Probably none of this is any of your business but you are welcome to hide and watch, or yell back. Mostly it’s just me talking to myself, like most blogs. My purpose, aside from capturing things I want to remember (as fallible electronic media are, my brain cells are fallibler), is to have some accountability in my process (struggle?) to clean my life up and make something of myself. The links have something to do with what I’m working on–the chonics & docs of my crackering around the place. Those were also something of a public record for me, which was important to me for the authenticity I haven’t found in other portrayals, accountings, and recountings of the malady, and for my efforts in getting out and away. Bringing the world in on it seem-ed/-s important but I’m too chicken to bring family and friends. Branching was the beginning of my accounting of the clean-up, but when drunk or high I spilled the beans to a couple close friends, I lost the space where I could be Frank N. Kandit and I had to move.
The first few weeks worth of entries here are still in the confused/confidential code I tend to slip into when I’m on coke and/or crack, or just too shamed to come out and confess my sins. It’s spotty. It should be unintelligible outside my head. I may translate. For now it stands as a testament of some sort. Especially in contrast to what follows.
Now that I’m doing a little better and have some wind beneath my cheeseball wings, I’ve got my daily to-do lists in there, my pathetic eating and exercising tracking, which I know nobody cares about. Again, this is primarily for me. I’m not here to entertain. But if you somehow stumbled upon me here and get a laugh at or with me, that’s cool.
And as I’m coming out of the cave, I’m coming out of my shell and slackening the security a little. If you’ve followed me here and found me out, congratulations. If you’ve found me out and you’re one of the people I really don’t want to face yet because I fucked things up, I’m sorry. I did/am doing what I could/can. And if you’re one of those people who have commented on my pages before about how I must think it’s cool and arty to be a drug addict or a recovering schmuck or whatever, man, I’ve never made such claims or insinuations; I’m just trying to live.
[If/when I ever get caught up with caught breath, I would love to consolidate and the mess of these disjointed pages and constant splintering and splattering. Until then…]