hotel california: a study in alcoholism

he's no longer in my bed. he's no longer in my sight line. he's no longer of my interest.

but did he really need to ruin hotel california in the process?

on a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

isn't this absolute heaven.

up ahead in the distance, i saw a shimmering light

substances alter perceptions.

my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

i had to stop for the night

binge bliss; blackout.

there she stood in the doorway

i hear the mission bell

temptation's calling.

and i was thinking to myself,

this could be heaven or this could be hell

crossing the line; loss of innocence.

then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

there were voices down the corridor

i thought i heard them say...

welcome to the hotel california

such a lovely place

such a lovely face

the blush of new love.

plenty of room at the hotel california

any time of year

you can find it here

the life of an alcoholic is a 24-7 party.

how they dance in the courtyard

sweet summer sweat

some dance to remember

some dance to forget

addicts run circular patterns; each one has their own reason for using.

so i called up the captain

'please bring me my wine'

he said 'we haven't had that spirit here since

nineteen sixty nine'

living in the past; maybe a past trauma has arrested development.

they living it up at the hotel california

what a nice surprise

bring your alibis

party reference, and a note of the lying that is typical of substance use.

mirrors on the ceiling

the pink champagne on ice

and she said, 'we are all just prisoners here, of our own device'

addicts sometimes run off the deep end of opulence, of their own free will; alas, there's no longer anyone else to blame.

and in the master's chambers

they gathered for the feast

massive binge.

they stab it with their steely knives

but they just can't kill the beast

the throes of addiction; the failure of attempted sobriety.

last thing i remember, i was

running for the door

i had to find the passage back

to the place i was before

fear and pain return the addict to the mercy of the substance; feels paranoia and seeks immediate relief.

'relax,' said the night man

we are programmed to receive

you can checkout any time you like

but you can never leave

you can think you're in control, tell yourself you're in control; you'll see what's in control in due time.

how can anyone who gets wasted and plays hotel california on their acoustic guitar deny that they're an alcoholic?

maybe he's always been my pet

i'm a mutt, inversely to my kitty. he's white underneath with a dark cloak -- like a lamb in wolves's clothing. i'm some kind of lower-class folk parading around in a deity's facade. but as masks often allow, the eyes give it all away.

i've set my desktop to a photo of my kitty, now recently deceased. i sit still and look at his face, and through all his fluff i can see the definitive feline skull -- a direct descendant of egpyt's domesticated companion. he could have been my cat in ancient egypt.

maybe he was. maybe he's always been my furry little guy.

this made me think of the woman who reads for me -- she once mentioned that one of my helper spirits is an egyptian named ali. all of a sudden, one of my childhood stuffed animals, a white cat with a pink nose, is showing in my mind as significant. significant.

maybe this is my sign that no matter how many trials and tribulations are experienced along the way, trusted and loved ones can always be found. my beloved kittyfur has been there in the past. he's beside me always.

weed for a reason

i got to the point where no matter how much weed i smoked, i plateaued at a mid-level high at best. i kept preparing myself for the cold-turkey dip. it's gonna happen, and i'm not giving in -- i'm not texting my guy. when i run out, then i'll be out, and that's what's going to happen.

maximum estimation of sobriety, roughly a week. not so inclined to believe it, although giving it a think makes it appear as so. and what a terrible week.

smoking weed ceases my ego voice and lets me hear from higher sources. it's been a week of emotional response to petty trivialities. a week of what was traditionally my personal hell.

when i'm stoned, i think that smoking weed is logical and not that big of a deal. when i'm not stoned, i guilt myself over the monetary aspect of getting stoned regularly. but feeling peace at the end of each day is a blessing -- the universe probably brought me to weed for a reason.

the kissing thing

the fact that he coaxed me into giving him a handjob before he ever attempted to kiss me says quite a bit about his character.

new altitudes

thinking about traveling to see himalayan kingdoms

flashes of my recent dreams that looked like the scenery in kung fu panda -- certainly high mountain altitudes. it looked wonderful.

could this be the inspiration i need to mend some unharmonious vibes i felt at a place some time ago? or more in preparation for an adventure of ascending altitude?

he's reckless

there's a guy in my bed, of my interest, and yet i'm standing out in the stairwell smoking weed in the middle of the night -- returning first to put my thoughts into text before rejoining him in rest.

he's reckless, and but i'm pretty damn not scared.

let your disappointment be your inspiration

that thought came to me in the bath this afternoon. all my hurt feelings come down to the deep regret of disappointment. one of those recurring themes in my life -- obliterated by disappointment.

but i've been there before, and i've felt the deflating blow when my wildest dreams weren't even remotely realized. it feels really not good. and now i think i'm at a point where i know i have a decision to make -- i'm not automatically a victim that must suffer a sentence of grief. i know that feeling that grief is as much a decision as allowing myself to recognize the disappointment, and move on.

when i was in the bath, over and over in my mind, use my disappointment as inspiration, disappointment as inspiration. my subconscious, that i can tap into somewhat when stoned, wanted to subvert the situation by turning disappointment into inspiration.

at the least, if i had any previous doubts, i should let this disappointment provide me with a fresh perspective.