Addiction
I first met Bob the bum as he rolled out a foam mat in my office building’s lobby.
I was heading to a local pub for a bite to eat with four coworkers after having Friday post-work beers upstairs. We were all laughing, riding a steady buzz as we rounded the last flight of stairs leading into the lobby.
“Hey, man. You can’t sleep in here. They’re going to kick you out.”
The old man looked up at me. The wrinkles on his face blended to form deep crevices until a smile emerged. “Oh, sorry. I was just going to relax for a minute. I’ll be on my way right now.” He began hurriedly rolling up his mat, looking up every other second with a smile. My coworkers and I stepped out into the crisp February winter. I zipped my jacket right up to my chin, and watched as the condensation from my breath rose toward the street lights. I kept checking back over my shoulder waiting for the homeless man to emerge from the front doors.
At the end of the block, I stopped. I turned to the girl beside me, “I’m just going to run back and check on that old guy. He never came out. I’ll meet you guys at the pub.” She was a little confused, but nodded before I jogged in the opposite direction.
The lobby was empty. I was positive I hadn’t missed him come out. I ran up the stairs two at a time, looking down the hallway on each floor. Our office was on the sixth floor and top floor of the building. By the fifth floor I was starting to doubt my sanity until I ran up the last flight of stairs. The homeless man sat on his mat on the small landing where the stairs made their final pivot. We startled each other. I had to brace myself against the wall to avoid stomping on his legs.
The man began apologizing again, rolling up his mat.
“Look.” I said, catching my breath. “I don’t personally give a shit if you want to sleep here, but if other tenants see you, they might call the cops.”
“Yes, of course.” He was fastening the mat to his backpack. “I was only going to rest for fifteen minutes. Just shut my eyes. I’ll be going.” There was a lot of fear in the man’s eyes. His stale brown pupils darted from side to side.
“Hey, how about you join me for a quick beer in my office?” I still had four beers in the fridge. We had couches for lounging too.
“Oh, no, no. I couldn’t do –”
“Come on,” I insisted. “It’ll keep you out of the cold for a bit. I’m in no rush.”
It was sitting on the office couch that he introduced himself as Bob, offering a fist pound in place of a handshake, which is common among street people, even the oldest ones. It’s a courtesy extended to a germ-conscious population so they don’t have to awkwardly cringe while shaking a filthy hand.
I learned a lot about Bob that night. We ended up talking for almost three hours. He told me about life on the street. Showed me his crack pipe. Tried to smoke his crack pipe but I wouldn’t let him. He talked about how he had a wife and a job as a manager at A&W but his wife left him. A year after she did, he hired a prostitute outside of a bar. She gave him his first hit of crack. From there he was homeless in less than a year.
I told Bob he was going to kill himself doing crack. He acknowledged it and said he wouldn’t have it any other way. While refreshing my beer, I noticed all the empty bottles under the office kitchen sink. There was at least forty dollars worth. I suggested he return on Monday to bring them back to the bottle depot for cash. The prospect excited him considerably. I said my goodbyes to Bob and showed up just in time to watch my coworkers pay their tab at the restaurant.
Bob came by the following Monday. I had forgotten my new assistant was starting that day, so it was a little awkward explaining to her the crazy homeless man in the office was a friend of mine. Bob managed to take all the bottles while only making one inappropriate joke to a female coworker, something along the lines of “you’re sexy. Is your mother available?” I both laughed and cringed.
I didn’t see Bob for a number of months, until late in the summer. I was walking down a busy pedestrian street in the morning to mail a letter, and there was Bob shoving along a wheelbarrow full of his belongs. When I say shoving, I don’t mean he was lifting and pushing the wheelbarrow. Rather, he would lift the wheelbarrow up and propel it forward as hard as he could. The wheelbarrow careened down the roadway, corporate drones diving out of the way, before grinding to an abrupt stop. The only thing more surreal was the manic old man chasing behind it, waving his arms in the air ready to do it over again.
I tapped Bob on the shoulder and asked him if he remembered me. He looked through vacant but crazed eyes until he dug up the memory. “Yes, yes, from the office. I do remember. Do you have a buck I can borrow?”
“Nah, I don’t. But I’ll take you in there,” I said, pointing to a McDonalds, “and buy you a coffee.”
“Oh excellent. That would be great.”
Bob and I sat down at the table. I bought him a couple of burgers too since he weighed no more than the wrappers that contained them. I once again prodded him about the intimacies of his life. He repeated many of the same things from our previous encounter. At one point he stood up from the table. The patrons watched in terror as he marched around the restaurant shouting undecipherable nonsense. I corralled him back to the table. He let out a ferocious laugh and asked if he was embarrassing me. I reassured him the morning McDonalds crowd was not a demographic that concerned my reputation. We joked for a few more sentences, until Bob raised his gaze from my eyes to above my head. I looked behind me but nothing was there. He was only staring off into the distance. His voice trembled, dropping almost to a whisper.
