I love to write you, honey. But when I first came back from my five month hiatus I wanted to retire UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE. The editors wanted me to bring it back but I was hesitant. If you’ve been reading Superchief for more than a year then you should remember about a year ago I took over the whole site with my insanity. I spent most of the summer of 2011 making videos about how to become a complete degenerate fuck-up.
OH, Yeah, and I went all the way with that. By the end of the year my dad kicked me out of the house. My uncle was kind enough to let me live in his house out in Vienna, Virginia, because my mother couldn’t stand to see me living on the streets.
_____________________ The thing about UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE was that it was a way for me to really just be honest. Deathly honest, humiliatingly honest … I embarrassed myself and I reviled in it … I eviscerated myself for our readership, cut my guts out … I took a shit in my hand and smeared it all over my face and did a self-portrait (figuratively speaking) ….
… A few months ago I was trying to get a 9 to 5 job. A normal job. So, I started freaking out about insane things I’ve posted, and I erased some of my best old posts. Now I am regretting it. Anyways, the infamous VICE MAGAZINE article with Zipco’s picture of my naked ass will never go away, so there’s no point hiding my past from a future employer …
Needless to say, by the end of 2011 I succeeded in completely destroying my life. I had no job and no friends in DC (where I’m from). I traded in my 2006 Jetta for a 2001 Passat and some cash to buy weed and an iPad. With the left-over monies I came up to New York to throw myself a party at the lofts at Dobbin st. The legendary Andy P. Smith, was kind enough to host the bash in his cavernous cave of cavyness, and yes, it made me feel rather special that Jah Jah from Ninjasonik and all my favorite crazy friends were there. I could almost forget my life was a trainwreck.
At some point during the night the venerable Andy P. Smith and I began head-butting one another, which turned into a full-on battering ram competition. I blacked out right around when people started hitting the swing bolted to the ceiling in the middle of the room. Needless to say, I woke up with the worst headache of my entire life. But at that point waking up at all was a headache. Honestly, I didn’t want to wake up any more. I hated myself. I viewed myself as a waste of a human being. And I just wanted to be high and drunk all the time. I didn’t want to feel anything any more. I went back [home] to DC before I outstayed my welcome at Dobbin street and commenced living at my uncle’s house, smoking weed all day and night in the bungalow next to the pool in the backyard. I remember the crisp cool winter air in my lungs, burning. Eventually I develop a tolerance and I don’t really get high any more. I was just maintaining, trying as hard as possible not to feel or face any consciousness or awareness of my bleak situation. The only good part was that I got to hang out with my little cousin whom i rarely see. It’s amazing how many kids shows you can enjoy when you’re high. By the way, Have You Ever watched YO GABBA GABBA on weed? Some weiiiiirrrrd shit man …
FEBRUARY 14, 2012:
I don’t really remember how it happened but I’m on the plane to rehab with my mom and my sister. I remember having a ton of weed nuggets in my wallet and dumping it out on the ground at the airport. Bye Bye green babies … at some point before I went to rehab I also went nuts on Xanax and booze, blackouts, breaking shit, scaring the shit out of my family. It was ugly. Really ugly. It had to end.
<<The only times I wandered out of the house in months was if I ran out of pot or this one time when I screwed this blonde who hit me up on OKCupid. She had a thing for Marines, of course, I played it up as much as possible, though it wasn’t easy considering it’s been a solid six years now since I wore the uniform. In the end she was like, “Wait, you’re just a pot-head I don’t want to go out with You!”>>>
In the end, “SILVER HILL Hospital” REHAB was basically a really cushy and comfortable, expensive 1 month AA meeting living in a big fancy house with other addicts and alcoholics. You got maid service and excellent food and the staff would pat you on the back for just staying put and staying sober (not flipping out and going and getting fucked up) for a solid month. SOP there is that after a month you’re discharged, but they usually recommend some kind of “after care.” And there’s group therapy and stuff, I don’t really remember I was still sort of in a haze.
After Silver Hill I was sent to a residential treatment program out here in Orange County, California. It was a more intense group therapy setting where you sit around getting grilled by counselors in front of a bunch of other alcoholics and addicts. They definitely call you out on your bullshit. And you must go to some kind of 12-step meeting every day. After four months in the residential treatment I was pretty burnt out on the whole goddamn therapy deal. I parted ways with the treatment program. I was sort of sick of them and they were sort of sick of me. But it was generally amicable. And the point was accomplished. I’m sober. I get the point. Don’t drink or use no matter what. I moved into a nice “sober living” house here in Costa Mesa, which is not on the water but just a stone throw away from the peninsula of Newport Beach. Basically it’s just a nice house on a quiet street in Sunny Southern California. The only difference between our house and others is that we don’t drink and we get piss-tested once every three days, which I’m thankful for. I’m comfortable in my sobriety, but it’s a good added security measure, if you will.
So it’s been more than six months now since I dumped out that weed onto the ground at National Airport [in DC] and I have not consumed a drink or a drug.
Woop de doo! I guess I’m supposed to feel proud of myself. But I’m still kinda lazy. I’m putting things in order to go back to college (for the umpteenth time) using my veterans benefits. (At least dodging bullets in Iraq paid off in the end!)
Hopefully, if I stay sober it will be a more successful endeavor this time. It will help if I’m not stoned and drunk as shit every day. I’m not one of those people that can “multitask” like all y’all at SUPERCHIEF. That just ain’t me. Trust me, I tried. A couple times. Okay, many times.
Now, of course I can live through you all vicariously! (Thanks to XAVIER VEAL’s photographic artistry.)
22 AUG 2012Tweet