I'm writing what is an eternity - a good year and a half. Readership is probably zero at this point and I'm barely managing any blips in cyberspace, but i've no other journal at the moment and my life has been a series of unfinished notebooks (pages at the end that go to nowhere). Besides, this blog has seen me through 2 NY's resolutions and minor transitions.
What makes this year so different?
A few things... Everything.
I started the New Year with one of those near-death experiences that define you by defining a moment that's pretty hard to erase when the moment itself is the very act of being erased in front of you. If I can reclarify -- it was an ambulance, and my head on the pavement oozing blood, while I checked out. Checked out meaning -- a feeling of going... Time slowed down immensely and what I could only feel were still shots of my being as if filmed by Michel Gondry, or perhaps it felt more like stop motion animation - time was fractured and moving in frames into blackness. Rattling and descriptions of what had happened "He drank too much... He was drinking too much... He Fell... He hit his head on the pavement..." Moist and wet blood, Ice... A trickle. Panic. Blackness - Is this it? Am I dying? I hear the sounds of EMT's giving up, turning offi monitors... Am I going "out" of existence -- and {moment of existential dread} is this what really happens? What follows is a replay - 12:40am, I had stumbled out of the party to catch a cab, but being completely inhibriated I fell into a wall and cracked my skull open, lost some blood. Friends called 911, had me blanketed, iced and elevated. Within minutes, and after some much needed vomiting, Joe and the EMT's carted me off in the meatwagon to Swedish where I was undressed, had tubes shoved into every orifice and my bodily fluids drained and replaced with fluids that were a bit more, well, helpful. This is where I regained consciousness and saw Joe waiting (I don't think I've ever been more thankful of anyone than to see him)... Time caught up to me, brought me into the moment. I was in a hospital gown, had tubes going in and out of every orifice. I was too tired to be ashamed of how this escalated and was focused on survival at that point (and the fact that I was vomiting out more fluid)... They patched me up with a staple in my noggin, and had me walking to make sure my blood pressure would raise, my most graceful moments again - me walking down the halls of Swedish, a medic holding the back of my gown closed and I'm weaving and bobbing. By 5:30am, I'm announced alive and at risk of concussion.
I'm not ashamed of this happening - it brought some good forces back in my life (namely Joe [who is my guardian angel at this point] and the will to live and not do stupid things like this again). It also clarified my resolutions at this point:
- Be a better person
- Quit "out" drinking everyone.
I'm not a candidate for AA, but I binge drink like a foolish coed, especially at milestone occassions (birthday's, holidays, bad elected officials taking office). I'm not sure why I still do this at age 35, but I'm usually 1-2 jiggers up on most of my peers and I get "crunked" as a means of what I probably think as a means of malcontent bohemian revelry adopted in late teens/early 20's (I remember polishing off a 5th of voddy with 2 housemates in an evening in order to instigate the insane things we tried to goad each other into doing while sober). I think the infectious self-destructiveness was fine as long as there was little or no actual destruction occuring. But it's recently occured to me the dumb choices that I'm not immune to -- even death -- are carried in shot-glassess placed on checkerboard. I somehow make it a mission to get messed up, and then magically maintain. This has to stop... I'm older fer chrissakes... People look at old trolls vomitting in the corners of dive bars with pity and disgust, and I'm not wanting either at this point.
I think somewhere in the pain and flurry, I heard an EMT say (or shout) "Your gonna be fine"... Oh.... I gotta be good.
