Tuesday, May 04, 2021

Watch this space

If FB decides to reinstate the account of the former "president" tomorrow, I expect an uptick of activity here for random updates and the like, doin' it old school here and via twitter. Jury is out on instagram. Probably not much there since FB owns them also. I do not want to continue to do business with anything or anyone that/who aids and abets known fascists. FB is already on thin ice anyway. I've contemplated stepping away from that platform for some time for a variety of other reasons, not exclusive to Zuckerberg being a complete d-bag and Sheryl Sandberg just generally bugging the fuck out of me with her lean-in bullshit. Google and other platforms are not without guilt as well. We do live in the modern world and have to live in that world and communicate as best we can (when in Rome, etc.). But a line needs to be drawn and if 45 is back to feeding the news cycle again with his bs, I'll be here for a bit. 


Thursday, February 18, 2021

The road...to recovery...

 ...is slow. It is slow. But I'm still on it. 

I bought a UA Apollo Solo A/D converter a week ago. I got it set up and running. Now to find the time to record something. 

I was motivated because an old pal, Jeff Jagielo, reached out to me about a project he's working on. Sent me some tracks to play some horn on. I've already mapped out the parts and am ready to print it. Now I just need to find some time when I have the house to myself, or I try it in the bedroom. I can do that, right? The mics aren't hot when I'm tracking trumpet so what's the risk of noise from TVs in the other room, etc interfering? 

Well, I don't want to start my first project after a long dry spell off that way. 

I'm spending the time in between practicing my horn, doing some embouchure recovery exercises. That's the slow part. The road to recovery, that is....

I'll bet you thought I was talking about the alcohol, right? I'm good there. I don't even think about taking a drink. I'm feeling just fine without it. There may come a time when I don't feel that way and will have to fight against those impulses, I keep telling myself. But I'm not anywhere near that now. COVID is bad enough, if I drink and act like an asshole again, I'm done. I'd rather be annoyed with other people drinking than be the one being the annoying asshole or worse. I'm safe from all of that now, and I don't want to ever go back to feeling the way I felt at my worst. 

I have a split screen up right now, White Stripes, Glastonbury, 2005 on Youtube on my right, this browser with blogger on the left. Previously watched the recently released footage of the Basement performance from 2005. I guess that's Nigel Godrich's basement. Pretty sure. I could probably pause, or open another tab and look it up. I mean, I'm already in google, right? Nah. I'm pretty sure. I'll just leave it at that. I don't always need to know everything right away - or ever, really. 

I sure do miss live music these days. Now that we can't go watch it, I really miss it. I wasn't watching it all that much in the years just before COVID. But I sure as hell will when we all get the green light to go back to the clubs. I want to get a band going again. This part of the recovery has been good - a boost for my confidence. For years I struggled with feelings of inadequacy. Nothing I could perform would possibly be good enough, just mediocre. So why bother? 

You know what? I might as well give it a go. If it sucks, people will tell me (by indifference) and then I can just go back to the hibernating I've been doing for, oh, the last 16 years! Well, aside from the occasional horn gig where my lip barely lasts cos I never practice these embouchure exercises. I never did exercises, I just played a lot more. But now? The road...to recovery...

Saturday, January 30, 2021

This too shall pass...

 Last post seems so quaint. How horrible we thought he was, about to get worse. But that was always the truth. When you thought THIS was bad, you ain't seen nothin' yet. And now he has a Junior Surrogate, feeding the media's "show hole," as it were. 

But I digress. I'm sitting at my dining room table, having a coffee and an egg (just enough protein for my zoom workout in an hour). I've settled on the dining room table as my desk of choice. When you think about it, we do have a fairly small house for a family of four. Tradeoffs, check privilege, get all that. Still, if not for a request from an old friend back in WI last night to provide some trumpet tracks on a song, I wouldn't be pining for my own space to set up some recording gear and such, probably. Tuff shed? #oaklandtuff

Our family has settled into a pandemic rhythm. It's not something to shout from the mountaintop as freakin' awesome, but, unlike for many out there, it's not horrible either. We're getting by, more fortunate than most. Some guy named Chris Herd said on Twitter that "Having 0 commute and working remotely will let me spend the equivalent of 281 more days of time with my daughters before they turn 18." I don't know if that's healthy or not, as kids in their double digits really need to be spending more time with their peers in person, in my opinion. But this too shall pass...