“After my wife left me in the seventies, I checked into a loony bin.” He clenched a fist, raising it to his chin. “They put duct tape around my wrists and legs to pin me to the bed. When I screamed, they duct taped my mouth shut.” He slammed his fist so hard on the table that coffee jumped out of the cup. Tears filled his eyes. He shouted, “For fucking weeks and months at a time, they did this. I only wanted help.”
The last sentence was primal in a way that activated the human startle response in others. Several customers sat frozen and wide-eyed as we picked our stuff up and left. Outside Bob told me he needed to get high, before giving me a fist-pound and shuffling down the street with his wheelbarrow.
Recently I gave standup comedy a shot. Ben Corman came up to Calgary to help me go through with it. The pressure of preparing my first five minute set, and fighting off the nerves associated with getting on stage, led me into a terrible bender. I drink a lot. Too much in my opinion, but not so much that it ruins my life. I have no problem admitting I have a social drinking addiction. I am much more successful in a group setting after a beer or ten. But, not until the latest binge have I experienced the frightening physical addiction that comes with compounding drunks. Hangovers so severe that I need to grasp a morning cocktail with two shaking hands to avoid dropping the glass as I swigged it back. Basking in the almost immediate relief that followed the burning in my throat.
After a week of responsible heavy drinking, I strung together four days of morning to night boozing, usually upwards of sixteen hours a day. My time to get on stage kept getting pushed back a day. I staved off the impending hangover with more alcohol. There was no relief during the restless sleeps, except to start all over again in the morning. Finally, after successfully performing on stage, it came time to pay the piper and sober up. Deep down I knew I was in trouble, but after an entire day of barely being able to keep myself from throwing up, I went to bed. More tossing and turning. My internal temperature flipping from burning hot to shivering cold. Hours passed until I finally managed to drift into sleep, or more accurately an unconscious paralysis. In my state, I experienced hallucinations so vivid and terrifying that I’m astounded the human mind could even conceive them. All the while taking place in a setting that mirrored my real-life bedroom exactly. In the nightmare, I screamed for somebody to save me, wake me up, help me but, despite being right in front of me, they couldn’t hear. Then my eyelids snapped open. I lay in the bed, perfectly still, sheets torn off around me and in a cold sweat. Every muscle in my body ached for another drink but I was thankfully sane enough to realize that it was booze that had made me into a shivering wreck in the first place.
A few days later, and I feel like my normal self again. The addiction demons have lost their grip on me after an agonizing withdrawal period. I was lucky too. I’ve read the stories about detoxes so severe it leads hardened alcoholics to comas or death.
A week after that morning McDonalds encounter with Bob, I attempted to find him by scouring the homeless population that lived around the downtown shelter. I was met with many laughs and a few threats as I asked around for Bob, the haggard old man who was likely pushing a wheelbarrow. I walked down the long sorrowful lineup of people waiting to get into the shelter for a night’s rest. No Bob. People glowered at me through gritted teeth as my untorn jeans and clean t-shirt identified me as an Other. I gave up well after the sun had set, furious when a twenty-something vagrant attempted to distract me while his father, clumsily and obviously, tried to get at my wallet.
I saw Bob about a month later downtown. He was across the street, unable to keep his head up, wearing a red santa hat with a brim only a shade grayer than his skin. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his mouth revealing a skeletal torso so thin I could almost see his spine through his stomach. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. That was the last time I ever saw him.
Bob made it very clear that he intended to die on Calgary streets. I’m certain, by now, he has accomplished his goal. After tumbling so easily, albeit unintentionally, into physical addiction trying to prepare myself for something so simple as performing standup for five minutes in front of strangers, I have a whole new empathy for addicts. I can only imagine how fast it must happen when people have real physical, emotional, or psychological trauma to deal with.
It’s no secret that hardcore addiction consumes the human mind. The person smashing your car window for crack money or descending into insurmountable debt for beer is not the same person who took his or her first misstep down the slippery slope. Yet, beneath the whole mess a lost soul still resides. One that started out trying to keep the demons at bay by digging a hole and kept digging until they became hopelessly lost in an infinite canyon. Confronting those demons is hard enough when sound of mind. But tack on a body that rebels with every cell, and a mind that dedicates every neuron to self-loathing, it’s no wonder people are ready to kamikaze their lives into an early grave.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget Bob. Nor will I forget the too-real nightmare from the other night. Both represent a helplessness that reflects the fragility of human sanity.
It was the legendary Hunter S. Thompson who wrote “The Edge… There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.” Truer words have never been written. But when it comes to an edge as steep and treacherous as addiction, if you’re lucky enough to grab a branch and pull yourself back up, or have a friend or loved one grab you by the collar and heave you on up – you best count your blessings, taking the lesson to heart. The edge represents irresponsibility. It represents a disrespect for human limitations. And it is an interesting place to reside. As I mentioned, I like a good drink, as long as I’m controlling the drink and not the other way around. If you tumble down the canyon and lose respect for the demon, then you’ve lost the game forever because your choices no longer include moderation. The decision becomes binary – either abstinence or self-destruction, and no one wants that.
Forget about chasing the dragon. The real game is taming the lion. Because as soon as that lion devours you, the circus is over.
Good shit.
@Goose
Thanks dude. Been a while since I put something up. Corman and I have immersed ourselves in the comedy world here. Between that and work, I have hardly had a spare moment.
