Back in the Summer of Big Hair
“Your best days are ahead of you. The movie starts when the guy gets sober and puts his life back together; it doesn’t end there.” ― Bucky Sinister, Get Up: A 12-Step Guide to Recovery for Misfits, Freaks, and Weirdos
Many years ago,
back in the summer of big hair
I was cheffing in a small restaurant in PTown.
I was turning out 500 covers a night
and sucking down cocaine like it was Vick’s vapo-rub.
I carried my addiction with me for years
along with alcohol.
I went in and out of lovers like I went through nightly covers –
an endless production of food.
One night sitting at the edge of the ocean,
feeling the water getting higher and higher and higher
I sat until I was almost covered.
It came to me –
stupid. You are killing yourself.
I stood up and slogged myself to the shore.
I bottomed out and went the way of 12 Steps.
I picked a good sponsor. I got sober.
I learned to live not high.
I went to Japan.
I learned to honor the seasons.
I learned to love myself.
I came back home to the South.
I learned how to really live.
It is now October,
October of the season and October of my years.
I sit up in my oak tree
and enjoy the peace of the woods,
the impossibly blue sky, the sound of animals.
I love October.
I love the autumn more than I ever
loved the burning hot summer of my youth.
I draw the bow across my violin and begin to play.
La Musica Notturna Delle Strade Madrid from my personal playlist, a short version from the movie at the end of Master and Commander