Vinnie, Vince, Vincent '98-'15

So much has happened in my life over the past two years. Fortunately for you, I’ve been writing about it and publishing it on the internet for the world to enjoy. Since I will be quite busy cooking for my BBQ tomorrow, I wanted to get this out today. Although I don’t technically have two years sober until tomorrow, I have faith I will make it without a drug or a drink until then.

Two years ago I walked into a courtroom looking exactly like this. In fact, this picture was taken less than 20 minutes after my 50-month sentence was handed down.I had ingested a whole gram of meth just before I walked in to the courthouse, and you can see it in my eyes.

Of course I stole this picture from the world wide web so there are some additions to it but you get the idea, I was a mess.

13 days later I was transported to St Cloud prison where they were able to capture this gem on film, and I was able to track it down for you.

The following pictures are reminders of where my life has been. They are not in any particular order, nor could I possibly remember when or where they are all from. And sadly, these are only about half of the mugshots I have accrued over the past 19 years as a habitual criminal, I'm sure if I spent a little more time I could have tracked them down.  So, here goes...

 This of course is the infamous picture that was all over the news from the meth bust in South Rochester.

 This is a picture of a male model that happens to look like me.

 So, I'm definitely going to grow this hair out and see if maybe I can track this shirt down at a Walgreen's somewhere to recreate this look very soon.

 Uhh. I don't know, man.

 Ditto.

 Fuck me.

 This is my favorite, and was possibly the result of a broken ankle, a fight with a cop, and a little arson charge.

It looks like I was pretty cracked out here, but this is what I looked like in my early teens. 

Then there's this one. It's my other favorite. It was taken on September 6th, 2015 two days before my release from prison. I hope it is the last picture ever taken of me in captivity. There's so much I've been doing and so much I can continue to do to make sure this is where the mugshots stop. 

Tomorrow will mark my two year sobriety anniversary. Some might say that I had an unfair advantage being locked up for the first 15 months, but I don't agree. There were plenty of chances to use or abuse inside, but I chose the road less traveled. I participated in A.A. meetings whenever I could, and I refrained from joining in with the pill-popper trade that goes on inside the walls. I put everything into the six month cognitive behavioral treatment I went through at C.I.P. because I knew that I needed to face this thing head on (Head on, apply directly to the forehead...) if I had any chance of surviving on the outs. 

And here I am.

Easter Interlude

The anxiety started a little over a week ago, when I found out how soon Easter actually was this year. I was finally going to jump over another big hurdle. I’ve been out of prison now for almost seven months and haven’t had the opportunity to attend a gathering with the extended family, and today was that day.

I don’t actually know what it was that I was afraid of. I guess it’s the fact that I haven’t seen them for a decade and I really don’t know that any of them have any idea about where I’ve been. I visualize a hundred conversations all ending abruptly when they ask what I’ve been doing, or why they haven’t seen me in so long. And of course it’s not their fault that they’d be curious, we’re family. My grandparents are wonderful but as far as I know, they didn’t really spread the word about my trip to prison, or my years of alcoholism and drug addiction. And there’s the shame factor for me that didn’t really want to go into any of that at Easter (or ever). I mean who wants to hear such a sad story on Jesus’ Birthday? Or whatever it is.

All the worry and apprehension was for naught. I was greeted with hugs, handshakes, and warmth. And truth be told, I felt some connection with a few of them that it turns out I really missed. And once again I was sitting at the table with my family, laughing, conversing, and feeling all the uneasiness dissipate. I didn’t recognize a few of them as they had all literally aged ten years or so (well, they all probably aged the exact amount of time I just don’t know how long my presence was absent) and were just kids the last time I had seen them.

I think what I realized is that it doesn’t matter where I’ve been for so long, only that I am here now. Not just in this particular situation, but in everything. It took me a while to adapt to life outside the walls, but now that I have been away for a while, I think I can let that place (or places) go. That time of my life is over, and even though I do constantly need to be working on staying in recovery, it’s not so much about not going back, but being able to move forward. And that’s that.

I know I’m in the middle of a series of posts involving my work experience, and that will continue. I just got home from the gathering and wanted to get those words down while the event was still fresh in my mind. I feel really good right now. As if a weight has been lifted off of me. But like many of these weights, it was put there by me. I need to quit that. I’m a work in progress.