This is a really good one, and not just because I have a walk-on part.
@Marjorie
Thanks!
For the record Marjorie was the one who so graciously put up with Bob’s odd sense of humor as he hit on her with the “is your mother available?” joke. She also puts up with me on a regular basis. In other words, she deserves a Nobel prize in patience and understanding.
Now that is some really powerful writing. Raw, deep, and visceral. It’s one of the better blog stories I’ve read; not just on SubtleDig, but any site.
@Aint
That’s reassuring to hear. I took a couple of stories that were personal to me (Bob and the drinking) and tied them together into a common thread. I think it’s an important step to growing as a writer — trying to get people to connect with what’s important to me. You’re a tough critic, so if this one worked for you, it reassures me that I’m heading in the right direction.
What the fuck is this shit?
I want Tucker’s failed tour stories!!
@My cock
Not worry, brother. Them shits is coming soon.
Fucking great entry man.
I really, really like this entry, and can relate on multiple levels.
Well written, great delivery, excellent point.
@Dayvan
That’s awesome. I’m psyched at the response the entry has received so far. If you can relate to it, you’re good people. We forget that the best part of being human… is being human.
So I actually just read it, not bad Griffin. I am onto you about your stories though.
Is it real? Can you have proof from Mcdonald’s employees that this homeless guy really did that?
All in all refreshingly decent
@MikeHawk
I will take refreshingly decent any day. And of course it’s real. I wouldn’t lie to you folks.
tremendous story, loved it.
@Dave
Many thanks for giving it a read.
@Not Ballsack
You don’t want to be Ballsack. Moving back home to your mom’s basement will be so embarrassing. And then think of all the hours you’ll have to waste fighting with people on the internet.
@Goats
Really appreciate the positive comments. Makes it all worth while. I hope my success with this article carries over to the tour pieces.
@MikeHawk
Don’t forget about the MSPaint cartoons. Also gold.
@Jennifer
My favorite comments are those that inspire a personal reaction. But yeah, on one hand it’s hard to sympathize at all with an alcoholic — especially if there is not mental illness involved. But, while it doesn’t justify their actions, it’s important to understand they perspective and how messed up they are. So many unresolved issues, that if they just asked for help it would be so much easier than blasting the problems with booze.
You get better and better the more you open yourself up and give it a personal spin.
Oh and can I be Ballsack now? Yes? Oh goodie! FAG!
Real Good one Griffin. Very good post! Interesting, gripping, and sadly, too true…As much as I have an addiction to the haterade for all things TMAX, which drew me to this site initially, I actually prefer these types of pieces…Far more intellectually stimulating than the Tmax tour recap.
Goats don’t kid yourself.
TMAX tour recap is gold
I had a very visceral reaction to this post. It has a haunting quality to it.
I grew up with an alcoholic stepfather and have seen several close friends spiral downward into addiction.
I think it is a subject that everyone can relate to and you gave your readers a poignant glimpse into your own experiences with the subject.
Griffin,
You wrote, “But yeah, on one hand it’s hard to sympathize at all with an alcoholic…” I completely disagree with this. I am all for laughing at fucked-up, the more fucked-up, the better. As someone who has done almost every drug up to smack, drank everything in sight at some point, and has seen mental issues affecting another person, I find it easy to empathize with a person out of control. Call it the “there but for the grace of…”, or projecting, or whatever you wish. Someone who is self-aware and still cannot help himself or herself; has my understanding.
I do believe that people are pre-disposed in their genes for these traits. No person sits on Santa’s lap at five years old and says, “I want a crack-pipe, a bottle, a touch of bat-shit crazy, the tremors afterwards, and a G.I. Joe in a red wagon.” People do not aspire to degradation. They simply do not.
That feeling you described waking up in withdrawals with such candor is something all of us who drink/smoke/shoot/pop, at one time or another to excess, can relate. Thankfully, unless one is hiding behind sophistry, you/I/we recognized the slippery slope we’re on and made the necessary changes. Wherever that Maginot Line is in one’s life, it seems that once crossed, there is little chance of return.
Anyway, this is not meant to be a rant that is preachy or even to argue environment vs. breeding; it just my opinion on a thought-provoking post and the comments that followed. One last thing; you did your pimp-a-book post, so let me add ‘Dry’, by Augusten Burroughs. It is a great read and your story made me think of this book. You both have a similar flow. Trust me, that is a huge compliment. Again, sorry to be all wordy and contrarian – I am just offering my perspective.
@Aint
You make a lot of good points.
I was too general with my “hard to sympathize” comment. I was thinking as it directly related to Jennifer’s response about the alcoholic step-father. It’s one thing to divebomb one’s own life into the gutter, but when other individuals are involved, especially children, I tend to lose my sympathy. Affecting a child’s (or teenager’s) life due to alcoholism is not sympathetic in the least. As an individual addict, you do still end up hurting other people like parents and loved ones, but ultimately it’s still your life. But as a care-giver you can really do permanent damage to young ones in a position where they are unable to help themselves. It’s selfish to be around children in any capacity while experience major substance abuse problems.
