Cockroaches scampered up the bed and scurried across my Greenwich Village apartment floor. I knew I was hallucinating. The empty liter of Bacardi rum glared at me next to barren packets of coke.

I was 26, sitting cross-legged like a child on my queen-sized bed. It was 6:00 a.m. and I hadn’t slept. It was 1988. A frigid March wind blew in from my windows facing Minetta Lane. Every nerve roared for more cocaine.

I watched with terror as a tarantula writhed on top of my dresser. I closed my eyes, hoping it would disappear. Tarantulas don’t live in New York but when I opened my eyes, the hairy black thing was still there.

My lap was littered with confetti-like shreds of eight-by-ten glossies. My painting portfolio. How could I have done that to the only thing I was proud of? I’d painstakingly assembled each page of the spiral book, with photos tucked safely under plastic sleeves in the hopes of finding a better job than waitressing. On one of the ripped pieces, I’d pressed down so hard with a pen that it left indents on the image. Hendrix lyrics: I don’t live today.

My mind scrabbled at the events leading to this last bender. The day before, my roommate Frederic had confronted me in the apartment. His long elegant fingers dug into my upper arms so hard it hurt. An angry vein popped out on his forehead and he shook me like a ragdoll. With tears streaming down his face he said, “If you don’t stop killing yourself, I’m leaving.”

In his eyes I could see the reflection of what I’d become. Disgusting, pathetic. Shame and self-loathing buckled my knees.

Frederic was the only person that mattered. Boyfriends came and went like subway riders. If any got too close, they’d see who I was. Or I’d decide a man’s hands were too hairy or he chewed too loudly. I’d break up with the bewildered fellow and return to my plague of loneliness. Then I’d fixate on a new crush and brood when he barely noticed me.

Happy couples on the street were a mystery. I wanted to run up and say, “How do you do that? What’s wrong with me?”

But Frederic, he was my best friend, like a loyal older brother who’d adopted me.

Our railroad apartment placed his room at the opposite end. Now, as I sat on my bed with jaw clamped in a coked-out grip and eyes bulging, I begged the universe not to let him wake up and see me like this. I’d sworn to stop after he threatened to move out. I had to because life would be unlivable without him. He was the only reason I didn’t jump out a window.

I remembered stopping off at Jimmy Day’s bar on West 4th Street for just one drink. The rest of the night was a blank.

My ashtray overflowed onto the nightstand, reflecting another broken promise to Frederic. Ever since he’d quit, he hated when I smoked. Gone were the days when we’d drink vodka together and play Scrabble for hours, chain smoking and laughing. He’d quit the cigs, cocaine, and vodka.

I emptied the ashtray into my leopard-pattern tin wastebasket. Suddenly, billowing puffs of smoke and high flames shot out of it. I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard. Slowly, I opened them again. Still roaring flames. I got up from the bed and put my palms on the sides of the tin to feel for heat. It was cold. Relieved there was no fire, I was terrified there was no sanity either.

I heard the long-ago voice of my cousin Angela, “You’re so lucky you can handle the drugs, Dor. But if you ever have a problem I’m the one to call.”

I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Ang?”

“Dor?”

After bursting into tears I slurred, “Uncle Carl had the right idea. I’m gonna get a gun and shoot myself.”

“Wait,” Angela said. “Do you have any more alcohol or cocaine?”

I had only the specs of coke that lined the empty packets and a few airplane-size bottles of Absolut stashed in my underwear drawer.

“Finish everything,” Ang said.

That was a first. People never told me to drink more.

“I’ll be there soon,” she said and hung up.

Her brother Brad called.

“Hey Sweetiepie.” It was soothing to hear his voice. “I reserved a bed for you in Florida.”

“Ooh, Florida?” I said, “Is there a pool?”

I heard the front door slam and realized I’d awakened Frederic. My throat went dry but I kept doing what I was told, scraping the last snortable flakes and downing the vodka minis.

