I decide to turn my life and my will over to God.
This has been one of my blocks to taking 12-steps seriously. Turning your life over to God? That sounds Christian. Oy vey!
But guess what? I changed religions, changed locations, changed professions, changed girlfriends, and my demons were not diminished. My addictions have so perverted my life that I have to empty myself and let go and let God, even if that sounds Christian.
It’s humbling to come back in my old age to an idea propounded throughout my childhood by my preacher daddy.
By the actuarial tables, I’m closer to death than to my birth.
I could use my prayer time to ask God to help me to stay free of addictive behavior.
Last night, I went to two James Bond films at LACMA and I met a woman named Christine who was slim but wore a low-cut shirt and a bra that made her look like the most voluptuous woman in the world.
Raised in Berkeley, she’d only once been inside a church (for a wedding) and never inside a synagogue.
Cleavage drives me crazy. Oy, I need to call my sponsor.
Instead of just saying my prayers by rote, I might actually try talking to God about what I’m battling.
Everybody I’ve known well I’ve exploited to satisfy my addictive needs. Even Dennis Prager.
I look back and I see that I’m a user and a manipulator. And I can’t simply will myself to stop doing that.
It’s imprinted in me that the breast will run dry and I have to suck every drop I can get right now.
Wow, I’ve pretty much used everybody I’ve known. Every rabbi. Every shul.
Wow, I just wrinkled my brain, man.
What are my favorite ways of manipulating people? Tell them that they’ve changed my life for the good. That makes ’em want to adopt me.
Let them feel like they’ve made an impact on me. Then let them buy me dinner.