On the flip side, I have a ton of empathy for the mentally-ill. In that case, addiction is often the simplest form of self-medication available to these people. And I do have a soft spot for the spinning-out-of-control addict. Life is pretty cool when you push it right to the limits. As long as you’re not bringing others down with you, and as long as you’re a professional about it, that shit can be pretty damn cool.
I agree that there is likely a genetic component to addiction. That and very early developmental behavioral patterns that are ingrained by the alcoholic. Unfortunately, life doesn’t have much sympathy for those dealt a shitty hand. It’s up to the person to play it straight, and make the best of it.
I will absolutely check out “Dry” by Burroughs. I’ve been wanting to read that book for a long time. It may very well be the next book I read.
@Goats
I agree that this piece is a step beyond the Beer in Hell your stuff. But it is the tour writing that allowed me to experiment and find my footing in the first place. I know there’s a large, and arguably deserved, anti-Tucker sentiment around the internet these days, but I do have a lot of respect for the guy. Despite his numerous negative qualities, he was a huge inspiration in helping me form my current perspective on life. He’s also always willing to sit down and offer advice. Same with Nils. Yeah, the movie shit the bed, but it’s still impressive it was even made. Rest assured, no one on the planet is more disappointed in the results than Tucker.
But thanks for the compliment. I feel I turned a corner with this latest piece too. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but maybe it’s a good thing that it all felt very natural.
BTW, wasn’t intending to crack on your TM Tour Recap–those have been interesting as well, even though I can’t stand that guy personally. I only wanted to emphasize that this piece went far beyond the TM stuff–and was well executed. Keep up the good work my friend!
Great post Chris – I really enjoyed it. Your writing style is engaging and the metaphors you use enhance the ideas and points you make. I look forward to future posts of this nature as well as tour updates. Oh, and of course the MSPaint cartoon is basically amazing.
@Marina
Hellz yeah, MSPaint. But other than that, you sound like the type of person one would travel (assuming you’re north american) Europe with. Do you know your international geography?
But thank you for the kind words.
Growing up with an alcoholic definitely shaped my life. But I have no regrets. Living in that situation gave me a strength I never would have had otherwise, it shaped the very person I am today and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
I’m sure that’s not the case for everyone and empathize wholeheartedly with people who grow up to be alcoholics themselves or addicts of any kind. My mentality went to the opposite extreme and I’m a control freak who might drink a couple of times a month and never alone or on weeknights, etc.
@Jennifer
Sounds like you’ve really got things figured out. And you’re absolutely right, those experiences, as long as we don’t succumb to them, do make us stronger. You can’t control what other people do, but you can control your own behavior. Moderation is a good thing. Maybe something I should look into it.
@Marina
I’ve got mad traveling skillz. Only eclipsed by my drinking skillz.
@Aint
Unfortunately, I think Marina was subtly mocking my Canadian heritage. I should put those movies up on my site one of these days, and make more. People really seemed to like them. Marina sounds like the kind of girl that has standards. I think that puts me out of the running.
@Melissa
Thanks for reading. I understand addiction in a new light now. It’s a very complex topic that I can’t even begin to tackle, but if it gets people thinking, it makes writing worth it.
Why yes, in fact I am quite knowledgeable in international geography. You have sharp intuition Chris. If I were to guess, I’d say you would make a decent travel companion yourself. Eh?
Griffin,
I’m not trying to get in your business here, but I think one of these Gris movie cartoons produced specifically for Marina is in order here. Think about it…chicks dig a three-day old beard and I bet she doesn’t even know about your private tennis court yet.
Plus, did you notice the “Eh”? Dude, she’s fluent in English AND Canadian! I’ll even make a deal with you, the first dinner date with her is on me. I am not even joking about that part.
All right now, deep breaths, relax, and focus. Make us all proud.
Thank you so very much for writing this. I’ve known addicts and I’ve been addicted to things other than substances, and people need to hear this stuff. Few people understand addiction like you obviously do.
Ain’t – I am fluent in more than just those languages…
Chris – “Standards” is a subjective term.
Hold on a minute. Am I the only one who’s read this, got to the end, and thought, “His lion devoured him half way through the story.”
There are only superficial differences between you and Bob. Bob wears a dirty Santa hat; you wear a clean tee shirt. Bob smokes crack; you drink like a fish.
Poison is poison. Your body doesn’t care if it’s crack or legalized alcohol. Some might argue that your spirit or soul doesn’t recognize the difference either.
I think Ain’t summed it up best. You write well, but your material is morally limp. “After a week of responsible heavy drinking…”
Who the fuck drinks like that? That’s like Bob stating he’s a recreational crack smoker. Talk about your oxymorons.
But you’re right about one thing: when the shit gets too thick to wade through, someone will be there to help you. I hope you’ll be able to accept that help when the time comes.
“Poison is poison. Your body doesn’t care if it’s crack or legalized alcohol. Some might argue that your spirit or soul doesn’t recognize the difference either.”
No, there is a difference, a big difference. You fail to see it because you are too high on your soapbox.
Glad I found this, great stuff.
That was a really good read, thank you.
One of the best things I’ve read in a while. I live here in Calgary, and contrast between the haves and have-nots is amazing. My brother and his wife live in a million dollar house in the country just outside Calgary, while her father sleeps on its streets.
@Hill
I appreciate the compliment. And no doubt, Calgary has been terrible in the past half-decade after the oil boom. There’s hardly a middle class any more. Just people who benefited from the boom and those who were fucked over by it. I spend a ton of time talking to the homeless. It’s amazing how one tiny mishap can be the last straw leading them to homelessness. Thankfully it’s not hard to find a temporary place to stay, but when the issues are long-term, people are pretty much screwed. The cost of living in this city went up exponentially overnight, and it was a bitch if you worked in an industry that wasn’t positively impacted by the oil/housing/etc. boom.
Glad to have a fellow Calgarian reading along. That sucks about your brother’s wife’s father. He may have to help himself before anyone can lend him a hand, but I don’t want to be presumptuous about his situation.
There’s something in your writing that’s visceral, it reaches out and grabs the reader on a very personal level. This entry follows that trend and I think you are well on your way to being great.
I never had a problem with alcohol or hard drugs. Drinks have always been more of a “weekend warrior” thing where even if I went overboard and spent more money than I should have, at least I was able to remember the good time I had the following morning. The experimenting with hard drugs when I was younger may have delt my folks a few sleepless nights, but that was short lived.
However, I’ve been a pretty consistent weed smoker since the beginning of high school. We’re all familiar with the typical narritive when it comes to dope: makes you stupid for a bit, the munchies, Gerry Garcia, etc., but I rarely hear anyone talk about the mundane escapism it provides. Just recently I’ve been placed into a situation where I’ve been forced to abstain for a couple of weeks, and I’ve begun to realize just what that escapism has meant to my life over the past 10 years, and it makes me want to cry. I;ve decided that I’m off that shit for good.
Thanks for the article, it helps.
@Carrymehome
That’s an interesting comment. I’m no expert on the topic, but I’ve read in a few places that studies suggest daily pot smoke sort of disables the maturation process. If you start smoking pot everyday at 22 and stop when you’re 26, certain cognitive functions will remain very much as they were at 22. And I do also believe there is a huge escapism/compartmentalization element to it. Of course, pot smoke affects everyone differently. I know for me, during times where I’ve smoked it regularly (when I was younger), I felt dumb as shit when I finally got off the stuff after a few months. But other people can live with minimal consequences. But, ultimately, if you’re feeling the way you do after getting off it for a while, that’s a really good sign you should abstain from it.
I will say, however, that I believe pot is way, way less destructive than alcohol — as a generalization. It also helps the lower classes slog through shitty jobs without hating their lives. I have yet to hear a convincing argument as to why it shouldn’t be legal since it’s so readily available as it is now. And I’ve read several, including many economic-related arguments from respectable thinkers, that make it overwhelmingly obvious legalization needs to happen.
@Shambles
That’s very generous of you to say. The article came out very naturally as I combined two stories that were important to me. People have accused me of being “immoral” and exploiting Bob the bum for personal gain. Personally, I think they’re self-righteous idiots. But they are entitled to their opinion. In any case, I write for people like you.
“But other people can live with minimal consequences. ”
And yet other people live with it with positive consequences. Never forget that.
Responsible users should not be punished for other people’s misuse.
I’m an advocate for responsible use of drugs. I think it’s ridiculous that psychedelics are banned from medical use because of fear-mongering government sensationalists. Although, based on most accounts I’ve heard, crack isn’t a once-in-a-while drug. I’ve seen it ruin a ton of lives, and I’ve never once spoken with a recovering addict and heard him or her say “Yeah, those crack years — I don’t regret them at all.” That’s just my experience. Maybe you’ve witnessed otherwise.
Wow, man, it’s been a while since I’ve seen such a well-written and delicate discussion of issues like these. And on a blog, no less, not even Time or Newsweek or whoever. Well done, you hit the nail on the head here.
Enjoyable read for sure. Addicts dig their own grave though. They know the risks involved with heavy drinking, smoking crack, doing heroin, etc. The weak die in this world. If they have opportunity but blow it on drugs, then thats what they chose for themselves.
@Marina
Standards are for wimps, right?
@oddjobdrummer
You make a very fair point. We see the same issue from two very different perspectives. I don’t think drinking is a moral question when it’s done in moderation. By moderation, I mean under control. There is a such thing as responsible heavy drinking. It’s all about having respect for the beast. Alcohol is a poison. It also has numerous side-effects, but when balancing out the pros and cons, I so vastly prefer a life with booze compared to without that it’s not even a question. The drug improves my quality of life. It’s created situations I never otherwise would have been in. I’ve met people I otherwise wouldn’t have talked to. It makes me laugh more, and enjoy almost any social activity more. As long as the side-effects like hangovers, drunk driving, bad decisions and all that shit don’t start to ruin my life, I’m fine with it. But, then again, I’m a weird dude. It’s not for everyone. Still, if I ever reached a point where I lost control of drinking by either becoming addicted to it, or letting the negative consequences destroy my life, I’d be very disappointed in myself. Almost every substance/enjoyment on earth is about moderation. Booze just happens to be my vice of choice, right next to being awesome.
