(tho we are on the phone and not technically on our knees, lord father)

I notice the new drug, though it's early yet for an anti-depressant.

Some supple ballooning , a harmless inhaling and exhaling like an aneurysm... in the neural pathways... mediating reward.,,,

A new thought!

a novel feeling, rises and perishes.

"Capable of withstanding stress without injury," translated

as a swelling of my heart.

I think it's my imagination rigged with hope.
____
Rising from bed I wondered, "Why do I tread so softly, I am not disturbing anyone. I'm alone."

And hey this is the basement.

Then yesterday, what was I doing, staring at Nicole.

Such studied perfection in her hair and makeup, even in her musculature, she's the shape her trainer makes her, working out. All her light cotton sundresses; white and coral halter, fit and flair skirt. One time an oleo chiffon pineapple eye popping inappropriate ...why do I associate those two words, oleo and chiffon,Television Man ....

another time an orange butterfly print dress, the fabric pleated over her small breasts; my fingers want to play, to trace, I wanted to feel the pleating with my palms, press and the softness underneath.

White shoes with busy laces tied up around her tanned ankles ....

Quilty said "I'd like to be burned at the stake with that girl."

She's early at the club and has her American History book open as she chats with the younger men. In American History I am a dilettante, I've been skimming it over since I was eight.

Say!

But Nicole slammed the book shut. "So boring, my gawd!"

Someone asked what she was reading about.

"Oh. From Underground Railroads to Strikes in the 30's. Who cares!!!!??? (palms up, a drawn out yelling, who 'caaaaaares').

"Those people didn't even have sex back then," she laughed.

Everyone up north thinks their family-home was part of the underground railroad. If it has a basement, that is. Strikers.... My granddad Jiggs clubbed those guys in their tents.

No, he didn't! Why would I want to say such things?? And you just know she's read the Grapes of Wrath.

This is what it means to be a stinker.
_____
My girlfriend stopped accepting my calls two weeks ago. I tell people this as if I'm asking them, what would you conclude? And they're so kind, except for my best friend, who says well if it was me I'd, eh, read into the situation, John, in pretty plain English, I'd read the situation, not between the lines or anything, just that, well it doesn't even take analysis really, let's quickly review: two weeks ago she stopped talking to you. You git me? Awright then? The truth shall dislodge you, Johnny!
_____
I'm talking on the phone to Baxter almost daily over the last two weeks since his lapse. Sometime between the 29th and the 3rd he got his monthly injection. He doesn't seem to believe he's Jesus. Or, it's more like "I've got to stop believing I'm the messiah." Like giving up booze.

"Of all the people in human history, who would you most like to be, John? Jesus, right?"

I thought, heaven help this man. And isn't it odd that Napoleon was in style for so long. The average man on the street was very well informed, he read the newspapers and the history books. Napoleon must have been deeply impressive.

Baxter's voice and mood were the same, with that surprised, happy tone he always has when he calls me. Like I unexpectedly called him.

I guess it is a surprise to some people when I pick up.

"John! Hello!! Nice to hear you!"

Many people in A.A. make it a practice to check in on one another regularly, but this is new to me. I'm amusing myself. I'm serious too. I did let on that I might be going through a "break up", but that was more to excuse my monotonous tone and dampened spirits, to explain any seeming unfriendliness.

Also, if we're "sharing" it's best to come through, no? We talk for ten or twenty minutes. Then the other day as we were hanging up he surprised me. "Wait. John, do you want to pray?"

I knew what he meant. I hoped he didn't mean what I knew he meant but I said "sure".

"I use the OASPC method , John. Open, Acknowledge, Supplicate, Praise, Close. Are you ready?"

"Ok. "

The prayer was for me. I didn't expect that.

Let John,-- give to John,--- remind John, help John, send John the Comforter,--- increase his faith and reason, Lord Father we do not ask for an end to his trials or deliverance from his suffering we ask for patience and your strength...

Heavenly Father , friendships are rare, like water from the rock ...

Three minutes, he prayed for me. I started to add, here and there, in a Pat Robertson style wince, "and Baxter", "and for Baxter!". I thought of the old pay phones, where the operator might cut in and say please make cha-ching in the collection basket so I can hear it, please.

My rabbi wasn't stopping, he wasn't even in the closing phase and I thought, wait a second, this is Baxter's vice, his insanity, what is this coming to?

Finally his words began to fail. He began to reach and I missed the closing somehow. Then it was "Hey John, we've got to get out to Wal-Mart and buy some tennis rackets, you want to do that?"

Hell yes, it's Wimbleton this week, you bet , Baxter!
***
change without injury. I imagine these mad molecules of Cymbalta as a ghostly LSD spreading over my mind, and every dose I take at night is another important decision, going deeper into the woods. It's a careless surrender, it's a rebellion and self-sabotage, it's a search for the fountain of youth and all the lost, crazed seekers who disappeared before me.

...