the election drinking game for people who don’t drink

1491486523020454577-740x416.jpgFor people who don’t turn into a lost member of the Barrymore family every time they ingest alcohol, Monday’s debate was a chance to drink. And drink a lot. That clever little devil the Internet was littered with “Debate Drinking Games” over the past week. You know drinking games like the Star Wars drinking game where you drink every time they say, “the force”. Or the Law & Order drinking game where you drink every time that dramatic music plays. The debate version of the drinking game had things like, “Drink when you hear the word deplorable” or “Drink when they talk about immigration” or perhaps drink because this is the most fucking depressing election of all time (I’m projecting here as I didn’t watch the debates)

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For those of us who are more Barrymore-like, every day is a chance to drink and therefore it’s a good idea we just avoid it altogether. Besides, my drinking game for the better part of 20 years had looser rules like “Drink every time it’s Tuesday” and “Take a drink every time life pisses you off” and “Have a shot whenever you’re awake.” Unsurprisingly, I was usually playing alone and not having all that much fun. Yet we still have 40 days of this political gum scraping to endure so what’s a sober guy to do? Well, this sober guy is gonna make his own brand new non-drinking game,goddamnit! The thrown together, half-assed rules look something like this:

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The prize? I don’t get to hate myself and I won’t wind up in jail or in the nuthouse! Weeeeee! Okay, I throw in some Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as a bonus prize. Besides, look at that whimsical font and little brown bunny! It’s the best game ever. Actually, it kinda is. Smartassery aside for just a moment, I often marvel at how any of us addicts and alcoholics get through anything sober. I was one of those drinkers who thought everything went better with booze. Screw white wine with fish. White wine also went well with laundry and episodes of Young and the Restless. Tequila paired well with waiting tables. And cocaine was a nice accompaniment to everything from New Year’s Eve to Thursday nights at a Silver Lake leather bar. My point is, I didn’t necessarily need an event to get shitfaced. Events were a nice excuse for sure but far from necessary. This being said, however, for the last 15 years every magazine under the sun has wondered if the screwed up state of the world actually makes people drink and use drugs more. Studies from all over show a huge spike in drug addiction and alcoholism since 9/11. No shit. I was in Los Angeles on that day and went directly to the bar, do not pass go, do not collect $200. And that’s how we dealt. Or not dealt in my case. No, 9/11 didn’t make me a drunk (that was divine gift written in the stars or some shit) but trauma and the planet going to shit certainly helped grease the wheels of this hot mess machine. It didn’t matter that I was on the opposite coast. What mattered was I had a what I thought was a legit excuse to get hammered and an excuse I wore out until January 2009. So today when we– and by that I mean people like me who are sober– don’t meet for drinks to bitch about the state of the world, it’s nothing short of miraculous.

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The above trigger warning caught fire on Monday shortly before the debates. It was posted by Hofstra University, where the shitshow was held, as a precaution. Cynical internet a-holes bemoaned the pussiness of millennials and scoffed at their inability to cope. I sighed and shook my head, as I’ve been known to do for the last year and a half. I personally think the warning is a good idea and what the hell– maybe ongoing messages like this to young people could get them to talk about their problems. Can’t hurt. As addicts we don’t get these kind of warnings because, let’s face it, everything would have to come with one. WARNING: The dickwads on this freeway might make you want to shoot heroin!  WARNING: Entering this line at the post office could cause you to drink a box of wine in our employee parking lot. WARNING: America is still America and therefore you might occasionally want to get wasted or slap people but you won’t because you’re sober. So maybe I don’t get warnings on institutional clapboard signage. But I do get to live my life differently. I get to laugh at this ridiculous world. I get to send eye roll emojis to other sober people. I get to remember every moment, even the mundane and depressing ones. And, if I’m lucky, I get to play the game all over again.

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the bullshit of busy

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“I’m so busy.”

“I’ve been really busy.”

“You know me busy, busy, busy!”

“Just stayin’ busy!”

If I answer the simple question, “How are you?” with one of the above statements, you have my permission to roll your eyes and say, “Girl. Please.” I’m serious. I’ve had it with busy. I’m breaking up with busy. Busy can take her buzzin’ ass and go make excuses for being flakey elsewhere. For me. Listen. I’m happy you are busy. I’m happy there are so many planets rotating around the sun of your life that it makes your head spin. I’m happy that being busy keeps you out of trouble and fulfilled and helps you sleep at night. But for me, busy is some bullshit.