Ang arrived at the apartment and yelled “Hey Dor!” After a bear hug she scanned the closet, grabbed a knapsack, and began to pack.

While she yanked t-shirts out of my dresser drawer I moaned with agony, “I’m out of cigarettes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything is fine.”

Being exhausted and stoned made me pliable and obedient.

Angela carried my backpack while I navigated the four flights down to the lobby, gripping the banister to keep from wobbling. When we got to her double-parked car on Macdougal, she helped me into the passenger side and buckled me in. Sure I was going to puke, I unbuckled.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

The thought of eating made me gag. I managed a slurry “no.”

“We have to eat something,” she said. “It’s a long trip to Florida and when did you last eat?”

Before I could answer or stop her, she hopped over to the shake shop across the street and came back with two vanilla shakes. I got down about half of it before I bolted from the front seat and barfed on the pavement. She came around and helped me back into the car.

We headed off to JFK airport. As soon as Ang started to drive, I passed out. I have no memory of the airport or boarding the plane. I came out of the blackout while Ang was checking me into the rehab. There was a pink-skinned lady at a desk with a dopey soccer-mom hairdo who told me to sign paperwork. Then she led me down the hall to a room. Before she closed the door, I asked her to get Angela but the woman said she’d left. My tired bones collapsed on the cot’s thin mattress and I zonked out on the flat pillow till morning.

When I awoke, I tried to piece things together. Only isolated snippets. Frozen snapshots of laughing with a bartender, making out with somebody. I looked around the sparse room and wanted to go home. I got out of the bed and walked to the door but found it locked. There were no lights on. I peeked through the Plexiglas window in the door and could see a woman at a desk. I rapped hard on the window. She smiled and came over to me.

“Where am I?” I said.

“You’re in the detox room at the Hazelden Center in West Palm Beach.”

Her voice sounded like it was coming through a cloud of cotton. I could hardly decipher what she was saying, much less comprehend it.

“What am I doing here?”

She didn’t seem surprised by my question and patiently explained I’d come the day before and my cousin had checked me in, then left, and I’d be staying with them for the next 31 days.

I told her I had to go home and needed to leave right away. I demanded she find my purse. She retrieved it from a locker and handed it to me. I looked for the sliding Bayer aspirin container with my emergency line of coke and mini straw. I couldn’t find it and became frantic. She looked at me kindly and explained they’d searched my purse and disposed of the drugs they found.

Irate, I yelled, “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, dear,” she said, “we do that for all of our patients. You’re here because you’ve agreed to stop taking drugs and you signed the intake permission form.”

I demanded to leave.

“Okay,” she said.

To my horror, I found only two dollars and loose change in my wallet. I was a long way from home with no access to money. Dizzy, I asked the woman if I could lie down again.

“Of course you can, dear. That’s a good idea.”

She helped me back into the creaky cot and I stayed for 31 days.

Written for The Fix

The post The Darkest Night of My Addiction appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

Austin Eubanks was one of the survivors from 1999’s horrific mass shooting at Columbine High School. Tragically, his best friend Corey DePooter was murdered by the gunman.  After Eubanks was severely traumatized and vulnerable, doctors began prescribing him painkillers. I know from experience, opioids are only effective for relieving short-term physical pain. They are extremely addicting and have side-effects. Long-term use can be disastrous.

Eubanks Kicked Drugs

After the shooting, Eubanks developed an opiate addiction. But at the time of our interview, he’d fought the battle of quitting drugs. Eubanks excitedly told me about his treatment and how he’d learned to live clean and sober. This is after he’d almost lost everything due to his addiction taking him to the brink.

Dealing With Survivor’s Guilt

During our interview he confided, “I could literally get whatever I wanted. Telling them I’d been shot at Columbine and lost my best friend was like getting an open prescription book from every doctor. I’d been filled with grief and survivor’s guilt. But I finally found lasting recovery.”

