for December 25, 2009
What I remember about the end of 2007.
I left Los Angeles after going broke: a pointless chase after nothing, all the miracles that I predicted occurring, losing my sobriety and sanity, and being forced out. My sister was still alive pulling her usual crap behind my back. I had already summoned the sign to finish her. Obviously, she was not cooperating. I fought with my Dad over the phone.
I arrived in the Phoenix metro area with Malibu and San Diego ablaze. The places where I had gotten burned, were burning. I did not tell anyone to start fires but the symbolism was not lost on me.
Soon, I put the “Classic Jesus” sticker on my car.
I was sober about two months in TLC’s Southern House. It was not easy. Heavily in debt, for me, my fuse was extremely short, I still cared about everyone I could and waited for outside help. I had frequent visions. I was slowly gaining the respect of my housemates and co-workers, but people outside treated me like a loser. The halfway house reminded me of a cross between “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” and “Lord of the Flies.” Daily high drama, it seemed. Privately, my brothers in this little oasis in the midst of chaos, told me they understood what was going on but were a bit mystified about what to do about it. They often confessed their sins to me directly, sought my advice, and the Charades continued. I did my best to help and lead by example. People told me they understood what was going on. I warned them Cyclone Nargis was coming. I sold out all the girls on the Rushakoff List.
I heard more Jesus jokes. Some people said “He is risen” instead of “Good Morning” and things like that. It was really hard to come to grips with reality but I fought back the depressing thoughts by staying busy and making some more jokes myself. I explained some of the clues in the movies we watched. We talked a lot of football.
I had hope things would get better. I had not planned on going back to California yet.