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My first problem with defaulting to “busy” when somebody asks how I am begins with the redundancy of the statement. The last time I answered “I’m really busy” I later thought, “Who the fuck isn’t?” That’s like saying I’m tired. Aren’t we all busy? Aren’t we all tired? Somebody asked me how I was. They don’t give a fuck if I’m busy. This person is busy too but they’re being nice and asking me what’s up. I could say, I’m good or if I’m being honest and not wanting to over-share, “Things are hard but I’m doing alright.” Answering “busy” to that question is essentially saying, “I’m so busy and my amazing life is so full that it’s exhausted me beyond the point of being polite.” It’s no coincidence that “unavailable” is a synonym for busy. Ouch. Also? I sort of feel like “busy” is this passive aggressive way to get people to respond with, “Oh yeah? Busy with what?”  so I can then ramble about all the amazing things I’m doing. The reality is if people love me, they know what I’m doing or they’ll ask specifically about that. Or If we’re really close I can launch right into my life trials and tribulations without the I’m busy buffer.

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The other thing about slapping the busy label on my life is that it really helps me inflate my ego to Macy’s parade balloon status. Like busy is a valid reason to not call people. Being busy is a hall pass to be inconsiderate. Busy mean I can seamlessly transition to being bitchy and I have an excuse. Busy means I can flake out whenever I want because I’m so important and so busy, busy, busy. Barf.  Like bitch. You are not running some multi-million dollar conglomerate. You have to call two people back and you need to feed your cats. Calm down. You’re not J-Lo.

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This is all fresh on my mind because I just got home from the day job where I basically played crazy person dodgeball for 7 hours. I took my pants off (because nothing says “I’m over it” like walking in the door and immediately taking your pants off), collapsed and drooled on myself during the world’s most coma-like 15 minute nap. I wanted to write. But, you guys. I was so busy all day. Plus? I’m really tired. Can’t I just have sparkly ideas and a team of happy birds would read my mind and then use their cute little beaks type them out in WordPress? Shit.There I was using busy to get out of something that actually makes me a happier and more fulfilled person. And that’s not fucking okay. 2900.gif

I made a promise to myself last month that I’d publish three times a week. It’s a promise I’ve tried to honor and by doing so it’s a promise that’s already paid off. But here I was trying to poo-poo it (a poo-poo-romise, if you will) because I’m busy. Sat down at my computer anyway. I opened what I started working on yesterday and turns out, I hated it. It wasn’t funny. It was trying too hard. It was annoying. See? My instincts were right. I was too busy and tired and writing wasn’t worth it today. I’d get back to it but not now. Sigh.

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Like all good thoughts, what happened next happened because of a little coffee. I sipped some coffee. I opened a new document and left the old one in my drafts to sit and think about what it’s done. The empty headline blinked at me, waiting patiently.  I’ve had this idea about the bullshit of being busy for a while and like Celine Dion says, it’s all coming back, all coming back to me now. And here we are. The biggest reason why I think busy is some laughable bullshit is because I am lucky to be busy. I was busy getting fucked up or having a hangover for the better part of 20 years. I think I can balance doing writing work I enjoy and taking care of a home and relationship I cherish. I got this. Busy negates the gifts I have in front of me. Busy gives the finger to a life I actually really love. And those things I can’t get to because I’m busy? If they’re important and make me happy, I’ll get to them. If I don’t have time, I’ll make time. Or they simply reveal themselves eventually to be not that important and fade away.

It really is that easy and I’m really not that busy.

 

 

Choose Life: 20 Years of Trainspotting & Its Epic Soundtrack

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Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?
And so starts the funniest, most gruesome and heart pounding cinematic heroin adventure of all time, Trainspotting.

Released in the United States 20 years ago today, I watched Trainspotting earlier this summer for an upcoming episode of Sloshed Cinema. At two decades old, the film still has a lot of guts and the signature take-no-prisoners style of 90’s independent filmmaking so sadly missing from movies of today. There are stylistic choices and plotting that read a tad dated in 2016 but make no mistake about it: Trainspotting captures the delusion of drug addiction while putting it on the run in crime caper-style movie which cements it as a classic. One of the things Trainspotting does so well that is definitely so 90’s is have an incredible soundtrack.  So incredible is the Trainspotting soundtrack that it even it came on two CDs. Films like Romeo and Juliet, Stealing Beauty, Pulp Fiction, Singles, Reality Bites, Empire Records, Great Expectations all had these mind-blowing, very of the moment soundtracks that were often better than the movies themselves. And Trainspotting has the perfect soundtrack for the decade and for a film hell-bent on taking the audience on a terrifying hilarious ride.

From the opening montage to the closing credits and in dialogue throughout the movie, Iggy Pop and his iconic song are now synonymous with Trainspotting. It played in the trailers. The characters talk about seeing him concert. Pop himself is one of the more famous junkies on Earth. And “Lust for Life”, although it was released some 20 years earlier, perfectly sets up the tempo and action for everything Renton, Spud, Sick Boy and Begbie will do for the next 90 minutes.

New Order was a massive part of my growing up gay, terminally unique and addicted so it fits in the Trainspotting world like a glove. An underrated track stateside, “Temptation” has killer songwriting which captures the isolation and independence of the film’s lead Renton. “Temptation” is so spot on for Trainspotting that the character Diana even quotes it in a really trippy sequence. Another song called “Temptation”, by Heaven 17 also shows up in the film.