It has been more than two decades since this article was published. However, today, when I saw David Hoggs was trending on twitter, it brought me back to my interview with another gun violence survivor who weathered his pain by turning into an activist.

RIP Austin Eubanks (Oct 8, 1981 – May 18, 2019 ).

Those of us from Sandy Hook, Parkland, Uvalde, & Highland Park have a vision of living in a nation with no mass shootings. We thank @SpeakerPelosi @LeaderHoyer @WhipClyburn @RepCicilline for leading the effort to pass the assault weapons ban in the House of Representatives today. pic.twitter.com/1NraEelcIT

— Newtown Action Alliance (@NewtownAction) July 29, 2022

Seventeen years ago, 17-year-old Austin Eubanks was terrorized during the Columbine High School massacre. It was on April 20, 1999 and Eubanks was in the library with his best friend Corey DePooter when they heard a bomb go off. It was chaos and Eubanks ran to hide under a desk. He was shot in the arm and knee, but his deepest wounds were emotional. Austin saw his best friend murdered in a barrage of bullets.

“My injuries were not to the point of needing an opiate pain medication,” Eubanks told The Fix in an exclusive interview. “But I was immediately given a 30-day supply. Within three months I became addicted.” From then on, he said, “I used substances every day, day in and day out.”

After the shooting, his parents took him to see a therapist who said Austin was too shut down to process his horrific trauma. But the reason no one could reach him was because he was overmedicated.

“I learned to manipulate doctors,” Eubanks said. “I could literally get whatever I wanted. Telling them I’d been shot at Columbine and lost my best friend was like [getting] an open prescription book from any doctor.”

Austin never went back to school at Columbine and his parents hired a tutor. He graduated in 2000 and attended the Columbine ceremonies without setting foot back in the school. He went into advertising and married in his early 20s. He and his wife had a son, but Eubanks’ substance abuse escalated. His first attempt to get sober was in 2006. “I went to a 30-day inpatient program,” he said, “but within hours of leaving, I went right back to the same regimen—abusing pain pills and Adderall.” 

Right before Columbine, young Austin had been misdiagnosed with ADD. 

“I didn’t have ADD,” said Eubanks. “I just liked being outdoors and playing golf better than being in school. At that time, if anybody was truant at school they said, ‘Oh, they must be ADD. Let’s put them on a stimulant.’ That was why I got Adderall. I liked it because I could abuse opiate pain medication to the level that most people would be nodding out. With Adderall, I could function. Basically, I was doing oral speedballs. It was like using methamphetamine and heroin.”

His second try at living clean came in 2008. His son was three and he was separated from his wife. “That’s when I started to have an intrinsic motivation to change. I went to treatment, stayed 90 days, and achieved eight months of sobriety.”

He and his wife reunited and decided to have a second child. Another boy was born. 

“This is one of the examples that I use when I give presentations about learning every way that doesn’t work. First, I did the normal addict path. I achieved abstinence for a period of time, and built up enough false confidence to where I said, ‘I can drink, because alcohol was never a problem for me.’ I went back to drinking. After a few weeks, drinking led back to smoking weed. Smoking weed led back to Xanax, which led back to Oxycontin, and then I was right back into the same routine.”

In 2011, he was approaching 30 and estranged from his wife and kids. “My sobriety date is April 2, 2011. I woke up in a jail cell and had absolutely no idea how I got there.” 

The last thing he remembered was heading to see the Colorado Rockies baseball team on opening day. He’d been using Oxycontin and drinking, and had passed out in a restaurant. Police arrived and arrested him for probation violation. Due to his addiction, Eubanks spent years in and out of the court system for various offenses, including car theft and writing bad checks.

