"Broken Record"

    Had not a senseless, drunken and violent crime against me broken out all my front teeth (and broke my jaw and punctured my lungs), I might have let my teeth rot further as I drank each endlessly continuing drink. A blessing in disguise, I guess, but it was one big mother fuckin' disguise.

 

    I need this damned jukebox brain reprogrammed, man. Livin' on bar snacks. Same old, broken refrain. Arm broken, needle rusted, record warped, spinning, wobbling, warped.

 

    Wednesday. Thursday. Friday? WTF.

(Surimi): You both give Jim too much credit. When he speaks with any kind of authority, his knowledge is merely a pretense, a shield, another form of denial. Not denial of his alcoholism, but his denial about not knowing a whole hell of a lot more than anyone else. A defensive smokescreen.

 

    One doesn't have to be talking of God to come off as "preachy".

 

    Jim's pedestal is stemware with a martini glass base.

 

    It's all part of his recovery process, finding his own sober middle ground.


from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 75)