men folk in my family are concerned. After folks stop gagging...generally there is a round of back slapping and applause...while the women begin sharpening knives for the counterattack.  But the last couple of days have been even a bit much for me. It's one thing when your relatives clap for a fart well done...it's another thing when your asshole sounds like its clapping when its letting one rip.

Yesterday, I was at the movie theater, and one slipped out in the lobby. The guy in front of me said to his wife..."I just love the sound of popcorn popping." I thought to myself...yeah...popcorn popping...that's what that sound was...then I quickly moved away before the aroma of "butter topping" could reach the innocent couple. I did have the rare joy of sitting in Tristan and Isolde yesterday with an empty row in front of me...only two people at the other end of my row...and one woman in the row behind me. So, I merrily let them rip...one after another in rapid succession...throughout the whole movie. I'm sure the woman behind me almost passed out from the general lack of oxygen due to the icrease of methane...but it served her right...she sounded like she was eating an entire bag of popcorn seeds...plus...she had the nerve to mix them in with chocolate covered almonds...I was silently hoping that my gas would kill her.

I'm not sure where this occassional unstoppable effluvium arises. I've been regular in my movements. I'm eating tons of bran. I haven't eaten anything out of the ordinary lately. And I haven't flown in a couple of weeks (my poor friends...the pressurization in airplanes has the unfortunate effecet of pressurizing the gas in my intestines...so the loved ones I visit get a little bonus for the first couple of days after I touch down...until my intestines touch down as well). Perhaps I should do as the miners once did to test for mine toxicity...they would carry a canary into the mine...and if it died...they knew that there were dangerous gases about...I could start each day by shoving a canary in my butt...and if it dies...I know that it's going to be a tough day for everyone else in the office. But that would just ruin the suprise ;-).

Well...I have a meeting starting in seventeen minutes. And I can feel another anal explosion about to take place. I could shut my office door to spare my co-workers, but my eyes are already tearing up...and I don't want to risk passing out from my own toxic emissions. So in order to keep myself safe...I will wander about...spreading the message of goodwill and joy to all those with a nose to smell it.

I Feel As If I Gave Birth...

So in nine days...just nine days...I gave birth to a 175 page baby...I mean...new play. And I'm tired. I feel as if I went through labor right along with Erin...but except...I started before her and ended after her. The upside is that I don't have to feed my baby...hopefully my baby will feed me.

Now's the hard part...sending my little newborn out into the world where it will face criticism, critique, and rejection. I just hope that I've instilled enough strength into it that it will be able to survive and flourish. A Mother always worries.

My new play is entitled Eternal Dreams...it's the story of an African-American man living with an incurable disease that has lost all hope that he will ever find true love...only to come face to face with true love from another life...when he finds out he is dying he must make the choice...to die or to live forever...as the lover of a Spanish vampire.

Couldn't you just die!