sobriety – f-your blog

Pentagram -Last Days Here

I’m a massive fan of the early Ozzy led Black Sabbath, but when I heard the Heavy/ Doom Metal band Pentagram I was awe struck. In my honest and vastly unpopular opinion that Pentagram exceeds Black Sabbath not in lyrical content but in Advanced Musical Techniques/Style of the Doom Metal. Pentagram’s music was more evolved than Black Sabbath even if both bands got their start around the same time. Based on my opinion I fully believe Pentagram and not Black Sabbath should receive the dubious honor of being the first pioneers of Heavy Metal (because without the precursor of Doom Metal then the Heavy Metal genre wouldn’t have come to be).

Last Days Here is the 2011 Documentary film featuring Bobby Liebling, lead singer of the American heavy metal band Pentagram Directed by Don Argott and Demian Fenton.

Pentagram- Last Days Here Synopsis:

Co-Director Fenton first became familiar with Liebling after listening to Pentagram’s 1970s recordings on cassette tape and the 2001 compilation First Daze Here, and enjoying the early Pentagram material. He had heard the rumors surrounding Liebling, including him living in the basement of his parent’s house and spending all day and night heavily ingesting illegal drugs.

Last Days Here follows Bobby Liebling, lead singer of Pentagram, an Alexandria, Virgina-based heavy metal group founded in 1971 and active sporadically throughout the following four decades. At the film’s beginning , Liebling is in his 50s, living in Squalor in his parents’ basement, and addicted to various drugs (Pills, Heroin, and Crack). After Pentagram’s music is rediscovered by the heavy metal underground scene, Liebling begins to recover from his lifestyle. His friend and manager Sean “Pellet” Pelletier attempts to help Liebling overcome his drug addiction and escape his old life. The film ends in 2010 with Liebling and Pentagram returning to the stage and Liebling sober, married and his new wife expecting their first child.

Enjoy.

Heavy Metal NEVER Dies!

Presented BY Otto Rageous

WITHDRAWALS OF THE MISUNDERSTOOD PART 1

Hey Spacedog here….

It’s been a while. There was not going to originally be a post until next week but I just decided yesterday that enough was enough. What is it that I am coming off of you ask?

Well first off, my absence from here is mostly pandemic related. Out of all the billions of individuals in the world, I am probably in the top 1% of people with insane paranoid reactions. Eventually though I kinda grew to like it. I got to wear a mask so no one would know who I was. I didn’t have to worry if suddenly after 8 years of grand mal seizures today would be the day and I’d go straight into the Delaware River on my way to my doctor’s office. And I didn’t have to have any house guests! I became the Maybelline Girl. Maybe she’s born with it maybe it’s Maybelline! I was born for this.

Anyway….

So I’ve got to say I have been quite a bit off about one thing I have been telling people recently. My sobriety date from alcohol…. I really thought I drank this year. Nope the receipts clearly show November 17, 2019. Not that the difference between that and February 1st really matters much to me. All I know is the last 3 times I drank were rum, beer, and sparkling seltzer in that order. The rum tasted stale so I ended up dumping 4 ozs of a 14 oz bottle. The beer I ended up having to just toss after 5 of 12 because frankly it made me feel beyond shitty. As for the sparkling seltzer it was surprisingly good but actually still made me feel awful afterwards. Most of these manifestations I describe above were physical.

I sorta just quit. I did not need any bells and whistles or pats on the back. I kinda just did it on my own and it was mine and mine alone. No one could brag about how wonderful of a person they were to get me sober (while doing meth on the side, thanks AA Sponsor #6) or how they were so vital to my recovery (Here looking at you Sponsor #4, enjoy the oxys). Frankly I just did not care anymore. I guess I’m at day 275 or 276 or something for those who are counting. Frankly I’m not…..

So what is it I am coming off of right now? It’s nothing sexy or dangerous like meth or heroin or molly or crack or coke. Just some plain old cigarettes and coffee.

I can honestly say I feel entirely better than I thought I would at this point. I am a master at coming off of drugs, but sadly I am a bit rusty. I feel between all the antidepressants, heroin (several times), alcohol, and mood stabilizers I have been in this moment at least 30 different occasions before.

This occasion is really mild. The heroin was the worst by far but only when I was snorting it. I honestly only even got minor withdrawal no matter how much I shot. Alcohol I had about 2 Leaving Las Vegas spells in my 20s, but not really any withdrawal other than that.

The anti-depressants quite honestly to me were the biggest joke as well as the hardest legal drugs I have ever had to come off of. Depakote, lithium, effexor, paxil, prozac, seroquil, serzone. A laundry list of harm to me. Suicidal, emotionless, too much fake joy, sexless, mania, and winner winner chicken dinner homicidal respectively.

I seriously called poison control when it came to the Serzone. I kept thinking of what kind of knives my neighbors had and what it would be like to use them. And my nails look like I applied a bright coat of dark pink nail polish. P Control literally had no idea how to help me with what was going on. I called my friend Seth on the phone a few minutes later and he informed me he was on that garbage and to have some milk. A minute later my nails returned to normal, my thoughts came back shortly after.

