A little over 24 hours since I last pulled a needle out of my forearm, and I think I am blessed with the gift of insight. As Down By Law plays near me, I think of those halcyon days when I wasn't using and was undergoing a massive metamorphisis from closed clam to vibrating oyster. Not a great analogy, but it gets across the closed/open image without crossing into the unwanted territory of sexual innuendo. Or does it?
As Groucho Marx said, "I wouldn't join any club that would have me for a member". And so with my solar day of insight I tell myself that this si me and women. That I will never be happy in love because I could never stay with a woman who would accept me. The only kind of woman I can tolerate is one I can convince myself doesn't love me. As soon as I think they love me for who I am, I would break off relations, as they say, asap. Such was the case with Ms LM back in 1995. She was unabashed to tell me her truest deepest feelings, and for her honesty I rejected all she was. I contrived events to ensure we would no longer continue. Pathetic, the kind of thing you learn about in your first week at a rehab I guess. I've only done detox, never had to do the whole rehab brain hard-erase rewrite. But they give you a no-obligation intro, well they did a decade ago, or more, when I spent a week at Biala, when it still did detox, before it said "Fugghit" and just handed out needles for junkies to bang up with outside.
We learnt about the different base psychological makeups; tap-dancer, doormat etc etc. I can't remember if everyone fell into one of these 16 types or if it was just us fuckups. Maybe there's one more category, for the straights, where 99.9% of the world slots in. (Note to future self reading this: I am not this dumb, I'm just not being too obvious in my irony here.)
So am I destined to semi-fulfillment? 15 years of using is up in a few short weeks, there's no strong indicator that I will break out of this cycle of use/more use/use before I get that shot that stops all beats and makes my fixtures fade.
At least I know I haven't lost the capacity to be surprised, so that gives me a little hope.