A quick side note on progress: I’ve completed 93 of the required 96 hours of community service hours imposed on me. Next week I will be finishing out my last three hours at my usual spot, the Goodwill Outlet. I have found and seen some very interesting things in my time there, and for my last week, I will be purchasing the strangest, or possibly ugliest thing I see and mailing it to a lucky reader. To be in the pool for this, please get your name to me via comment or Facebook by Friday night (April Fool’s Day!) and if you are selected by me at random, you will know soon enough, and I’ll get your address then. MMMkay? I look forward to receiving another plethora of names. The postcard sensational went well.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Beatles

The day began with me writing a blog post, much like I’m doing now. I rarely have the need or the ability to write two posts in one day, but I think today has the right to be explained right now.

My Mother and I have had plans for a while now to see Rajaton perform with the Minnesota Orchestra. The name Rajaton- pronounced RAH-ya-ton, meaning “boundless” in Finnish- perfectly describes the a cappella group’s eclectic style. I directly plagiarized that. I had none of those thoughts as I was listening to their music. More on that later.

I had made reservations at Hell’s Kitchen in Minneapolis for brunch which turned out to be a good idea because the waiting list was an hour and a half long. They also had live music which, in my ears, was very good for bluegrass. The food was a solid 8. The only things that knocked it down were that it came out too quickly, and it was not up to temp. As a starter, I ordered a cup of the Mahnomen Porridge. Native-harvested, hand-parched wild rice, heavy cream, roasted hazelnuts, blueberries, cranberries, and pure maple syrup. Fuck me. One of the best, if not unlikely, combinations I’ve ever eaten. Strangely, it came out two minutes after our food, which we had ordered five minutes after I put my order in for the cup. Whatever. I ordered the crab cake Benedict which, as I said, came out too quickly to be fresh, but the flavors were there, as well as the desired textures of a properly cooked crab cake. Good food and music, I will go back.

We walked through a Target store monstrosity where we looked at things that we did not need, and moseyed on toward Orchestra Hall. We arrived about an hour ahead of schedule so we sat around and people watched for a while, a favorite amusement of mine. The lights flickered, and it was time to take our seats.

I helped the fine people of Target create words with the random assortment of light-up letters they left me. I am so creative!

Very blue, as I stated above.

Smaller, and much bluer than I expected, Orchestra Hall appeared to be filled to capacity in anticipation of hearing one of the best albums of all time, Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The orchestra was tuned, the lights were lowered, and the important people came in, so we clapped. The “conductor” was an Asian woman. Not a very stereotypical Asian though, as she spoke perfect English and quite oddly, wove around only one chopstick which appeared to intimidate the band. Every time she waved it in their direction, their gasps could be heard through their instruments. I don’t know how it all works, but it was kind of neat.

Now, imagine if you will, six Andy Bernard’s. No, five of those and a David Brent, from the British version of the Office. That’s what Rajaton was. Now, imagine if you will, being trapped in an elevator for two hours with these guys where they turn the world’s greatest music into swing jazz, all lead by a well-bred Asian wielding a chopstick. That’s what I endured. Don’t worry, I’m okay.

I cannot say it was all bad. Their a cappella version of Eleanor Rigby was comparable in its own way to the Beatles. They are famous for a reason, and they do have great voices, they just weren’t John and Paul. The orchestra behind them was great, but again, they only followed the true music of the Beatles a few times.

The second set, after the intermission, was made up of several of the greatest hits. If there’s one thing I dislike about cover bands, or bands, it’s their greatest hits. I would love to have heard A Northern Song, Something, or just the orchestra play Flying. Songs that changed my mind about music when I was very young, and lead me to much greater music than Dr. Dre and Eazy-E, although they still have a place in my heart.

Overall, the day was a great one. We had been looking forward to this for a while. The original idea, of course, was squashed by my agents when they put me on restriction for a month the day before we were to celebrate my mom’s birthday by going to see a different show. It’s all behind me now, and I look forward to trying many new things that these cities have to offer. 

This is the first chance I've had in six months to dress up and go out. I'm looking forward to finding somebody to do things like this with more often (no offense, Mom.)