Monday, January 04, 2021

Happy 2021

I went the entire calendar year of 2020 without alcohol, and I'm approaching 17 months on the 13th. Soon we will have a real President again. Reasons to be cheerful. I'll write more in a couple of weeks, after the world is rid of this noxious, horrible, no good President of these current not so United States.

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Two weeks

Here’s hoping for a one termed shit stain on the body politick. 

What’s two weeks compared to fourteen months of sobriety, four years of this terrible presidency, six years since I started at OpenDNS, which opened up a career path for me way beyond my expectations, eleven years since owning our own home in the Bay Area, thirteen and ten years since our daughters were born, nineteen years of happy marriage on balance, with a few bumps along the way, twenty seven years since moving to California in the first place, thirty five years since my childhood worldview was shaken and I moved from Berlin, WI to the Chicagoland area, and fifty years since I was born?

What’s two weeks - after having to endure the worst form of projection and shamefully divisive behavior, to the point where our kids are conditioned to believe the exact opposite of anything that comes out of that man’s mouth, not to mention his supporters on my side of the family from whom I’ve become estranged, probably for good - for these last four years?

If the pandemic has taught us anything, it’s to learn how to sit and wait, to slow down, to stop being in such a hurry to get from point a to point b. And though two weeks cannot go fast enough now, with the possibility that suspense may linger longer than two weeks - I hold out hope that there’s still a chance for us to straighten out the rudder and stabilize this shit - I mean ship. What’s another two weeks after thirty years of journal writing and seventeen years of blogging in this very space? Or four years of college along the way?

Tick, tock. 


Friday, August 28, 2020

Sobering on

Now that I've been sober for a year, I've stopped counting the days but not my blessings. Grateful that it hasn't felt like a daily struggle to prevent myself from taking that first drink. Happy to know that this habit I'd developed over thirty years or so, one that had crossed a line into the danger zone around five years ago, seems to be gone from my go-to things.


Has the coronavirus crisis been an unintentional help in some way? Would I have otherwise felt like maybe it would be okay to slip away for a bit by now and saddle up to a bar somewhere, for some "me time?" Since I'm giving "voice" to that on the page, the answer to that question must at least be "maybe." But I think a soft maybe.


Something else has kicked in. Could it be mental toughness from putting in the work, first physically, and later psychologically, to refrain from taking that first drink when feeling stressed, uncertain, doubtful, confused, knowing that drinking will just make things worse? Or is it more automatic? Is it the subconscious, sending warning signs to the part of my brain that are stronger than the signals that would normally lead me to automatically say “fuck it, I need a drink?”


I’m not going to give myself the credit for having enough mental toughness, or that willpower alone has helped me get through this. I think the bigger reason is built-in somewhere, and automated - at least, over the balance of this time. And I think that “something” is somehow related to the healing process, of the body healing itself. And that “body” is the whole body, including the mind.


In Proust Was A Neuroscientist, the author Jonah Lehrer argues, among other things, that Walt Whitman’s central poetic idea was that “we do not have a body, we are a body. Although our feelings feel immaterial, they actually begin in the flesh.” The central thesis of Lehrer’s book is that poetic ideas, such as this one, have in more recent times been proven scientifically correct in the field of neuroscience. The artists – Whitman, Proust, Stravinsky, others, were onto something, and then the neuroscientists in our own time mopped up with the facts to prove them.


If that is true, might it be then that my body, having been given a long enough break from a negative substance influencing it and given enough time to start healing from the aftereffects, is now sending signals to my mind to stop reaching for the thing that has been giving me physical ailments such as appetite loss, abnormal bodily functions resulting from liver damage, and also psychological problems such as resentment, unfocused anger and random grievances in order to keep me safe? But safe from what? Death? Loneliness? Was it the outright fear of loneliness and isolation that provided the initial shock therapy to aid any willpower that I did possess, to quit cold turkey and seek early help? To buy time to start healing? And could it be possible that I was not truly sick enough from alcoholism that this initial time to heal was long enough to sustain itself?


I am more convinced now than ever that the mind and the body are intertwined if there is any way we can get to figuring out the holy grail of what the "soul" actually is. One informs the other. Therefore, perhaps my alcoholism was not far enough advanced for me to be able to completely ignore these signals, so long as I’d had enough time away from the daily intake to prefer what life is like without it?