“I woke up, I opened my eyes in jail, sick. I was in withdrawal from opiates. I was hungover from alcohol. That was the absolute lowest moment of my life. I had ruined the marriage. I had two children I was estranged from. I told myself, ‘If I don’t stop right now, I’m going to die’ and I wasn’t ready to do that. I hit multiple rock bottoms and finally came to understand that I had learned every way that doesn’t work, and I gave up the fight to keep trying to [get sober] on my own. I went into treatment and said, ‘Tell me how to walk, how to talk, what to do and I will do it.’”

After staying mum all these years, Eubanks decided it was finally time to talk about his addiction publicly. “By talking about being at that low place in my life, it’s my attempt at helping others. I’m proof there is a path out and there’s a path out for everybody, regardless of where you are in life and what you’ve lost.”

When he finally found what he calls his “lasting recovery,” it was not in a 12-step program. “I had gone to a 12-step rehab,” said Eubanks. “I used the 12 steps, I worked them, I met with a sponsor. But I left there with two words in my mind: powerlessness and disease. Those are two dangerous words to put in somebody’s mind who is trying to enact behavioral change in their life. I’m not contesting the value of 12 steps and I’m not saying that addiction is not a disease, but I’m saying that you have to approach it from a position of empowerment to create a life for yourself that is so great you can’t imagine going back to using substances. Without that, relapse is much more common.”

He credits a therapeutic community (TC) for his long-term sobriety. “They focused on the behaviors around addiction.” He stayed for seven months. “The TC model helped me understand what was happening in my brain. I’ve always been a thinker. It was really beneficial to be able to say [to myself], ‘These decisions are happening right now in your life because this is how your brain is functioning. This is what’s happening in your prefrontal cortex. This is the reason for your impulsivity. This is what your mid-brain functionality looks like. This is what it’s going to look like at three months of abstinence. This is what it’ll look like at six months of abstinence. At a year of abstinence, if you’re able to achieve that, your brain is going to be fundamentally different than it was in the beginning.’”

Eubanks learned what his triggers were. “I could say, ‘These are impulses I’m having right now, but there’s a date on the calendar where my brain is going to be functioning differently. If I continue to exhibit pro-social behaviors and work toward that goal, I’m going to continue to make progress.’ It helped me as a roadmap.” 

Now sober five years, he works for The Foundry, a TC substance abuse treatment center in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. “We talk to people about brain function,” said Eubanks, “about transactional analysis and what that looks like; what ego states make our decisions and why impulsivity is so strong. And why an addict behaves like a rebellious child. Then we apply all that to 12-step principles, which we have found to be phenomenally beneficial for people.”

Eubanks believes that addiction is on a spectrum, similar to autism and Asperger’s. “That spectrum is dictated by a number of factors and it’s everything from IQ to socioeconomic status to somebody’s social group to the age of the first time they used. A lot of things contribute to a person’s ability to function for a life of abstinence. We have to look at that on a case-by-case basis.”

It’s true, one size does not fit all and individuals require different tools. You might have somebody able to function in an environment where there’s alcohol around and not be susceptible to relapse, while others can never be in an environment like that without the risk of slipping.

The Foundry’s TC model is based on four pillars: medical, clinical, wellness and family. Medical includes tests to determine blood levels and how a patient metabolizes medication. When appropriate, medication is prescribed. Clinical includes counseling, observation, and treatment to help patients cope with behavioral, mental and emotional problems that interfere with their daily lives. Wellness may include yoga, diet and exercise to help build a better life. Family may involve working with families on a weekly basis and then bringing them out for a family intensive, where they go through the curricula for three days with other families.

“The message I want to send to people is to ask for help,” Eubanks said. “I lived in the dark for over a decade in my addiction. I could never see the path out. Ask for help because it’s there. I finally took the road of recovery and never looked back. Through that process, I was able to re-establish a relationship with my children that is fantastic today. They play a big part in my life. I have a functional relationship with my ex-wife, who is now remarried and I’m recently engaged and going to be married again. Life is too good to ever consider going back to where I was.”

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By Olivia Pennell

Can’t I just hibernate through the whole thing?