@Trev
Lots of traffic from Reddit for this piece. Thanks for stopping by. Glad I got some exposure.
@Kyle
Thanks dude.
@van Buuren
I’m mostly in agreement that people dig their own graves thing. I know I’d never blame anybody for my failures. My new found empathy arose from how easy it was to slip into the physical addition, and how horrendous it was to get out of it. I believe there are exceptions where people may not quite understand the consequences before they make a decision. Or that they are pressured into an addiction. In a purely mathematical/evolutionary sense, those people are weaker. But life, once you account for all its ugliness, is a little too complex to abide by hard and fast definitions in every instance.
First time reader. Have to say it was pretty well written, nice parallel between yourself and Bob. Definitely hits home for me, I’m a recovering addict, though I was stuck on OC and dope. First time I saw that Hunter S. Thompson quote, thought it was a great one, and a nice touch.
Nice to see that it only took one major slip up for you to realize your mistakes. I haven’t even been on this planet for two decades and yet I know there will be emotional ramifications for life at the very least.
A++++++++ Will read again! A++++ Writer
@Shapps
Nicely done on the ebay throwback. Being under 20, and addicted to OC and dope is no easy task. It’s early to jump on the addiction train. But the fact you acknowledge the lifelong ramifications is a good start. There’s gonna be a lot of pressure in the next five years of your life. Remember to respect the beast.
@Palo
I’m sure by many definitions I’m an alcoholic. It’s like those bullshit hippie government studies that say “binge drinking in more than 3 drinks in one sitting.” I see that and I’m thinking jesus, what’s the term for 50 drinks in one sitting? Like most things in life, I try not to listen to preconceived definitions created by the government or some other useless body. I figure I’m smart enough to take an objective look at my boozing. There are times I let loose, and times where I reel it in if I think it’s getting out of control. Sounds like we’re on the same page regarding this shit. Self-righteous hypocrites trying to tell you how to live your life are the worst. I wonder how miserable those people are when they’re all alone?
@Carrymehome
Bustin’ your ass up in Fort Mac, eh? Tough work, but you’ll be pulling in some good dough. When you get back to Calgary, it’s likely you’ll face a lot of pressure to get back on the dope. Not necessarily a bad thing if you’re using your new found recognition to keep it in check. Doing a couple of hits at a party or something isn’t the end of the world. See what happens if you attempt to avoid doing it just for the hell of doing it, like out of sheer boredom or whatever. We should grab a beer when you’re back in town.
Do you consider yourself an alcoholic? Personally, I drink most nights, sometimes by myself, but I am still able to be a productive person and exceed my goals or expectations for each day. Every clinical diagnosis would say I am an alcoholic, but I only feel you are an alcoholic if it impedes your everyday life. Those who disagree are typically self-righteous hypocrites that have never experienced more than the “Leave it to Beaver” life. I might be trying to justify my lifestyle, but who is anyone to judge? I only write this because you seem to have a similar belief system…
You’ll find nothing but agreement from me with what you said regarding pot, Griffin. I think it’s prohibition has allowed society over the years to unfairly demonize it and lump it’s abuse in with that of much harder drugs. Then, when someone like me gets into it and realizes they can still have a reasonably productive life even while smoking the shit everyday, all that fear mongering is recognized as pure bullshit.
Even when I finally started to realize what the consequences, for myself, of daily use were, I couldn’t pull myself away from it. I needed that escape, like I was afraid to see the world through clear, sober eyes. We all need an escape sometimes, and much like you I relish weekends where I can get drunk and party with my friends, but weed and my fear of not having it has made me into a person that I don’t want to be.
It’s been easy to abstain up here in Ft. Mac, working 12 hour days. The real challenge will be when I return to Calgary tomorrow and one of my buds shoves a bong in my face.
Thanks for the advice man. A beer sounds good. Shoot me an email and we’ll go from there.
Hi Griffin,
I am a random internet wanderer. Just wanted you to know that though I’ve never come to the threat of homelessness…I have had and still have my struggles with just about everything addiction inducing at one point or another. Anyway, I was completely consumed in reading your post and was really, really struck by this:
“If you tumble down the canyon and lose respect for the demon, then you’ve lost the game forever because your choices no longer include moderation. The decision becomes binary – either abstinence or self-destruction, and no one wants that.”
OMG. Like I said, my life hasn’t been drastically ill affected by my habits, yet. My habits are just that my life isn’t allowed to progress. But, I have definitely come to this place. If I smoke, I smoke in a certain way, much like the way I drink. Which is don’t stop until it is gone or I can’t stand up anymore. I can do neither at all, I think, I hope… I’m 40 something, alone, work nights, no friends and see my kids on weekends. Anyway, I have come to that all or nothing binary choice and it sucks. Because like you said moderation is no longer part of the picture and in a way, my sensations seeking brain says “well, the fun’s over…I can’t even have a good time anymore…so what’s the f’in point? Might as well hit the f-it switch.”
