Joseph A. Pelletier, A.A. - God Speaks at Garabandal - Assumption - 1970

Definitely NOT a stranger. And "pillow princess energy"?? You're not right. Certainly not right...and also not wrong either. I—

- A.A.

I mean, it takes a pillow princess to know one babes so I'll follow your lead on this one 💅🏾

herkes sevilmeme gerçeğiyle baş edebilir, ama sevildiğini sanmak, o fena işte! birinin seni buna inandırması, ona güvenip yaslanman onun çekilmesiyle düşmen... böyle bir düşüş en güçlüsünü bile dibe batırır. yani tam dünyadan sıyrılıp böyle "artık burada yaşayayım" derken evsiz kalmak.. bu bambaşka bir köksüzlük. .. o yüzden, bu hayattaki en önemli şey hayatını kiminle paylaşacağını doğru seçebilmek. neşet ertaş diyor ya, "sessizliğini duymayan birine sevdanı verme, göynün incinir" diye. uykularının kaçmaması için evini doğru yere inşa etmen lazım. yoksa en büyük acıların aşk uğruna çekilmesi ya da en güzel romanların aşk üstüne yazılması tesadüf değil.

A.A./メメントモリ

Un día a la vez...

Llevo dos meses y medio limpio del consumo de alcohol, tres años ya sin fumar marihuana, para esta última realmente no tuve problema en cesar su consumo, solo hizo falta una pandemia global para no volver a ver al dealer, el bueno, el chido o como le denomine a su proveedor predilecto de sustancia.

En cambio el tema del alcohol es punto y aparte, para tener la capacidad de abstenerme fue necesario el pasar cerca de tres meses en una casa de rehabilitación, a diferencia de lo que comúnmente se dice o se cree, la estancia no se mide en meses sino en periodos de 28 días, me faltaron 5 para tener ese tercer periodo completo, cosas de la vida, mi esposa y mi hija me regresaron a casa el 1o de enero de este año, ellas pasaron conmigo y con mis queridos locos, borrachos, drogadictos y enfermos emocionales (que hoy traigo incrustados en el pecho, del lado izquierdo) las fiestas del 24 y 31 de diciembre, las amo, nunca me dejaron solo.

En fin, este blog... o Tumblr... o como le quiera usted llamar (asumo que alguien por ahí extraviado en el océano inmenso que es internet, entre los miles, millones de personas que escriben algo inteligente y dejan huella en él, por alguna extraña circunstancia encontró esta nota dentro de una botella que lancé hace siete años y algunos meses) tuvo como intensión narrar en prosa libre, ligera, sencilla algunos hechos o capítulos, quizás anécdotas de lo que ha sido y fue mi vida como Te Por Ocho o dígase sin resquemor: borrachito.

Recibí por correo la notificación del aniversario del blog, no pude destapar una cerveza para festejar porque tenía 9 días internado.

Durante mi estancia en la mencionada casa (tengo que hacer énfasis en esto, no estuve anexado o engranjado, no por pena, discriminación o algún tipo de elitismo, el sitio en que estuve lamiendo heridas no trabaja con los internos como en un anexo o granja aunque si comparte los pilares: el programa de 12 pasos a la usanza de A.A. y N.A.) escribí un diario impulsado por la necesidad de preservar una memorabilia de todo lo que veía y escuchaba, para alguien con una carrera alcohólica de 25 años, de los cuales los últimos 10 fueron de ir metiendo pie al acelerador, había situaciones, temas y emociones que si en el mejor de los casos no eran nuevos, por lo menos verlos desde la abstinencia era como ver la vida de miope con lentes nuevos y recién graduados.

Ahora con dos meses y medio de asbtencionismo, que no sobriedad, recordé este blog y que quizá podría darle ese uso para el que en su momento pensé que sería el indicado, voy a vaciar en él justo mis anécdotas de borracho y de adicto en recuperación no con el fin de que alguien me lea sino con la intención de hacer catarsis, algo que aprendí en mi estancia en rehabilitación: soy un enfermo de mis emociones, ellas alimentan mi adicción, si las hablo aligero la carga que soporto en los hombros y me resulta más fácil andar por la vida.

Solo por hoy.

24 Horas.

Winnie-the-Pooh 🍯

Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.

A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.

A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Pooh, how do you spell love?' 'You don't spell love Piglet, you feel it

A.A. Milne

;

You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.

A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

A trio of former co-workers reunite to celebrate their freedom from corporate oppression.

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fix you by coldplay makes me think about ex gf!abby anderson criminally speeding down a highway. it’s raining, it’s freezing, and she shouldn’t be doing this, but she is. you were seconds away from saving what you had with her, but too late, it was over, she didn’t want you. then she went home, approached her door, and she saw you. saw the times she picked you up in her muscular arms, kissed you like you’d fade if she didn’t as she dragged you inside. she saw you on her couch when she got into her living room, sprawled across her lap as you rambled to her. tried to sleep it off in her bed, but she didn’t see you this time, she felt you, cuddled up in her arms as she kissed you to sleep. and then she cried, she bawled, because she had lost you. she had been an idiot, because how could she have let you go? then she left the house, got into her car, and fucking sped. rain falling down all around her, battling to get to you as fast as she could. like someone, someone wiser, who would never let you go, would get to you before she could. and she couldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t. you didn’t open the door at first when you heard her knock. you were numb, exhausted, sick. you couldn’t speak to a soul, not when you were like this. not when you had lost the only person who could make you feel what you did for abby. and who could even be here at this hour? but her knocking is deafening, goddamn incessant, and you can’t ignore it. you get up from bed, walk to the door, and your heart drops. it’s her. and your eyes are red. your heart is frigid, vacant. you can’t feel a thing but the cold, rainy wind on your cheeks as soon as you open the door. and abby’s there. blonde braid soaked, face red. she’s been out here for a while, obviously. but she couldn’t leave, not when you were at stake. “abby?” you’d mumble, and she wouldn’t even answer. she cups your face in her hands, pulls you close, kisses you. and when she pulls back? “baby,” she whispers, and it’s sweet, and it’s endearing, and it’s sorrowful, but it’s home. her kiss says sorry. what she calls you only yells it. and when she pulls you into her arms, embracing you like she’ll never let you go again, because she won’t? she doesn’t need words to explain it. “i promise you i will learn from my mistakes.” because she would never make the same one again.

and just to add in this lyric: “tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace” abby anderson could never replace what was irreplaceable. you were everything to her. you were perfect. all that she wanted. all that she craved, come hell or high water, no matter what happened. and she’d be damned if she ever let you slip from her fingers again.

You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.

A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.

A.A. Milne // Winnie-the-Pooh

You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.

A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh