Unfortunately, I have to say that the crazy is alive & well in AA. This should come as no surprise, but this took me aback for a moment, even at AA. So this guy, the one with the crazy, sports a gaudy gold chain with a three inch cross or so on it, and not to be overly stereotypical, but this looks odd on a middle aged (probably 50 or so) balding white guy with a salt & pepper mustache and tastes in clothes about as good as mine. That was Clue 1. He has also talked a lotta God when he has spoken before, which is often in the few times I’ve seen him as he is one of the chronic relapsers who has finally gotten serious about sobriety, gotten a sponsor and really wants to talk about it. A lot times, a lot of good stuff gets said by these people. I think he may be the exception. He begins with the standard congrats to birthdays and welcome to newcomers and thanks for the topic what a great topic, then rambles on for a little while (he has loud, kind of high pitched, kind of gravelly voice, too – the one at a crowded bar that you can hear from across the room over blaring music and voices) and then wraps it up like this: “And I just wanna say, I believe in God. I mean, I really really believe in God. I mean, I’ve seen Jesus, he’s appeared to me, I’ve seen his face! Right in front of me! Just like you’re in front of me. I’m serious, I had to talk to my priest about this and everything! And I wasn’t even stoned when I saw him!” There was something about him having been made a minister in his church just last week, too, but he’d kind of lost steam by then (I think he’s been clean and sober about a week and a half or maybe two, so not really sure how that plays). Really, dude? Really really? Holy shit. I’m pretty sure I held everything back except for what I hope was a subtle eye-roll and a whispered, “Oh Jesus,” which seemed kind of apropos after it escaped me. I had my face buried in the book that the reading had come from (I was catching up because I’d missed the first part of the meeting because I was at a life-drawing class, about which more later), so I don’t think anyone noticed my momentary lapse into complete disdain. And most of the room seemed to just nod along, like, right on, man, yeah, you totally saw that. I mean, perhaps not. He may have been that insistent about it because he sensed some incredulity in the room.
Needless to say, in the midst of what I took at the time to be the credulity floating fairy-like through the minds in the room, I felt out of place, as I often do at many meetings wherein the God-talk gets thick and heavy-handed, which is quite a few of them. And besides that, revisiting the current favorite isolation them, at the moment, I’m also in the awkward position of feeling out of place with a lot of the Atheist groups around. A lot of them meet in bars, and I’m not yet comfortable with the idea of heading to a bar for whatever reason. And then, as an example, when discussing the upcoming American Atheist National convention at a small, generally convivial gathering of Atheists, someone made the joke, “No, no, the other AA, the good one,” at which I too timidly tossed out, “Well, you can be both. Just, you know, saying,” but I don’t think anyone heard me or took notice. At any rate, I felt awkward and out of place from thereon out for the rest of the meeting, probably unnecessarily so, but still I just sat and didn’t say much for the rest of the meeting. Except when somebody mentioned the much bandied “No atheists in foxholes” line, at which I had to concur, “Yeah, I fucking hate that. I usually just point them to the website and list some friends.” I don’t think anyone gathered from this that I myself had been a soldier at one point (although very religious at the time, and hardly in a foxhole), but that’s not really surprising since the person talking about that was a vet that had been wounded in combat and therefore, rightly so, was much more an authority on the subject than me. (How a meteorologist gets wounded in combat, I’m not precisely sure.) Anyway, moving on.
It is now the previously referenced later. This life-drawing class is almost the most therapeutic thing I’ve found so far. This was the second class, and while I didn’t feel as good about the work I produced during the class as I did the first one, it was still a wonderful class and I am delighted that I’ve begun to draw again. I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time, actually, but before now, I was too busy getting drunk, and even when I wasn’t, I was too shaky to do any drawing, much less produce anything resembling a straight line. Hell, I couldn’t even write, and there were days when the shaking was getting so bad I couldn’t even really type. So every time I pick up a pencil or stick of charcoal, it is in fact a celebration of freedom from the prison that had become my racked forearms and hands.
And! I had a more or less pleasant random social interaction at the class last night. This seems like a fairly minor thing, and in some way, it is. In another way, it’s huge for me. When the woman next to me saw me popping an ear-bud in from my iPod so I could listen to American Freethought’s podcast while I worked, she said, “Oh, music. Now that was a good idea.” Now, at first, it didn’t occur to me that this was an attempt at talking, and I responded, “Well, actually, Podcast, but , yeah. I love having this.” “Oh, yeah? What Podcast?” “Um, American Freethought.” “Oh, cool.” Then it was time to draw. The longsuffering model took a break, and I looked over. Internal dialogue: Say something. Say something, anything, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Remember what they said, you just say, Hi, or whatever. I see that she’s wearing a Conan O’Brien Late Late Show T-Shirt. “So did you actually get to go see Conan tape a show?” “Yeah, I did!” “Really, that’s awesome! How was it?” “I went in ’06,” she begins, which I misheard as her saying that she went when she was 6, which led to a further awkward moment where she thought I was asking how old she was, which, granted, would have been incredibly fucking rude of me. But then she went on about how she was the last person to get in the show, and the friends she’d been standing in line with for hours and hours didn’t get to go, but she actually got to be part of a skit, and so it was a fantastic time anyway. And all I had to do was think it was really cool that this stranger, whose name, of course, I never did ask and still manage to bumble quite a bit (Progress, not Perfection, even in the little shit, I guess). Didn’t say another word to her the rest of the class, but still, it was a fairly normal social interaction with a person. Baby steps.