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Posted by grampa in the real shit (Thursday January 29, 2009 at 10:59 am)

I’m staying in Hawaii – after some strange trials and tribulations of the last half a year, I’ve found a really sweet house, a really great room mate and a new job, paying more money than the last one and it’s less than a mile from my house.

I thought for a while that it was time to leave, but I was wrong.  For now, anyway, I’m home.

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Le Roi Est Mort, Indeed 5 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit (Monday June 23, 2008 at 9:57 am)

Truly a sad day here at Grampaland.  One of the greats has fallen. George Carlin is dead. 

Not since the death of Sam Kinison have I felt such a profound sadness at the death of an entertainer.

I had the fortune of seeing him live.  I can’t remember for the life of me where it was.  I believe that it was in Indiana, Pennsylvania, but it could have just as easily been in Wilkes-Barre or Lancaster.  He was as great on stage as he was on HBO or recording and, even though we had heard the all the material before, George could make us laugh with nothing more than inflection and spike. 

Let us not dwell on what is gone, however.  For we were fortunate enough to live in the era when he was at his apex as a performer and a satirist.  Let us be grateful for that.

It will be said of George that He Walked With Giants.

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Man, I Can’t Make This Shit Up 4 comments

Posted by grampa in random shit,the real shit (Monday April 21, 2008 at 6:41 am)

Last night, I met a midget. With rickets.

I have the best life ever.

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The Point of All This Livin’ Is the Dying Yet to Come 5 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit (Wednesday February 6, 2008 at 10:42 am)

Well, color me shocked.  Heath Ledger died of an “accidental” drug overdose.

Now, of course, it’s being said that it was just a combination of the drugs which caused the death, but the amounts of each in his system aren’t being released.  The family claims that they were all within prescribed dosages.

However, I seem to recall a report of a rolled up $20 bill at the scene, along with packets of an “unknown substance.”  Now, just ignoring the packets, one of the drugs in his system was Oxycontin and, having snorted a whole shit load of those bad boys (before figuring out that you got a lot more out of them if you bypassed the middle man and shot them directly into your bloodstream),  my method of choice for snorting was the rolled up bill, which I would then lick clean of all residue – you know, to get all the good shit.

Now, I’m not celebrating the death of this actor.  As I have written elsewhere, I enjoyed his movies and it really is a loss to the acting community.  However, hopefully the acting community, and the community at large, will take heed and begin to understand that it doesn’t matter if you buy your smack in the warzone in Philly or at your local Walgreens, the shit will fucking kill you.

Sadly, however, no one will notice, no one will change, no one will stop and more people will die.  As long as people make the distinction between “Oh, this is legal, prescribed, I got it from my doctor,” and “Hey man, can a get a bundle?” then stupid people are going to make stupid mistakes and they’re going to die.

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Junkie, Heal Thyself 9 comments

Posted by grampa in health,the real shit (Tuesday February 5, 2008 at 10:26 pm)

Yeah, so life’s been a bit crazy of late, what with thinking about my future employment, trying to find a new house mate (Madmartigan, move the fuck back to this island, dickface), getting in my daily exercise and dealing with the fact that six to ten inches of rain have fallen here nearly every day for the last two weeks.

Still, I get my lifting in, do my cardio, try and make the rent for next month while desperately seeking a warm body to fill this empty space in my house. Oh, yeah, and I go to work, too.

And, I haven’t smoked a cigarette since last Monday and I still haven’t killed anyone, even though I did have a 3 hour NA service meeting on Sunday morning. I’ve mentioned this meeting before here.

But, I’m happy to say, I had my last appointment with the liver specialist today and, at one year post-interferon treatment, the Hepatitis C virus is still completely undetectable in my system.

Hence, I’m fuck’n cured, bitches! And on December 12,2007, I made four years clean and sober.

And, you know what, that whole not dying thing is kinda cool. So I’m not really going to sweat the small stuff.

I don’t know what this life has in store for me, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll come out clean on the other side.

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For Dad 4 comments

Posted by grampa in family,the real shit (Friday February 1, 2008 at 10:44 am)

The Muse Never Dies

I keep meeting this girl
this broken girl
beautiful, but like a broken toy
or Humpty Dumpty after all efforts
of the King’s horses and men
and I can never fix her
so I no longer even try.

I fuck her silly
for as long as she’ll let me
then, as we circle
ever and ever closer
to the edge of emotion, she,
like a deer in the headlights,
stops — cold,
catches herself,
and bolts.

Me, like a dumbass
I usually fall (or do I leap?)
off the edge.
But what can I say?
Misery was my only companion
for many a year and
I love both the love,
as well as the loss.

Perhaps I’m too nice,
perhaps they’re too broken,
but I’ve been broken before.
And I’ll be damned if I fear
flying too close to the sun.
So, as soon as the bleeding stops
as soon as my wings flex again,
I fly.

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Attachments 6 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit (Thursday January 31, 2008 at 5:54 pm)

In the Fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous, I’ve learned many things.  One of them is that you can’t force change on other people, though I knew this myself, cause no one can force it on me.

But you can help other people.  Like Range, my sponsor, he’s sponsored probably at least 50 guys in this program in the eight years he’s been clean.  Until I came along, every single one of his sponsees relapsed before making one year clean.

He likes to tell people that I broke his perfect streak of failure.  But he never stopped trying, always making himself available, trying to help the newcomer.   He taught me that we try to help other people, we make the effort to help them help themselves, but if they don’t do the footwork, we can’t carry them.  We carry the message, not the addict.

So, he always cautioned me against getting attached to the results of the people I now sponsor.  That I should just make myself available, and try to guide them along the path.  And every sponsee that I’ve ever had, has relapsed before he’s had one year clean. 