Crappy place. But, somehow it has helped to see that which feels so complex put so succinctly.
Peace.
@Feelingedgy
Random internet wanderers are always welcome ’round these parts.
Man, that’s pretty intense that you’ve reached the point where moderation is out of the picture. I’m the sort that doesn’t drink everyday, but when I do drink, it ends up being a marathon. I completely understand when you say that sometimes it’s not even a good time. That’s where I’ve been focusing on moderation lately. If I drink 20 beers and have an absolute blast, I have no regrets. But if I drink 20 beers, and accomplish nothing aside from a mediocre night and a brutal hangover, I get fucking pissed with myself. Your situation sounds like you’re best to avoid all this stuff altogether. It does kind of suck, but the good news is there are a lot of things in life, usually derived from passionate endeavors, that can provide a natural rush. Go do a 5-minute comedy set at an amateur night for the hell of it. Even if you bomb, I think you’ll see what I mean. Thanks for reading. Hope you stop by regularly.
You fucking piece of Shit.
I mean that whole heartedly. Not because we couldn’t all do more to help the homeless, the poor, the sick, God knows I walk past enough of them every day to suggest anything so hypocritical.
You are a fucking shit because you got involved. You involved yourself with the guy. You took the risk of giving a shit in a small way and then neglected the long term responsibility that comes with that.
No one can be blamed for the death of a stray dog. But if you feed it, stroke it and get involved with it then you have a goddamn responsibility to look after it if you possibly can.
I hope whatever stopped you was worth it.
Apparently you think the guys dead now. You probably could have stopped that happening. You didn’t.
@Simon
Bob and I spent many hours together. We shared our stories, and had a helluva time. He was content with killing himself via crack. I respect that decision. I don’t see why sharing a few moments with a friend before he dies makes me a piece of shit.
Let me get this straight. You dropped everything, got on a bus with Tucker max and decided to dedicate 6v months of your life to a task that many many people said was impossible and, despite hardship, personal loss and adversity you managed to pull off a tour and schedule most people would have run screaming from but you couldn’t do anything for Bob ?
Oh yeah sorry, he wanted to die from crack addiction… no wait a sec, hold on, he was a crack addict, don’t you think maybe he wasn’t the best person to be working out his life plan ? Like maybe a sensible sober person who had recently become involved with him should have maybe stepped up and tried to sort him out.
Sure you might have failed, but couldn’t you try ? When you walk past a woman who’s about to jump off a bridge do you try to talk her down or do you shrug and say “meh… she knows whats best for her”
No dice. For some reason you decided you didn’t have the time, or couldn’t afford the effort required to help Bob out in a more meaningfull way than the odd McDonalds and a chat and because of that, he’s dead… Oh hang on, we don’t even know that do we, you didn’t bother checking.
I don’t blame you. I honestly don’t. We all assume it’s someone elses job but if you’re going to drop shit like “he’s probably dead” then man up and accept that part of the reason he’s probably dead is that you didn’t go the extra mile.
@Simon
I understand your position but feel no remorse or guilt for how I handled things with Bob. I hope he considers (considered?) me a friend. Perhaps I didn’t do enough, or perhaps there was nothing I could have done no matter what. In any case, it sounds like your moral compass is in better shape than mine, and I admire that you dedicate your time to helping others.
Hey Simon – wash the sand off of your clitoris, you communist anal-fissure.
Griffin – post another entry because it’s time, and we don’t have to read Simon/Ballsack’s vomit when you post in a timely manner.
@Ain’t
Communist may be my favorite insult of all time. Well done. And I’m working on another entry. I’ve been busting my ass doing Standup comedy 3 to 5 nights a week, and it’s tied up all my free time. On top of that, I’m up against the wall at work with all my projects due. April should be a much, much better month.
Simon, I don’t even know you and I think you are a douche. How can you possibly be talking shit to him for giving a homeless person food, coffee, and empty bottles for income? Seems like the extra mile to me…Did you want him to bathe him and pay his rent? People have to take responsibility for themselves and not blame others.
Okay Simon the Samaritan, what have you done to be so high up on that horse?
In other words, Tits or GTFO
@Bryan
Only a communist wouldn’t show Tits.
Simon,
When someone is determined to succumb to their addiction, they will succeed. It’s noble to put forth such a great effort for them, but your help is better directed at the people actually want to take it.
@Destiny
Exactly. I don’t what kind of experience people have changing a fifty-something year old man’s mind, but I haven’t had any. If he was some lost, young soul looking for a leg to stand on, that’s one thing. But he was very adamant that he was happy going out to crack, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There comes a point, where you’ve got to respect a person’s decisions, even if they are counter-intuitive to traditional moral reasoning.
Simon sez:
“We all assume it’s someone elses job but if you’re going to drop shit like “he’s probably dead” then man up and accept that part of the reason he’s probably dead is that you didn’t go the extra mile.”
Simon, the crux of your argument, which you make particlarly apparent with this last bit of text, is that you believe we are all our brother’s keepers. Another way to say this would be that once you have established a personal connection with someone, you are then responsible for the outcomes of any decisions they make. I would disagree. It’s clear that Griffin’s interactions with Bob didn’t harm him, and in fact benefitted Bob in some small way.
