First of all, I guess I don’t get to run this classical little bon mot anymore:
I have to admit when I first came across the news at Storm in a Wine Glass, I was a little surprised… but not a whole lot. And then reading the disappointing and totally unsurprising 3 ‘graphs at Consequence of Sound simply affirmed what I guess is the best to settle for. I mean, after all, Keith is the one who reportedly [i.e. never happened] had two complete blood transfusions to clean up his system. Be that as it may, here’s Keith’s take in Rolling Stone on the big shift:
“It’s been about a year now,” Richards says quietly. “I pulled the plug on it. I got fed up with it.” While he admits he still has “a glass of wine occasionally, and a beer,” it’s a major step for a guy whose hedonism is a key part of his legend. “It was time to quit,” Richards says. “Just like all the other stuff.” Was it an adjustment? “You can call it that, yeah,” he says with a laugh. “But I don’t notice any difference really – except for I don’t drink. I wasn’t feeling [right]. I’ve done it. I didn’t want that anymore.”
The Stones. Wow… It’s been pretty interesting to watching these guys live a lot longer than they probably planned on. But, hey! That happens to a lot of us, moi assi. Oh, well. Enjoy.
Friends and Lovers I learned quite a bit about myself today thanks to Shirley Smith, and we don’t even officially know each other. I like the degrees of separation thingy…Like I know Grace M. 1,656 more words
Outstanding post from one of my regular reads that brings back some old, yet still quite memorable moments in time. I hardly know where to begin. Joy and I have hit some amazing resorts in the Caribbean and Mexico: the Dominican Republic (2x), Costa Rica, and both Mexican coasts (4x) have left indelible imprints in what is left of my memory cells. That being said…
It was on our Feb. 27th, 2010, flight home from my weeklong 60th birthday party at the Moon Palace in Punta Cana that we had a conversation as to whether we may have an alcohol problem. Gotta start somewhere, right? BTW, just for the record, in every photo in that particular photo album, no matter where I am or what I’m doing or what time of day or night, I have a serious drink in my hand. Which is probably why precisely one month later I introduced myself at a meeting Club East and said, “My name is Greg and I’m an alcoholic.”
So for that reason, I love what time flies… says about dealing with crises in a sober life on life’s sober terms. The following is one example of several in a very profound entry, so go read the whole thing.
The first took me by surprise almost immediately upon arriving in Mazatlan. My parents and their friends were out of control! I’m talking folks in their 70s (in varying degrees of physical shape and general health) being so drunk they were stumbling and falling down on cobblestone streets and around a pool. I felt like I was babysitting, and it really pissed me off!
Via Anna at Storm in a Wine Glass comes one of life’s hair-shirt adventures most — if not all — of us have lived through at least once. This one was played out by her “normal teenager” son Bambino. It’s fair to say that, for Anna, the dèjá vu was pretty freaking overwhelming:
I was once a teenager too. I knew this was coming. I was roughly Bambino’s age the first time I chugged vodka from a bottle a friend and I had nicked from her parents (and later filled up with water). So it’s not like I was going around thinking Bambino is some little angel who will only taste alcohol once he is of legal age. Hah! That’s a lie. I didn’t see this coming. I did and I didn’t. I think I just didn’t see it happening this way, so brazenly and violently right in front of me. I feel so stupid I can’t even begin to tell you. But I can tell you how my heart was breaking when I last night checked in on Bambino before bedtime and tried to ask him if he’d felt like he couldn’t stop once he started. It was a stupid thing to ask and I don’t know what answer I expected. I got all this so very wrong.
Although Joy and I have three dogs and no kids, I feel it’s insightful of me to add that I used to be a kid and, like most of the folks around me the last 8½ years, I got my alcohol-based training wheels off at an early age due to family environment. No wonder Anna’s concerned, to say the very least.
Read the whole thing. She does a terrific job of parsing out her heart on the situation and weighing truth against her beliefs.
Guinevere at guineveregetssober.com revisits the death of rocker Tom Petty, whose mid-tour death last fall left the music industry stunned and fans broken-hearted. To say the least, I was amazed and just a little angered when I finished reading her post and pondering things.
The Los Angeles medical examiner today announced autopsy results for Tom Petty, who was found dead last fall: it was found that he died of a heart attack caused by an accidental drug overdose. His body had traces of three different kinds of fentanyl—which seems to be ubiquitous in ODs involving opioids, particularly heroin, these days, and which was prescribed to Petty for pain—and also oxycodone (the drug in OxyContin) as well as two different benzodiazepines (Xanax and Restoril).
As they used to say when I was a kid: Enough drugs to kill a horse.