|-the author, clad in beer saturated maroon shirt, playing beer pong at Bradley University, May 2005|
Not even close.
Physiology: Intermittent pastures of irritability. Blood pressure seems to have detumesced as has my waist line. My heart no-longer feels like it’s vying for first place in the Brooklyn national double-dutch competition. Still have some sort of cyst cosigning tightness in my right jaw but maybe I just slept on it funny. I went on to my moms on my day off to dry out and I think Cece the schizophrenic cat slept on my face (That explains all those hairballs I’ve been coughing up). The right hand side of my ribs no longer feels punched or bruised. I haven’t felt the subtle-tingle that usually almost always seismically arpeggios into the full-blown shakes in about 12 hours.
Gradually the lethargy that becomes anxiety one minute and reverts back to languor the next is also starting to wane.
Rungs scaled (i.e. conquering shit that could more aptly be classified as personal fear): Today is the first day since I can remember that I didn’t hightail it to the liquor store the moment my paycheck was freshly deposited in the bank or head straight to a bar after work on a Friday morning (Country skillet Breakfast with a beer or five at either Last Chance Bar or the 801 club in Bartonville is the best) flushing away arable funds into the oak altar of the neighborhood tap, into emptied beer receptacles, into fruity shots that look like plastic Barbie pregnancy tests for incessant 140 character twittering trollops in a futile endeavor to get laid.
I have nothing against AA. I did not want to go and rationalized every excuse not to amble the three petty blocks down the street and attend the meeting. I'm glad I went. Nothing moves me more than being surrounded by individuals who want change in their lives and who desire nothing more than to grow and to somehow, seek to spiritually till that growth in the soil of others.
As I was walking out of AA I noticed a skeletal pamphlet stand that looks like it was left over from the late 70's. There was only a few pamphlets arrayed but on the bottom of the stand was the omnipotent masonary-traingle eye of the AA motto followed by the words, LET LITERATURE CARRY THE MESSAGE, TOO.
I simply smiled.