Habitual behavior is tediously redundant for everyone but the addict. There is such solace in chemical submergence... that special cup of coffee, cream cake, or spoon full of coke. Life lingers in limbo. What was ailing is lost momentarily to the sweet sailing of intoxication and the slumber of bloated satiation.
Life loses its edge and that is good, sort of. There is this surreal waltz with destiny. Some sacred land of nothingness, a toxic paradise of self-induced blindness. Not here nor there. Neither fresh nor tediously bland. Just high on chemical improprieties that linger in the blood, poisoning tomorrow into a thousand yesterdays.
To be successful at failure, when one has so much given by God, means a lot of accumulated bad karma. Or, to put it another way, you have to have a lot of self-hate to mess up such a sweet deal, as I had handed to me. To take a full house and lose to a pair spells low self-esteem and a proclivity to not pay attention.
But now my rooster has come home to a hen house already laid vacant by the fox. My feet ache from the gout, the fat rolls uncomfortably over my belt, my gums no longer support my teeth, and I can not imagine how I will manage.
Survival is hardly a virtue when what remains is but a decadent skin atop a darkened soul. What needs to happen seems so impossible with such debris. But the plan is always there. The yellow brick road waits. The straight and narrow sits undisturbed by all this self-depreciation because I have always known in the moment what was best.
The trouble lies in the habit. Knowing is not enough. Doing the down and dirty, the sweaty persistent path of trudging onward... That's the killer. Every junky knows where the cold void of endless sacrifice leads. It leads to the heaven of other people. Allowing me to be happy, like they do in the movies, with solo skiing and low cut evening gowns, would under cut my own depressing predictions of normalacy. I'd have to live in some kind of holy perfection of self control and assertion. I'd have to be the good guy endlessly. Because that is what it would take to make me thin again.
Dharma Deli Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,
13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25
Contact the author