Out of the woods..into the woods..out of the woods...into the...

2017 has not been without many challenges. I spent most of it in residential treatment aka "rehab". I spent most of 2016 in rehab. In Southern California, there are probably as many rehabs as there are Starbucks. If not more. From Malibu to downtown's Midnight Mission, there is a program designed to fix you. Unless that person is me.

The good news is I haven't ended up like Amy Winehouse. The bad news is I haven't ended up like Adele either. Addiction is a cross I carry every day. I'd be delighted to say that after 4 months of daily classes, meditation, group therapy, individual therapy, 12 step meetings, service commitments, navel gazing and pondering every early childhood event that planted the seeds of addiction in me, I have it down. No more booze or dope for me. I'll get high on life from now on.

Alas, after 4 months, and you can set a cocktail hour by it: I fall off the wagon. Why? I've a high IQ. I know what to do. I have the tools. Yet...off I go.

What I've figured out is that my relapses are triggered when I start future tripping.

My mind starts creating plots....'gosh, i'll be leaving here soon. what the %&*!@# am I going to do? How will I keep Tony in the sanitarium? Can I find a job that pays me six figures again, or should I do what the experts say and go grill hamburgers for a living at minimum wage?  Phooey, McDona1d's would never hire me. Maybe I should follow Betty Hutton's lead. She had a breakdown and turned up years later as a housekeeper for two priests. Is that my fate, Betty Hutton?

And so, I go back into treatment. And I apply myself harder. I do more service work. I read my Big Book as if its the only book I have. (and it is....no other reading materials allowed) I pray. I chant. I network. I do well. And then...I start to worry that I'll never find a safe place I call home again. Ever. I'm that 12 year old orphan again.

And all I know to do that is safe to do: is to run. But, I forget about that old saying, 'wherever you go, there you are.'

...and here I am tonight.
'wherever I go, there I am"

I'm a nightmare I can't wake up from,

On Being Catholic. On Being Human.

Back in November 2012, before my life became one big 'Auld Lang Syne',  I had the best date ever. Matt, my truck driving bear buddy, found himself with a layover in Los Angeles, called me up and we went to dinner and on an impromptu walking tour of Hollywood. No sex, just intelligent conversation. Of course I'd have rolled in the hay with him in an instant but he had to work the next day. Driving trucks requires a lot of stamina.

Matt left his ball cap at my house that night. I still don't know how that happened because he was wearing a ball cap when he left. But there it was and it was on my desk to be shipped to him when I got hauled off to Wisconsin to explain a few things.

We reconnected the next spring: and I returned the cap to him, as much as I'd have liked to keep it as a memento. But it's his favorite cap and I respect those things. Besides, in the world I live in now, things like baseball caps as trophies, dinner dates and alas, intelligent conversations seems to be part of the past.

In our email exchange, I was telling Matt how faith and hope in the form of those old Catholic standards, the bible, prayer, examination of conscience and the rosary came right back to my aid as I pondered how the hell was I going to get back to California from Wisconsin after I went before the judge?

He was quite curious about my faith and how I reconciled celibacy and other issues with Church doctrine. Matt is a very very intelligent man and I knew I'd put my foot in it. But I'll try to explain myself.

Regarding celibacy or chastity, that's quite easy for me to do considering my current situation. I can't **** so I sing alot. From 2009-2013 I catted quite a bit around town and enjoyed my randy-bachelor-about-town status. Then, I met my current partner and enjoyed monogamy-ever-after.

I was quite pleased when Pope Benedict rattled the status quo by stepping down saying I'm 'quite impressed' with Pope Francis is an understatement. This is a Holy Father to whom I actually pay more attention. He's such a great man that those old urban legends from childhood keep popping into my head about the end of days and being the last pope. These negative thoughts dovetail too well with some of the stuff I heard from the adroit theologians I met behind prison walls. 

But back to being Catholic, I've never subscribed to the idea that a Pope is infallible because, c'mon...he's a human being first. Religion is man-made, not Divine. I grew very frustrated with my old parish because all I saw was Jesuit mismanagement. Reduction of services(fewer priests, cutting the number of daily masses, taking the handles off the Sunset Blvd doors to 'keep the homeless out') decisions that ultimately hurt the 'customer'. I went from Catholic cheerleader to disgruntled disciple.

I recently revisited that church and felt the lost opportunities hanging over the sanctuary like holy incense. So my search for a church family continues. I still have a very hard time attending mass, or seeking alternate paths to God, even making an appointment to discuss spiritual direction remains difficult.