Honestly coffee was going to be a battle for next week to give up but as I settled in on my couch at home I smelled the faint scent of flowers. It was mostly roses but maybe some lavender or lilac. I usually get this when my spirit guide is nearby. Anyway so I figured I’d just go to bed. At 6pm.

Then woke up at 130 and started writing this blog. I think I wholeheartedly can say that 1:30AM is a shitty ass time to wake up. I suppose this would be the absolute perfect time to wake up if I were say a rapist. Boom sober, boom bar, boom victim and whatever else rapey people do in between. Spray themselves down with the most vile of scents. I’m sure there are nice smelling rapists but frankly none of my rapists were Glade Scent Stories inspired. Obscure reference I know…. glade scent stories were this little thing that looked like a CD Walkman and you put the CD in and it would through a few scents per CD.

Physically though I’m feeling pretty good all things considered. I was highly disappointed that I was not able to pick out any online courses last evening but if my path is less than 24 hours off I really shouldn’t let myself worry too much. I really am not missing the cigarettes a whole lot especially without that stupid nicotine patch making my arm itch like crazy.

Coffee…. well I’ve just been trying to find any and all negative information. All I know is it comes from a plant and well I am inching oh so close to the Carnivore Diet or something similar. I still haven’t felt right since I juiced kale, zucchini, brocolli and lime. It tasted terrible. Rape victim of the jolly Green Giant terrible. Threw up 30 minutes later and passed out for 2.5 hours after.

So coffee….wheeeeee….. I probably should have tapered off down to 1 cup a day before I quit but I’m always up for a bigger challenge and a better suffering at this point. I’ve been drinking 3-5 cups a day for a few weeks. All this self imposed lockdown, this suffering, this absence of bliss will pay off in spades one day I tell myself.

I just don’t want to be half sober. I feel all of these people out there in Alcoholics Anonymous and all these other recovery programs are the biggest bunch of hypocrites on the planet. They are following around a plan based on 80 years of complete horseshit and pseudoscience. I guess I get it though. Most people are too weak and broken to get better on their own. They never seek their answers within and only rely on outside counsel. They drink coffee like fish, chain smoke like the marlboro man, and eat some of the worst cookies on the planet. Like seriously maybe I hadn’t been to a meeting in a while, but Chips Ahoy?

I see most of these people now for what they truly are. A bunch of dry drunks going around who like to preach to others because it gives them a sense of self importance. My way or the highway they say.

The absolute funniest thing about these people is they will engage you in normal conversation until you mention that you are not in AA. It’s like I single-handedly broke the matrix somehow. Seriously far more people get sober when not in this archaic broken program. The effectiveness is probably somewhere between aspirin between the knees and self baptism in your favorite local polluted body of water. I guess I shouldn’t knock anyone though it’s just frustrating.

I was put on this Earth to help others and sometimes I think the only way I am going to be able to do it is lie my teeth off. Sure I can lie my teeth off if I meet you somewhere by random chance….. like if I needed to come up with a BS story for my Grubhub driver or a grocery store clerk. When it comes to write though I don’t have that luxury. It’s just not in my blood. Brutal honesty or no writing. Only two options here.

But the moral of the story is it is only day 2 and day 1. cigarettes and coffee. It would be nice to be able to honestly just listen in to an AA meeting but I know I am not welcome at any. Well of course I am just not one meeting in particular I went to drunk because my wonderful sponsor #3 thought that Tori Amos concerts were going to somehow involve me shooting meth and going to circuit parties.

man I pick the winners! I seriously hope I don’t pick a husband as poorly one day as these sponsors. My award-winning sponsor picking is literally on par with Larry King and his fantastic wife picking. (I have no idea who any of his wives are, but I just assume if that many people would willing marry someone he either has a giant penis or a giant bank account) .

Gotta pick courses now will post tomorrow if I am not dead already.

By Spacedog

A whine, a whine, and cake

This month has been incredibly hard for me. With my new found dedication to my mind, body, and spirit which includes sobriety, health, and meditation has come a lot of new found pitfalls. Not really new just that I thought quitting smoking would come very easy to me like quitting drugs or quitting drinking, but those did not come on the first try so why should this have.

It has kept me from writing as much I would have liked. But changes need to be imminent, otherwise change will never occur.

That being said. I started writing this yesterday however I needed a bit of a kick in the ass, a nice taste of stupid people, and a little bit of eye candy.

Unfortunately all I saw at the gym were five foot tall power lifting gym rat muscle heads. I’m pretty sure one stood at maybe 4’4″. I always find it cute with double numbers, just not with those two. I guess if I liked women I would like 44 better. I mean Pam Anderson does have a nice rack.

Ugh so all these people that think they can drive the speed limit or better in the snow are amusing. It’s not that bad out yet, maybe two or three inches and people drive like they are God. I am waiting for someone to crash into the median in front of me at some point. It would be pretty funny unless an airbag went off or glass broke. Most silly accidents like that are relatively funny.