At first, it was kind of difficult, because I had formed an attachment where I shouldn’t have.  I should have only been concerned about the effort, my effort, and not someone else’s results.  It’s much less painless that way if they choose to go back out into the storm.

This is the same guy that tells me that “expectations are merely pre-meditated resentments.”

But, tonight, my sponsee makes one year clean.  And while I’ve been careful about not becoming too attached, I am very happy for him, and for me, because I get more out this process than anybody I’ve ever helped, though they’d never believe it.

And I’m still not smoking.

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Baby, I’m An Anarchist 1 comments

Posted by grampa in history lesson,I am full of love,the real shit (Monday January 21, 2008 at 8:34 pm)

You know, I’ve worn many hats in my day, from Generalissimo/Head Librarian, Lysergic Terrorist, Walking Frenzy, Drug Dealer, Felon, to, most recently, Respected Member of the Community (I know, this one’s a little hard to swallow).

You see, I became a community activist for a short while these last few months.  The gym I go to is run by the YMCA and, two weeks before Thanksgiving, they announced that there was going to be a member’s meeting the next day and that they were going to close the following Monday.

So, naturally, acting as I always do – on pure, unrivaled self interest – I dusted off my old Rabble Rouser hat and set to uniting the community to rise up against the YMCA and save my their gym.  So I, along with a few other Rousers, gathered together about sixty people for the meeting.

Knowing the value of propaganda, due to (a) a love of Goebbels and (b) a love of (the Rubberneck), I made sure that all the island papers new about and were at the meeting.

The Y was totally unprepared for the turnout (they didn’t even have enough chairs set up – not even close) and they were awed by the level of hostility of the townsfolk towards the YMCA for closing the gym.

They made some promises, we set up committees, had membership drives, got lots of people to donate time and money and I was actually nice to most of these people most of the time (I said MOST), and the Y agreed to keep the place open for a few more months and then move it into another building that they owned and continue to operate the center.

Great, problem solved!

Until yesterday, when there was another member’s meeting and they said that unless the community can come up with $90,000.00 in a week, they’re shuttin’ the fucker down.

Now, the YMCA on this island has a history of corruption going back more than a decade.  A million dollars was donated for a swimming pool back in the 90s and that money has mysteriously disappeared.  Shit like that, ad nauseam.

Anyway, I saw the Executive Director of the Y today while I was working out.  I said, “So that’s it, huh, you’ve just been blowing smoke up our asses for the last two months?”

She said, “Well, unless the town comes up with a miracle, yeah, then that’s it.”

To which I replied, “Honey, this town has given the YMCA more miracles than it deserves and you’ve fucked up every single one of them.  Don’t be lookin’ for us to bail you out again.”

Next time I start feeling some kind of community spirit,  I’m just gonna get back to my roots and throw a brick through a Starbucks window.

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A God Of Our Understanding 4 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit (Saturday January 19, 2008 at 10:22 pm)

As you know, or if you don’t, I’m in recovery (since December 12, 2003).  In those 12 step meetings that word “God” comes up a lot. 

Being a cynical agnostic at best, atheist at worst, and a student of ancient religions, I dislike that word more than any other.

In fact, I let it drive me out of recovery the first time, and I damn near died.

The second time I tried to get clean, at the second meeting that I went to, the subject happpened to be “A God of Our Understanding” 

At the meeting, this 6’3″ Hawaiian guy with a huge afro, a former atheist with five years clean, starts talking about how this subject really bothered him when he first got clean, how it drove him out of the rooms the first time, and how he came to accept a certain spirituality that has nothing to do with organized religion.

“So,” he said, “now, when I say God, I use that term because it’s a one syllable word, which is easy to pronounce, and everybody usually knows what I’m talking about.”

He’s now my best friend.  I call him King Tonga.

(Edited to add the following):

Now that my dear friend Darren has decided to join me in recovery, and he also has problems with the God thing, I explained to him my concept of God.

I said, “Darren, when I think of God, I basically think of Sam Kinison, not his whole body, just a gigantic Kinison-head, which fills 3/4 of the sky, and is alternatively laughing or screaming, depending on my mood.”

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If You Want To Make God Laugh, Make Plans 13 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit,why I love my job (Saturday January 12, 2008 at 12:26 am)

Yeah, so I had recently drawn up, literally, on paper, what I needed to get done in the next two years that I figured I had at my current job.

God is now laughing.

Apparently, I’m being downsized.  I mean, I got at least a half a year, maybe nine months, possibly  a year, but after that, it’s pau.

Now there are many possible opportunities for me to take out here and I’m looking at this as a growing experience, but, man, today was a tough day.  I really, really wanted a bottle of bourbon.  But I knew that wouldn’t solve anything.

Fortunately, I know a lot of influential people on this island, and this entire culture is about who you know, and I know all the right ones, so SOMETHING will happen.  I might not like it, but something will certainly happen.

What I do know, for the time being, is that I’m going to do anything and everything I can to keep the lights on, food in the fridge and gas in my car.  If I can do all those things, then I’m staying put here in Hawaii.  However, contingency exit strategies are also being considered.

However, to be completely honest, I’m quite terrified of moving back to the mainland.  I’ve never been able to be clean and sober there.  The best years of my life have been here, on this island, with the friends I’ve made here.

I was talking with my Dad tonight and he said, “Kevin, when I put you on that plane in State College, I never thought that I was going to see you alive again.”

Well, papa, I’m not only alive, but thriving.

I’ve managed to crawl through a river of shit and come out clean on the other side.  I’m still standing on my own two feet, I’m in the best shape of my life, I’m completely healthy, My brain still works, I have an incredible skill set and I’m clean.  I know everything is going to be just fine.

Maybe not like I planned, but one door closes, blah blah blah.

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