Recovery is too hard. Fuck it.
Not drinking is boring. Fuck it.
The fourth step is unreal. Fuck it.
What I've found with the Fuck-Its, is that they seem to come, not when some horrible event happens, but rather during a series of tiny ones that add up to a real hassle. It starts with missing the bus, and then breaking a shoelace, and then getting splashed by a car too close to the curb; then a random guy flashes you some attitude, and a vending machine eats your money. That's when, over the buck-fifty I put in the machine and got nothing back, I feel like drinking whiskey and killing people with an ax.
While the big ones (deaths, breakups, and money trouble) have been really hard on me at times, they are such obvious things to go out over that I don't really consider it. I immediately take action, go to meetings, and call my sponsor and friends, so I don't really see those as much of a relapse risk.
Those little things in life though, really fuck with my sense of control. They bring up feelings of “the world is fucking with me” or “there really is a God, and He's pissed at me for not believing in Him.” These thoughts are a sand trap. I'll get sucked in if I set foot in it. This is why the Fuck-Its scare me much more than life's big traumas.
AMY DRESNER
I met Amy Dresner in the mid-'90s on the spoken word scene. I ran an open mike in town, a notoriously debaucherous gathering where many people met their drug connections. People came for the pot or the speed or the heroin and they stayed for the poetry. Every summer, freaks of all types showed up in San Francisco, and many of them ended up at my event. Amy was one of those people.
Amy came from a good family in Beverly Hills. Most people think that the life she came from guarantees a good life, but for some of us, the end result is inevitable. Addiction is no respecter of social status. Amy was no exception.
Within a few months, Amy was indulging in drugs and hanging out with the other addicts. It doesn't take us long to find our kind in the world. In less than a year, Amy was back in southern California. There were various attempts at quitting and rehab before she finally gave up quitting on her own and decided on 12-Step recovery.
Since then, Amy has put her life back together. She is married to a good man and has repaired her family relationships. She's also pursuing her dreams of being a standup comedian.
The comedy world is second only to rock music for its reputation as a narcotic playground. Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, and Richard Pryor, the three men commonly thought of as the best comedians ever, all had substance abuse problems. Bruce died directly of his usage, and Richard Pryor did serious damage to himself while high, including setting himself on fire. The stories of Sam Kinison's drug use are legendary. Mitch Hedberg died as his career climbed in proportion with his drug use. Relative to these figures, the alcoholic seems tame by comparison.
Headliners of comedy clubs usually drink for free in the club. They don't always get paid that well, and they're often in town with little else to do, but the clubs are always serving alcohol. Booze softens the travel, the jet lag, and the rough nights in little towns. It's one of the few jobs where it's not unusual to drink during work hours. So how does Amy handle the comedy gig sober? How does she keep from relapsing while surrounded by free drinks? How about dealing with the competition, rejection, and personal politics that go along with it?
“Comedy is what I wanted to do my whole life,” Amy told me. From a young age, watching Richard Pryor standup shows on HBO, Amy wanted to tell stories and make people laugh. But she never tried it until she was clean and sober.
Amy explains, “I was terrified. Also, drug addiction was my full time job. The [12-Step] program taught me how to show up and not let fear run my life.”
She made sure she had a solid foundation in her sobriety before getting into the clubs.
“I didn't do standup at all until I had a year sober. And I'm totally out to the industry. I tell everyone on stage first thing that this is who I am. However, most people in the comedy clubs are there not only to laugh but to get fucked up. I try not to be preachy about it.
“Alcoholics have three gears: fuck you, poor me, and where's mine,” Amy says.
This applies directly to the comedy world. Behind the scenes of standup is an emotional catfight of jealousy, bitterness, and envy. There's a certain amount of entitlement and self importance that a person has to have just to get up on stage, and the ones who stick with it are often rife with such personality attributes, so much so that it works against them.
Amy continues, “I'm sensitive, like all alkies. I cry. When I have a bad set, I call other comics. There are a lot of sober comics.”
Amy counts her relationship with her higher power as the foundation of her career. “Comedy is a gift that's bestowed on me. I say ‘God, be funny through me and I'll get out of the way.’
“When I get the Fuck-Its, I really think about the consequences of using. I'm married; it would fuck that up. I have epilepsy; I'll have a seizure if I do speed again. I just know it's not going to work. I think back to the last times I used. It always ends with me in the psych ward or the hospital. If I still feel like I have the Fuck-Its, I wait it out. I go to a meeting. I share, and it passes.
“I think back to that first year. I don't want to go through that again. It was the hardest thing I've ever done,” Amy concludes.
Most of the successful comics I've met have been really nice people, but on the way to the top, there are a lot of bad attitudes, personality problems, and character defects. There are a lot of people who feel they were passed over for some superficial reason such as looks, age, or ethnicity, and resent the others who made it instead. There's unhealthy competitiveness that leads to bitterness and jealousy. There's self-pity for not having the money, time, or physical looks that the comic perceives he needs to make it.
I'm not sure where these comics are picking up the dry drunk behavior, but they have it. Some of them may have alcoholic parents, but it does remind me of the phrase “seem to have been born this way.” It's really creepy to watch these guys act like drunks without having a drink. But while there's plenty of negative behavior around, Amy focuses on the other sober comics and comics with positive attitudes.
CHAPTER 2
MORE HABITS THAN A CONVENT
I was standing in line with a fellow 12 Stepper in a supermarket. This homeless guy gets arrested for shoplifting a bottle of vodka in his pants. Being alkies, we're fixated on the detail that it was Royal Gate vodka, the cheapest swill they carried in the store. Being alkies with a few years sober, we consider ourselves armchair psychologists.
“Look at that guy,” my friend said to me. “Poor guy's esteem is so low he doesn't think he deserves to steal anything better.”
“Nah, I don't think so,” I countered. “He's been drinking that swill for so long he has some kind of emotional loyalty to it. He actually wants that more than anything else.”
“Hey, man,” my friend yelled out to the guy being searched by a security guard. “Out of all the liquor in the store, why did you steal the Royal Gate?”
The guy looks at us like we're nuts. “Because it was on sale.”
Okay, that's nothing more than a joke, and you're free to tell it like it happened to you. But the reality is that we were one of the two addicts: the one who does whatever's cheapest and most available, or the one who does the same stuff every time.
I loved the consistency of alcohol. It's in the same place during the same hours for the same price every day. A pint bottle is