Sorry for the long delay in posting anything, but sometimes life gets in the way of self-indulgent hobbies, which if you’re reading this you most likely understand. We hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: nothing in this post reflects the views of the Department of Defense, the Army, the Marines, etc. This is the personal opinion of the writer.
Some of my soldiers are going to the bar tonight. I am not. It’s a weeknight. All I can think about is the war I’m missing, the war before, and my wife at home. I’m not in the mood, so I’ll sit here in my room and watch television. We are deployed.
Here in Qatar you’re allowed three drinks a day, every day. There are two bars to choose from: a sports bar and a lounge. The lounge is closer to our dorms, so we go there most often. Continue reading
Of late, I haven’t been able to write. I suppose you could label it a writer’s block – or what is commonly referred to as “writer’s block” – but the reality of the situation is more convoluted than what that simple term seems to suggest: that the inability to commit words to paper is, in itself, the root of the problem and not a symptom of something a little deeper and more complex. As if “writer’s block” is some grossly unthinking virus; something you catch like bad luck or the flu. Something that happens to you through no fault of your own. I wish that were the case, for it would seem to indicate an easy “recovery” – as if the block would effortlessly dissipate as easily as it came on. I know that is not going to happen. Because it isn’t something that just happened, but something I myself cultivated with weariness and hate and disillusion. It is a symptom of a deep attitudinal sickness that creeped in so slowly I hardly noticed it until it was in full bloom.
I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly I was sick again. AM sick. Sick of acquaintances playing the role of “friend.” Sick of fellow commuters and their petty anger. Sick of playing the dominance game with other men. Sick of bosses and their entitlement to my free time. Sick of probation officers with their suspicion and mock concern. Sick of a society that while screwing you demands the facade of a good attitude (It’s cool. I UNDERSTAND I am often going to be forcibly penetrated from time to time. It is what it is. But don’t hold me down and fuck me and then tell me we’re making love.) I am sick of pretending as if I am not nauseated by everything. Continue reading
To change a behavior you have to change the thinking behind it. More specifically: the attitude you hold towards that behavior or the emotion that comes to mind when you think of engaging in an activity. This is something that “recovering” drug addicts commonly work on. When you think of doing your drug of choice, instead of letting your mouth water at the thought of how good it would feel, you try your best to apply the brakes and think of the reality of the aftermath: i.e. how much shit you will fuck up. Continue reading
Years ago, during another life, my lover spoke of the “unknown/invisible” number hanging over every drug addicts head: Continue reading