I’m going to go with my gut when I say that the fear of loneliness and isolation is a stronger signal being sent to me than now than the pull of any temporary respite from the daily grind that alcohol might have given me along the way. In the back of my mind, I know that had I kept on the same path I was on up until this time last year (or, really, before the first time I quit for almost 7 months back in 2018), I'd be truly alone right now, in some unfamiliar apartment, by myself, estranged from my wife and family. The person I was becoming on the previous path was not sustainable for me to hold together all of the other things I hold dear such as family, work that is meaningful enough, and self-respect. Things were slipping. Alcoholism is a creeper.


One year sober and counting doesn't mean I've escaped loneliness. I'm struggling right now with another kind of loneliness. It's not debilitating, by any means. And I'm not sure I'm all that upset feeling left out of the mainstream of my friends and family who can keep on drinking socially to the degree that they always have. But now that I’m stone cold sober all the time, the effects of alcohol on others are a lot more noticeable. Its harder to relate to people who are intoxicated these days, because I’m not sharing that journey. It’s often a one-sided conversation, and hard for me to open myself up to intimacy. Sure, I can play along, because there is a kind of conversational muscle memory that takes over. But it’s not the same. 


The loneliness I sometimes feel is one that I can't replace by only surrounding myself with sober people. I can't do it. I wouldn’t want to. There are support groups that can help. Some tried, some failed, some worked. I leave open the possibility of setting aside some time and going back to a meeting. But not a Zoom meeting. I can make do without that.

Now that this is all on the page, I can gently let it all go. Just wrap it in a bow, lay it all out in a boat, put some candles and flowers in there, a picture or two, and let it drift out slowly to sea.


One more thing: it really is better now than it was before. Even if it’s annoying at times. If there were a crystal ball to show all of our possible futures, my gut says the course I’m on now will probably lead to a better outcome than the one I was on before. Speaking of crystal balls, Dan Rather shared a line about one just this morning, one he said he’d heard long ago about prognostication: “Those who live by the crystal ball end up eating a lot of broken glass.”  


Letting go is the thing.

Friday, August 14, 2020

1 year

I did it! Time heals all wounds, isn’t that right? Last year on this night I was talking to my friend Marcos about being asked to move out of my house and he graciously gave me a key to his place which I didn’t end up needing to use. What a difference a year makes! I’m still here - and if my biggest struggle now is cutting out the portions of yogurt and granola and chocolate nut crunch trail mix, I’d say that’s a marked improvement. 

It was hot last year at this time. It was almost as hot as that today. But I didn’t need the big industrial fan all night in the living room, blowing cool air on me as I slept on the couch, with the loud noise drowning out my sorrows. 

K and I made amends quickly - as I had already proven I could stop drinking before - time along that path again healed me, and us, back up. Admitting to myself I just couldn’t be that person who could get away with trying to drink socially without crossing the line anymore. 

Once again, as before, the voices of resentment that were amplified with the drink went back on mute when I stopped. It was easier physically the second time around as well. It took a few months to work through the psychological withdrawal. I’m to the point now where the little voices inside myself are saying “Why would you take that first drink? It just leads to more suffering.” Physically, by this time last year I was losing my appetite - and my bodily functions were showing the tell tale signs of liver stress. 

Once I quit again, my appetite came back with a vengeance - and it is this I now need to pivot to for year two. I’d read Recovery 2.0 once before. I’ve kept it near my bedside table to pick back up again. I also keep a copy of Recovery Dharma handy as well - for some informal self meditation guidance, though I don’t really meditate in the traditional sense, or on any kind of regular basis.

The covid crisis has helped me in my recovery - fewer temptations socially, that’s for sure. But I’m also feeling like I can cope with it better because I’d already become accustomed to one day at a time. And now everyone else had to get a feeling of what that’s like - to shelter in place. I’ve been sheltered in place, in a sense, for a year now. Since August 13, 2019, and once before for about seven months, from March 11th to September 29th, 2018. Now that I think of it - these next five or six weeks are ones I’ve been sober for three years in a row. I’d have been well on my way towards year three of sobriety in a row by now without the ten month of joyless drinking I went back to in between. As I’ve said before: drinking...it was fun. Until it wasn’t. 

Allie and Mason dropped me a sand dollar in the mail last week, which arrived just this evening. I guess the USPS really is slowing down. But the timing of its arrival was perfect, right on the dot. It says “1 year.” I’ll see if I can’t embed a picture on here, and bid you all a good night. 

Let’s see. Here: 

Watch this space

If FB decides to reinstate the account of the former "president" tomorrow, I expect an uptick of activity here for random updates ...