2/16/16 5:49 pm There are seven days, six hours, and eleven
minutes remaining on my lock down. I sort of just spaced out, staring at that
last sentence for a little while. This is another one of those times where I
really don’t have anything to write about, but it’s been two days and I need to
feed you people or you get angry with me and send me horrible letters. I mean,
that’s not true in any way, but I think it helps motivate me.
I’ve been switching back and forth between watching T.V.
shows and movies on Netflix with a lot of my time. That hasn’t quite gotten old
yet, but it will soon. Tonight I actually made plans to start reading my book
again. It’s astounding how much more alluring reading was when I was in prison.
I’m really glad I didn’t have a T.V. in there because surely I would never have
left my cell.
Why is it so hard for people to understand that I don’t
drink? I’ve worked with the same people for nearly five months. I’ve told them
my story, they’ve seen my agents come in and drug test me, give me
breathalyzers and whatnot. And yesterday as I’m having a normal conversation
with one of them, she says, “You can still drink, right?” Yep, and I can smoke
crack, too. Then they ask when I can start
drinking again, and I just don’t feel like explaining it all to them again, so
I say 2018, and that usually shuts them up. Somebody that knows I’m on I.S.R.
offered to get me high at the Goodwill the other day. Fuck, they’re coming out
of the woodwork. It’s kind of funny, but when people do that stuff, it actually
makes me not want to get spaced-out and tanked-up even more.
The horrible thing about being on this restriction is still
not being able to go hang out with sober people after meetings. You would think
that the agents would want us out there making forward progress in recovery,
but I think this is much like the treatment program at C.I.P. They only care
that you answer their questions correctly so that they can check the box. So I
go to my one-hour meeting, get my card signed, and go home. That’s what they
want, that’s what they get. They have no clue what it really takes for a real,
die-hard drug addict to stay clean. I assure you that it isn’t sitting at home,
and only sitting at home. In fact, you’ll find more often than not, boredom can
be quite the trigger.
10:41pm I just finished a movie called Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, starring Steve Carell
and Keira Knightley. It was really good, and like many other things that happen
in this world, it really got me thinking. I liked how the movie was pretty
honest about a few things. For example, at one point somebody showed up at in a
room with a bag full of heroin and nearly everybody in the room got high. These
aren’t drug addicts, just people experimenting in an end of the world scenario.
Oh, that’s what the movie is about. It’s a love story overall, but it’s pretty
funny throughout.
What would you do with your life if you knew the world was
going to end in 21 days? Would you keep your job and drone on in hopes for the
best? Would you try heroin? Would you find the girl that got away and try to relight
a flame, or possibly just murder her because there are no longer enforcers of
the law? I have no idea what I would do. In fact, I would prefer that if a bolide
were heading our way with plans of complete obliteration, I didn’t know in
advance. Has this post helped anybody in any way? I feel like it was about
nothing, and even though I like that every now and then, I still worry. Oh fuck
am I rambling?
Seven days, one hour, and six minutes until the end of the
wor….. my restriction. I can’t wait to get out!