OK I’ll stop being sick in the head. The funniest thing about the snow is there is always someone on TV shoveling it way, way, way too early. In this case about 15 hours too early. And he looked 70. I wish there was a way to broadcast to all elderly people when they are cutting up.

Or anyone really. Like sometimes my conscious mind seems to take a trip to a far away galaxy. There should be a chip in my head. Bad Spacedog, Bad Spacedog!!!! And transport me to some shackles.

That all being said…..I am not in the mood to bitch a whole lot more.

I am in the mood for cake. An entire cake…. decadent, lascivious, homemade, mouthwatering.

Men are like cake.
If I could I would eat cake everyday.
For every meal.
Then I would waddle eventually.
Overly indulged I would not want cake ever again.

Men are like that. You have too many, you will end up waddling or walking with a certain slant or strange visitors in your nooks and crannies.

Yet there are so many kinds of cake. It’s easy to find any old piece of cake. A vanilla with vanilla frosting or a chocolate cake. Minors are kind of like cupcakes. When you are a little cupcake, they are nice and tasty and big cakes are rather frightening or daunting or cumbersome. Hopefully we grow out of cupcakes.

Sometimes I still feel like a cupcake or I feel like eating one but I like a biT more satisfaction. And besides cupcakes don’t come in as many flavors.

And my favorite cake. I’m not really sure. My favorite cakes changes from year to year to year. Right now it probably would be Black Forest. But if I went around looking for a man that was black forest I would probably find something similar but not the same. Like a chocolate cheesecake covered in cherries.

But it’s easy to find cheesecake too. In fact most of the men in this world are cheesecakes. You can top them with strawberries, cherries, blueberries but guess what? They are still cheesecake underneath it all. Maybe if I liked cheesecake I would have been the type of person that has had a piece of cake under my grubby little fingers since I was 16 years old but I’ve never really been the biggest fan of cheesecake. It probably would be easier. But why just settle for the cheesecake?

I’d even take my second favorite cake, Triple Mousse. Then I find Triple Mousse and realize that cake is no longer what I want. I suddenly am allergic to chocolate. I suddenly am allergic to you. I ponder and I plot and I worry about what I am supposed to do. It would be nice if I could put a rain check on the Mousse or the Black Forest.

But then some days I want pie. And on those days I hide. I love lemon meringue and I love key lime, but the pie sometimes symbolizes what is wrong with life. It is so convenient and so easy, like the crack cocaine of sweets. Hostess and Tastycake and Drakes offer it for a dollar or less at times and it is so accessible. It calls right there and screams my name. It is easy to resist but hard like all other bad things can be at times.

So I sit here on this post snowy day wondering what exactly Christmas cookies are.

Then I wonder about Advent calendars. Why can’t their just be a man hiding behind the many days leading up to Christmas? That I can take with me and wake up under the Christmas tree and then just put him away a few days after New Years and forget about him and throw him in the crawl space until the following December.

I suppose some things will never be perfect in the world.

By SpaceDog

Life Without Beer??? WHAT!!!

So recently I decided as an experiment to put down the beer for 2 weeks. I put down the hard liquor and all that other stuff and drugs, but couldn’t help myself to a few whipits, I mean the jackassed government only gives me $14 of food stamps a month and I can’t use this on smokes or beer so what better.

So I did this experiment, still felt like shit and got drunk. I went overboard but whatelse is new. Hard liquor, control, and my presence usually equal drama. For as little drama as I supply sober, I more then make up a few shots, no wait it really only takes one drink to get the drama train started.

Yeah blah blah blah. So I went back to beer. Drama really doesn’t happen with beer unless I’m drinking because I’m sad and well I’ve only done that drink beer sad thing twice in the past year. First time ended with a broken emergency supply kit in my vehicle (and a very angry friend’s grandmother who wants to crucify me) and the second time ended with a seven hour phone call. Maybe longer. Not sure, was worshipping the porcelin god in my bathroom.

So twice in a year isn’t so bad. It’s far worse with hard.

Long story short. I think I have a gluten allergy. Which means no beer!!!! I can get over the lack of chips and pretzels and processed crap and bread but no beer!!!!

All I know is I am A LOT happier the past week and certain ailments (most notably dry skin and random happy 31st birthday acne) have mystically cleared up.

Right now, I feel like Courtney Love probably felt when she was becoming an actress like, “Oh shit I need to put on a dress AND underwear??? And pose like a lady ??? And not get drunk that bad!!!!???? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!”.

Well she only lasted well maybe a year or two before she was drunk and screaming at Madonna on MTV.

Anyway that’s how I feel. I am not ready to put on professional people clothes and wear ties and drink glasses on wine with equally stuffy people sipping on cosmos. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

I mean I’m more a box of wine type, but there’s no good place to put that in my car. It’s like when I used to travel with my hooka, it was great company for trips by oneself but I like red wine and I’m a bit of a mess.

So does anyone have ideas of either A) What I should drink? B) Where I should drink? OR C) The next establishment they would like to see me banned from. (and YES I have not been bannished from anywhere since “ASSGATE” in Philly. Almost 3 years ago!!!!!)

Brought to you by,

SpaceDog