Yet I know in my heart that being spiritually 'disconnected' has hurt me. I did the disconnect, btw. I abandoned God, not the other way around. I believe in God. I believe in the Universe. I believe in miracles for crying out loud.  In the end, I don't think the Universe cares where I worship, but that I do.

That puts me back to basics: prayer, reading the bible, a daily gratitude journal, asking for guidance, having faith that it will happen and to continue that faith when it doesn't happen on my time.

Auld Lang Syne and Signs

For me, my first 50 years of life ended at 12:01 AM December 4, 2012. December 3rd had been the night Mercury, Venus and Saturn lined up over the pyramids at Giza: the official start of the New Age.

I'd spent most of that night online, wide awake celebrating this cosmic event. My 'date', via Skype, was a former Episcopal priest-turned-Satanist with a genius I.Q. from the Eastern seaboard. In his profile picture 'Mr. Brinks' had on a tuxedo, perfect for my outlandish romanticism.

For some reason, perhaps in a fit of nostalgic, we listened to a You Tube recording of Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria playing 'Auld Lang Syne'. This was important to me because as a child, my parents and I would watch the New Year's Eve broadcast on CBS from the Waldorf. I dreamed way back then of a glamorous life, but not one that foresaw celebrating it via cyberspace, with a Satanist. Or for that matter, indictment on drug charges. What a perfect date for Little Mr. Catholic me. I had a sense that 'Mr. Brinks' wasn't quite so evil but who knows really. We had a marrrrvelous conversation and I cried real tears of joy.

Why? I felt it was truly a New Age beginning. It all seemed to fall into place. I was confident the road ahead for me was finally opening up and that I could be free of past worries, that I could put out of my mind forever that cheesehead @*&!) Woodman McCarthy, and Norman Nicely, his psychotic now-they're lovers-now-they-ain't boyfriend. I accept the fact that I wasn't going to ever hear the words 'I love you' from Woodsy's mouth. Yet the blame really didn't rest with him. I had broken my own heart but I could move forward now.

I was breaking my heart in a way with Mr, Brinks. Just as I had been doing with every other man I was head over heels with: all of them with partners out of touch, out of the loop, or just out of it. I could love these men as friends, I suppose,but would they ever really love me? How could I expect them to play their part when I no longer wanted to play?

Mr. Brinks unlike most of the others, had boundaries, respected them and I'd say, respected me. Thus that made him an ideal escort into this next era.

I will cherish that night online for the rest of my life.

Another Op'nin, Another Blog

I'm a writer blessed with a wonderful and adventure-filled life. That sounds rather schmaltzy doesn't it?  It's sincere, but don't think this is all moonlight and magnolias. I suggest you continue to read and I hope that you'll find my thoughts interesting enough to follow my blog.

I was born in Dallas,Texas. I'm an only child and lost my mother to a Seconal overdose when I was 12. Ironically, she never made the connection between her habit and one of her favorite movies. Mama's death devastated me. I was a rather grand little boy who got through and to this day gets through the tough times by my love of movies. I live in Los Angeles. I'd wanted to move here since I was 8 years old and about 17 years later, I did just that. I wanted to be a writer and I did just that, too.

I don't call my adopted home town 'L.A.',...well...just because I don't. When I'm feeling really grand and pretentious, I pronounce it as  'Lohs An-jell-eez'. Told you I was grand. But not original. Rent a copy of 'The Long Long Trailer' with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz: Lucy says it the same way.

BTW, I'm nuts, like many highly creative, highly successful, Type 'A personalities, in my opinion.

I turned 50 in October 2012 and that December I landed in jail for a few weeks. To put it sarcastically, my crime was having extremely bad taste in men. That's the simple explanation. Someone I once cared about very much has quite a bit to do with the backstory. I'd blogged about that, and the cyber-cafe society where we played and partied for two years. I'd even gracefully bowed out and admitted defeat as he'd fallen for someone with whom he was more compatible...ok...head over heels, nutsy-koo-koo over. I knew this, but couldn't keep my pride, arrogance and heartbreak in check. I was in deep trouble, and too self-centered to know it.

My time 'away'  released me from a prison I'd built around myself: one of depression, 'stuck-ness', out of control self-medication and spiritual disconnection. I'd lost track of how many friends died and how powerless I felt. Once off that treadmill I was faced with a new set of challenges...

Challenges I still have. I'm finding solace in prayer, meditation and being of service to others. Thus, I am quite grateful for these last five years, though the journey isn't exactly one I'd select.

Truth is stranger than fiction. I look forward to learning some truths about myself and achieving self-realization.

In the meantime, perhaps the lens in which I view and live my life will help you, or at least entertain you.