Prohibition

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel «« Erika’s question could not have come at a better time. It feels like Sunday night, because I NYC bicycle deliver mañana after days of being home. Dear Erika: You have the uncanny ability to voice questions I am wrestling with emotionally and mentally giving me a trigger to write — grazie. Sincerely, Tom Doody. Erika asks with the number of key soiled relationships in my life how could I possibly want more. Why would I jerk with people, and take unnecessary risks to add to my already long list of soiled relationships. The simple, but boring answer is my healthy and important relationships don’t hit my blog, and when they do it’s bad. Erika mentions Diego, and Hajime, because they’re explosions that made my blog recently, but a better example is Prohibition. I set my alarm, and called my friend the moment he and his family were going to a NASA rocket launch in Florida. With an occasion of goodwill, and no trigger from me he somehow got angry about the stupid fucking pictures I send via txt. These are the same pictures I post daily, and I call them my daily-digital art. It’s always fresh art, and usually points to a news event that’s still news. The number I had sent to Prohibition was a few per year. In short Prohibition exploded with a forgivable trigger from me, and he cut the call not talking to me or answering my calls or responding to my txt for years. . . . until this day. I was not like a jilted lover with frequent stalker-like messages. Rather normal one-line greetings for occasions … like his birthday and some holidays, never missing father’s day he’d get a text or call from me. My post has many-times more clicks than it should have gotten, which considering the circumstances tells me the open secret of Prohibition’s alcoholism was read by people who know both of us, and I have good reason to believe more than zero of them reacted: “omg someone finally said it openly”. Prohibition’s collision course with death includes multiple DUI’s, which could end his life and others in a blink. Someone needed to be open about the elephant in the living room, and it proved to be me. It cost me my relationship in the process. On this night I drank with Prohibition till four AM, with me about a drink per hour, and Prohibition . . . many . . falls-down can’t-find-my-hotel . . . fucked-up drunk. At one point I pressed to go to Duane Reade for water instead of directly to another bar, and I faced juvenile-level NFW peer pressure so we pressed on. Even though we were in sight of a Duane Read we found ourselves in another bar, and we were turned away after an offer of free water. The bartender would have violated the law to serve us. I tried to reach my friend for months until January, and I was faced with no response. I got inspired on the century day of prohibition to write this. Prohibition is more likely to precede me in death, and if odds prove true I would survive him in one of two conditions. ONE: overlooking his alcoholism, sucking it up, kissing his ass, and remaining warm TWO: severed like we are, and feeling whole that I did not stay silent on the elephant in the living room. Erika probes at my risk model with relationships as incomprehensible mentioning Hajime and Diego. I’ll resume with Hajime in a way that matches pre-drama. More will appear in youtube soon . . soon . . . like before the end of the weekend. ¿Diego? a man who went full Qanon, Hollicaust denial, election fraud . . . he was normal, and he lost many friends, and I was never one. He was a friend of Hana’s and remains (though tenuous) a friend of hers today. In short with the change Diego made there was zero hope of sustaining anything with him, and “key” would have never been used in either direction to describe our fb-only friendship. The mutual loss of a Diego-Tom split is zero for each party. As for the good off-blog relationships it can be said. My first born son, David, died, in 2007, and my mother died this year. My support to recover for David felt scarce, and with my mother it felt abundant. Oddly, a blog reader gets the dark side. Though I thought I was done, but there’s another thing with Prohibition. Binge drinking I tried to surface his alcoholism, and he quickly hit back at my fucked up relationships especially my daughter. My dark-side blogging prepares me for such a hit. I made no attempt to quickly end the topic like I would if I have done if it was uncomfortable. I had reconciled with my pain, and I am not bust for fresh approaches. My dark-side blogging helps my weaknesses be less vulnerable. Time does not heal; healing time heals. I’ve been healing, loving, and having fun day by day. »» about me 302-990-2346

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
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