!I for intoxication
---
agk's diary
26 April 2022 @ 15:33
---
written on Samsung Galaxy J3 (2016)
via ConnectBot in bed while hair dries, baby
thumps around and quacks, and dog growls
---

Evy and I went to see Senora May for our wedding
anniversary. We brought the baby and our friend's
ten year old son. The bridge is still out, They ran
a school bus into town from the county highschool.

We got to the bleachers set up in the hot sun on
courthouse square. She played a song, then---
surprise!---traded places with her husband, Tyler
Childers. My brother's a big fan of his. We never
seen him perform.

Tyler looked hunted, hollow, and mean. We didn't
expect that energy, it's not how he sounds on the
radio. His energy built as his set went on. The
bleachers packed once word got out he was playing.

"Keep your nose to the grindstone and out of the
pills," Tyler sang. Evy told me he got sober last
November or the one before. He drank water between
songs. We bought Senora's new record off her merch
table after Tyler put down his guitar. We ate bar-
b-q sandwiches in the shade of the bank drive thru.

I got sober almost fifteen years ago. There are
lots of paths out of the destructive hate bliss of
addiction. Total abstinence 12-step style isn't the
only one. My brother quit meth and gangsterism to
be a good dad, but drinks his Guinness. Many paths.

Many paths into it, too. When I first got serious
about being intoxicated, I already lived mostly
alone in an apartment without utilities in an aban-
doned 4-story building. My ex-boyfriend Fetus
smoked weed and listened to the punk band Crass
on his walkman every night. Our relationship was
pragmatic.

I fell in love with my new bf Mongezi. He was about
the best thing in my life. I loved to cook for him,
make him Rooibus tea or hot chocolate, sit at his
feet, listen to him talk.

He had a prosthetic leg due to a landmine and oral
opioid/NSAIDs (hydrocodone/paracetamol). He was a
binge drinker, and sometimes disappeared for a few
days. I never let him in my apartment when he was
drunk. I fixed up another in the building for him,
with a mattress and access to the bucket toilet. I
probably should have kept a jug of water in there,
but didn't think to.

One time Mongezi was gone, maybe in jail. I was
alone and crazy with fear and memory. I got into
his pills and beer, smashed empties in the gutted-
out side of the building. I felt the skin of my
face go numb, unwrapped a scalpel, and opened an
incision down my cheek. My suffering changed to
detached fascination, then apathy and sleep.

I didn't stay high all the time after that, but til
almost 15 years ago, it was an option when I felt
lonely, hateful, ashamed, bored, hungry, overwhelm-
ed, sick, like celebrating, hopeless, paranoid, or
crazy with fear and memory again. A year or so
after Hurricane Katrina I was fucked up every day
and took a lot of money I should probably pay back.

Sobered up, I went to meetings every day, and still
go sometimes. I got a sponsor, and still have one,
even though we don't talk much. I formally worked
some steps, but not all of them. I never made
direct amends to most people I hurt. But damned if
I didn't quit and stay quit, and if I didn't find
better things to do with feelings than smash them.

And damned if I'm not a pretty good mom. Evy asked
what I'm writing. "Tyler and Senora fixing to have
a baby," Evy said. Senora's canceling her shows
for the next year. It's probably why she got off-
stage after just a few songs and sent him to take
her place. Might be why Tyler looked haunted.

Big changes for them, sleepless nights and joyous
days. Babies are good news. Senora and Tyler will
be good parents.