Now, assuming we’re in agreement about being “our brother’s keepers”, what would you have Griffin try?
Stage an intervention? Sure, there’s just the monumental task of tracking down Bob’s family, whereever they are, and bringing them to Calgary.
Drag him to a rehab centre? Great, but if he doesn’t want to go voluntarily then I think that’s called assalt and possibly kidnapping.
Really, when you look at the options, there really aren’t any. Even the selfless people that volunteer huge amounts of their time know they have to draw the line at where that help stops (whether it is mandated by the organization they volunteer through or their own decision). You seem to think you are the sole arbiter of where that line must be drawn, and that you have the right to hold others in judgement if they draw that line before yours.
Griffin, excellent post. Again. Somehow, you always manage to improve upon you’re previous entry. I’m definitely a fan. And for my two cents, I think you handled everything with Bob in an admirable fashion. You were a friend, even when he wasn’t looking for one.
But Calgary, huh? You a big Flames fan?
@Josh
Thanks. I do make it a goal to improve with each post, or at least push myself. Sometimes it works, and other times it ends up being terrible, but I’m never too disappointed with failure if it occurred when I was trying something new. When it does work, it’s rewarding as hell.
Yeah, I am a big Flames fan. Don’t really have much choice up here. Big Philadelphia Eagles fan too, if that makes sense.
Wait a sec Griff,
where are the tour recap stories? You promised more tour recap stories!
I’m finding several things odd about peoples reactions to my post.
The first is that some people seem to assume that I must be some kind of saint who works in a soup kitchen and dedicates their life to helping the poor and the sick.
Fraid not. I’m not an arse, I try to help out my fellow man, I’ve had homeless guys sleeping in my living room, I’ve slipped a tenner into the odd hat, but I’m not a saint.
The second thing people seem to assume is that I have a problem with Griffins actions ( or implied lack of action ) I don’t. I doubt there is much else he could have done, I doubt many of us would have done more and quite frankly, if we did we’d spend our entire lives and savings helping others. Personally I like beer and material goods too much to go down the mother Theresa route.
What pisses me off about this post, and many of the replies is the way it casually acknowledges Bobs probable death without acknowledging that something possibly could have been done about it but no one did.
It says “people like Bob die and that’s natural because we couldn’t possibly spend all our time and money looking after people who are less fortunate than ourselves because we need stuff too”
When what we should really be saying is
“People like Bob die and that’s natural because we don’t want to spend all our time and money looking after people less fortunate than us because basically we’re selfish cunts who care more about having enough cash to buy the odd takeout meal and go to the cinema than we do about someone’s actual life”
The post exemplifies a fundamental truth about human nature. We can be generous, caring, loving creatures, but ultimately we care more about our own lifestyle than we do an actual human life.
I don’t mind that. I understand it. Hell, I subscribe to it I just think that after saying something like that we should be honest enough to add “because basically… we’re cunts”
TUCKER TOUR RECAP STORIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
@Mike
Ha – yessir, I have a half written one at the moment. I can’t wait to finish it. Maybe this weekend I’ll stay home for once, and see if I can knock some writing out. I fear I’m going to forget how to do it.
HEY JUNIOR DOUCHEBAG YOUR LEGION OF FANS AWAITS MORE DOUCHEBAGGERY TALES OF DOUCHEBAGNESS WRITTEN IN OVERWROUGHT EXCESSIVELY DETAILED DOUCHEBAG STYLE so hurry it up already
although, this was actually a decent story
@anonydouce
Overwrought excessively detailed is very accurate.
Ditto
Great read. I happened to have some dramatic music playing while I read so it almost brought a tear to my eye.
(I will say, though, that you can dispense with that last line. The obligatory pun/synthesis/moral ending is not actually obligatory and makes an otherwise great piece of text look formulaic – my 2 c).
agree about the last line
I wish everybody read my articles with dramatic music playing in the background. I liked the last line, but I see another commenter agrees with you. Maybe it’s just because my life really does feel like a circus sometimes. I can see how it’s kind of corny.
well. I’ve been doing the ambulance volunteering gig for a while (and intend to do that again once I get back to the civilized world.) I’ve seen stories like this front row and then some… the sad part is, there’s nothing that would take those people off the streets and back to what we call ‘normal’ life. each and every one that I met ‘made it very clear that [they] intended to die on [insert city name] streets.’
I don’t know if there’s a certain freedom to that. perhaps the mere thought that you don’t have to worry about bills is totally worth giving up a hot shower whenever you feel like one. the addiction is just the wall those people build to keep themselves away from what they left behind. yes it’s a one-way trip. but then again the human brain is a funny toy, so difficult to keep in one piece when winter comes and your bed is the stair flight downtown at Timmy’s. so that wall has to be erected, one way or another.
I wish more people would pay this kind of attention to bums.
Great comment. I can only imagine what you witnessed on a daily basis. I agree completely about the addiction. Even if it goes against all logic, these people have convinced themselves that consistently living for the next high is how they want to live. The human mind is a complex and powerful beast.
awesome story man
Thanks, yo.