"All I want," she sighed, "is..."

Let me start off by thanking you for your understanding, advice and support. Further, I'm feeling a little grayer after so much blackness. Getting a very small cold that's kept me away from the nursing home has also given me a small space -- very small because I've been sleeping like it's my new profession and I am not abstinent. There hasn't been room for the Great American Novel in the gap my cold gave me, or even room to do the laundry or bathe every day. But I'm in less despair than a week ago.

Just before I set out on the afternoon dog rounds, I was sitting in my kitchen not enjoying the taste of my coffee and whining to myself. "I don't even know what I want," I said of today's soporific atmosphere.

That was immediately and transparently one of the stupidest things I've ever said.

I want to be abstinent, I retorted.

I want a bunch of money.
I want to be thin.
I want to start chapter three of my novel.
I want to get Pam's situation under control.
I want some energy.
I want to be in [my 12-step] Program.

Those were the items that came to mind at the moment. Here are some more:

I want to live in a home where I can give a dinner party.
I want my body not to ache.
I want a television that's not snowy and a DVD player in both my computer and my television that works.
I want Barak Obama to win the election. I want him to get us the hell out of Iraq. I want him to make Brian Schweitzer Secretary of Energy.
I want to go on a real vacation.
I want my debt to be less that five thousand dollars.
I want to know if my Missoula friends are still my friends.
I want lilac bushes.

I have no illusions that these things will make me happy-with-a-capital-H-Happy, but they would certainly promote comfort, satisfaction, community, existential meaning, and hope.

What have I done as I've slowly (and I do mean slowly) pulled myself up out of this dark place? I ordered most of my Christmas presents. I figured out how to make some stuff on Cafe Press. I've given reasonably good dog. I've eaten what I wanted, or thought I wanted, at night.

As I look at this list, I'm struck by how achievable they are. I'm pretty powerless over Pam's recovery in and of itself but I can coordinate things to facilitate it. I'm quite powerless over the election and I wish the Obama people would stop emailing me forty times a day to "call my friends and talk them into voting" for him. They have in their records my zip code. I live in a zip code that sports Obama placards in twentieth-story apartments; I don't know anyone here who's not voting for him and I won't risk yet another family schism by talking about it in certain quarters.

I'm utterly powerless over the appointment of Schweitzer to a new cabinet.

I'd say the big stumbling block in the way of everything is lack of abstinence and lack of energy.

I wonder if they're the same thing.

Heart of hearts

What a strange expression -- "in my heart of hearts". I'm doing a lot of if-only's & I'd-be-happy-if's these days, a branch of frustration that comes from the plodding my book has come to, the pain the book is about, & fear-fear-fear.

In my heart of hearts I wish I was working on my poor neglected novel.

Frustration is such an appetizer. Even civilian friends recount with some shame that when work is hardest their default setting is "a little something would be good right now".

This morning I sat in my kitchen in the chair that just fits between the cupboard & the oven (I have to move it to use the oven), drinking coffee & having a smoke while Daisy lolled in my pillows. I've been talking to instead of begging God lately. I may rename him Buddy as a consequence of this because I've sort of been making him into a best friend -- the buddy a heterosexual man can be 1% of the time or a gay man can be about 75% of the time.

I was thinking about the boyz who are or aren't distantly in my life right now. I could reel any one of them in closer. Buddy sighed. I sighed back. I don't need to think about that today. Their distance is their business & if I let the distances each has go there will be more room for a Better One if the time is right, or more room for one of them to make his own decision about me.

Glad we cleared that up. Did Buddy think I could be abstinent today? Uh-huh -- as long as I don't snatch that commitment back. What about the book? I have a problem with the chapter I'm working on, or maybe a couple of problems. The content is solid but how does it pertain to relapse per se & what is the plotline of it in regards to the book as a whole? What am I writing today?

Buddy & I came up with two thoughts as regards all of that. OK, I said. Good job. Glad we had this little talk. Time to take the dog for a walk.

& I promptly forgot those two essential thoughts.

Now if Buddy is my best friend as well as having who's-been-naughty/who's-been-nice memory, don't you think he'd remind me of what we were talking about?

Because it's put a damper on my day, those missing insights or ideas. One of those boyz called. & I'm starving.