CLEAN AND GREEN PART ONE

My Dearest Brothers and Sisters:

Thanks for the love and support over the past two years.
Addiction is a crummy way to live.
It's  hard on the pocketbook and even harder on the soul..
I think I'm finally over my druggee phase.
 I hope.
The last time I was one hundred percent "clean," including tobacco, was around January of 2005.
This time, I tried some new methods that seemed to work, including Suboxone, which I had had success with in the past.
Suboxone Replacement Therapy, as it's nicely known, helped me get clean once before, and did again this time.
 With the help of Suboxone, and  Dr.Russell Meetze I have, once again, and hopefully for the last time, put the Sleeper Hold On Satan and The Body Slam on Sin.

Some Thoughts on Suboxone, Addiction, And Clean And Green Sobriety: 


Introduction:
My world  started to slowly unravel back around 1996. My marriage tanked. my mom got cancer, I.R.S. troubles , Mom died, dad remarried, dad died, gigs started to slack off, all in the course of about six years. 
The best I can figure, (addicts always look for that one thing they could have done different), something went haywire in my body from all the stress, and I began experiencing horrible, excruciating, brutal kidney stone attacks every three to four months for the next ten years.
 I guess that stress is what caused them.
 I guess.
I tried every diet, pill, herb, guided meditation (picture your urethra as long. flowing canal of peace), along with gallons of water a day, to no avail.
Anyway-
At that time, I was still  active in N.A. Although I began shying away around '96, I picked up my ten year chip in '98.
And-
 I had begun getting kidney stones on a regular basis.
So-
I started requiring large amounts of extremely powerful prescription narcotics to be able to stand the pain of of what I called "Satan's B.B.'s."

I didn't know what else to do, other than take the pills, tell "The B.B. Gun" joke and keep playing.

One morning, try as I might to screen the applicants, I woke up with a new roommate named Mr. Jones..

Rewind:
Back in '84, I used to have a bit in my shows called "Mr. Clown."
Mr. Clown was a kid's trash can with a smiling clown face on it. I would hold Mr. Clown upside down so that he was frowning, while telling the audience:
"Hey kids, Mr. Clown is upset because he knows you take DRUGS!!!
"And the way we make him happy (turning him right side up) is for you to come and put allll your drugs in Mr. Clown."
It worked.
A little too well.
I got lots of Cocaine, some great buds (which I gave away< because t that time, I hated weed,) and one night in Baltimore:
 Someone threw in a bottle containing a dozen tablets of something called Demerol.
The next night, on top of around a dozen beers, I tried one.
It sucked, I threw up and felt like shit.
A few days later, sitting upstairs in my cousin's carriage apartment, with one of John Waters' actresses',  I tried another one..
The ooey gooey feeling began in my toes.
And crept it's way up my legs.
 It felt like I was being stripped and dipped head first, in warm honey  by a Lesbian Biker gang; while simultaneously recovering from the most eye rolling self-induced (always the best) orgasm possible. 

And then it got good to me.
 A little too good.

Next:
Recovery Round One.