There are final hits and then there are final hits, Renton informs us. So fittingly, electronic duo Leftfield came up with a track for the film entitled “Final Hit” which illustrates the style of music dominating the times while helping to tell the film’s heroincentric story.

So much of the music of Trainspotting works overtime to create the mood of the movie. This song by Blur does that nicely, with its pounding piano and haunting vocals.  The same goes for the songs by Lou Reed, Elastica, Fun Boy Three and the below song from Primal Scream.

By the time, you get to the end of Trainspotting you’re nearly out of breath. Director Danny Boyle did such a bang up job of catapulting us from heists to overdoses back to heists again that by the time we reach the last scene, featuring this excellent Underworld track, we feel like we’ve just stepped off a thrill ride. As an electronic music listener and drug doer myself(albeit not heroin, thank goddess) this song still gives me goosebumps. My 43-year-old self sat on the edge of my couch while it played right before the final credits rolled. That’s sign of a film that held up well and a soundtrack really kicking ass. While putting this together, there were so many songs that were post-worthy but I found myself out of breath, once again. Did I miss your favorite? Post it in the comments section below. And choose Sloshed Cinema for your next podcast listen and of course, choose life.

Listen to Sloshed Cinema Season 1 Now!

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Once upon a time,  a gay man obsessed with films and sobriety living in a marijuana filled forest reached out to a podcasting wizard. This wizard, wizard in like a magic kind of way not like a KKK kind of way, specialized in creating stimulating conversations about recovery and hence Sloshed Cinema was born! 

I mean. That’s basically what happened. We (we being me and Chris of the Since Right Now Network) thought wouldn’t it be fun/entertaining/provocative to talk about movies that talk about drinking? I’d pick a different movie every week and for 30 minutes, I’d ramble on about the film and how it relates to recovery and all the while I’d really be talking about myself. 10 episodes later, this show that was an idea, is now a reality. And now you can listen to our entire first season! In it I talk about new films like Burnt with Bradley Cooper and I Smile Back With Sarah Silverman, classic films like The Days of Wine and Roses and really campy films like Less Than Zero as well as the latest news and views from the corner of pop culture and recovery.

Listen to our first season here or here!

And Sloshed Cinema will be back in July with all new episodes.

I’m talking

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“Talks too much.”

That’s what they always said. They, ubiquitous they. They who fill out report cards. They who guide boring class field trips. They who lead tedious classroom discussions. They who never understood the true value and genius of my side conversations. They had no sense of humor. They were only interested in policing creativity. Truth? They were probably underpaid and exhausted by smartasses like myself who knew it all and had to comment on every. fucking. thing. “Not everything needs an editorial, you know,” an old friend once told me. While this friend and even “they” were probably right, I just couldn’t help myself. I still can’t. talking too much in the digital age, as luck would have it, is a good thing. As a blogger, a podcaster and a tweeter, I am now offered endless opportunities to never shut the hell up. I write plays and my favorite part has always been long stretches of ambling dialogue. I wrote a show once and someone who read it told me, “Wow. You really love people just standing around talking.” Guilty as charged. When I finished a new show last year, something didn’t click. Although, it was a monologue show (a wet dream for someone who likes to write shows where people just stand around and talk) there was something missing. that something? Me. seemingly overnight, I couldn’t fake wanting to write for other characters anymore.It started to ring hollow. It felt like I was pushing phony conversations I didn’t actually want to have. Turns out, the character that couldn’t wait to open his mouth was the character who wouldn’t shut up during class all those years ago. Turns out, I wanted to write for me.

That’s how we, you and I, got here. It’s me talking. My old beloved blog where I met so many people and learned so much kind of talked about my journey of being recovery and that was sort of it. And while I’m still in recovery and not some fucking crazy person who woke up and thought they could drink like a gentlemen, I want to talk about other stuff too. Life has given me opportunity to write about pop culture so I’ll talk about that since it’s an obsession and something I love yammering about. And I’m gay so I’ll talk about that because that still seems like something people get all fucked up about. And of course I’ll talk about being sober and the other assorted mental health delights I get to have. The images here are all mine or manipulated and changed by me so they become mine. I’m learning to talk with pictures too so maybe my next monologue show will be standing around showing you pictures. I know. You’ve already bought your ticket. So if you’d like to use any of them, reach out to me. I’m no professional photographer and just another tool with an iPhone who likes taking pictures of his french fries. Translation: I’d be thrilled if you wanted to use them and will probably be very easy/accommodating. I guess I should also mention that in true monologue style I’m not really going to get my grammar panties in a wad and edit 4 billion times. I want to talk and have a brain vomit, sort of stream of consciousness ramble. Like Jack Kerouac crossed with a drunk Care Bear. Or something. So yeah. I’m talking.

(thanks for listening)