There are also the pressures and demands to buy presents and attend celebratory parties, meals and events that I don’t want to go to. All-in-all, for someone in recovery-particularly an empath-this can lead to sensory overload. And I am not alone.

Dorri Olds, Freelance Writer and person in long-term recovery says this:

“I don’t like to be known as a Scrooge but bah humbug to the damn holidays. It’s a time filled with family obligations, work-related parties and I’d rather stay home with my dog. I’m recently single after my spouse relapsed on heroin seven months ago so I’m especially sensitive. I have cravings to drink and drug even though I’ve been sober a long time now. Seeing and hearing happy-looking couples clinking glasses at restaurants makes my neck and back tense up.

Walking around Manhattan this time of year gets stressful because of store sales and crowded streets of tourists bumping into me. At parties the smell of liquor wafts up my nose and pulls me towards it. I often leave parties quickly because of that and because small talk tends to make me feel lonelier. Sometimes it feels so awkward to leave early. I never know whether to try to quietly slip out or go find the host to say goodbye when I know I’ll get the big question, “Why are you leaving so soon?” Then I don’t know whether to tell the truth or lie about having to be somewhere.”

Read more…

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Hep C Hadn’t Made Me Sick Enough?

The post Chasing a Cure for Hepatitis C | The Fix appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

I first heard of addiction horror through Michele Weinstat Miller. I wrote about her first two books, “The Thirteenth Step: Zombie Recovery” and “Widow-In-Law,” for The Fix—the largest addiction and recovery website. She introduced me to author Mark Matthews who also writes in the genre of addiction horror. I interviewed him for my latest article “Halloween Special: Tales of Addiction.” his new anthology, Lullabies for Suffering: Tales of Addiction Horror.

Mark Matthews spent years fighting the insatiable monster that screams for more. He says that he still dreams about the electricity of cocaine, the soothing caress of heroin, the heaven in a bottle of Stoli vodka. But the party for him ended long ago. By age 23, Matthews was a wreck. He had alcoholic hepatitis of the liver, swollen pancreas, and a bleeding stomach. 

The Fix article begins with my favorite Matthews quote:

Mark Matthews spent years fighting the insatiable monster that screams for more. He says that he still dreams about the electricity of cocaine, the soothing caress of heroin, the heaven in a bottle of Stoli vodka. But the party for him ended long ago. By age 23, Matthews was a wreck. He had alcoholic hepatitis of the liver, swollen pancreas, and a bleeding stomach. 

After several failed detoxes, Matthews still didn’t wanna go to rehab, no, no, no. But at last he hit bottom and crawled into residential treatment. Getting sober was excruciating, yet rewarding. Equipped with his new recovery tools, he learned to manage life without killing himself. He returned to college and earned a Masters in Counseling and a BA in English.

Click here for interviews with Mark Matthews and Caroline Kepnes:
Halloween Special: Tales of Addiction Horror

Matthews put me in touch with: Caroline Kepnes, whose story, “Monsters” is an exquisite contribution to Lullabies for Suffering. You may already know her name. She is the bestselling author of YOU, which became the binge-worthy Netflix series. Horror master Stephen King tweeted about YOU, calling it “Hypnotic and scary. A little Ira Levin, a little Patricia Highsmith, and plenty of serious snark.”

The four additional contributors to Lullabies for Suffering are: Gabino Iglesias, Kealan Patrick Burke, John FD Taff and Mercedes M. Yardley.

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Enclave Reading series on Saturday night was standing room only. Held at Alan Cumming’s Club Cumming in Manhattan’s East Village, the joint was full of hot bodies and talent. As I looked around, it gave me a feeling “down there.” Okay, so I just shamelessly lifted that phrase from Joan Jett, which fits the Enclave’s theme—FRAYED IN NEW YORK—with a focus on the 70s, 80s and 90s. It’s a time I remember oh so well.

The Enclave Opener

“I was so fucking depressed last night,” emcee Brooks said, referring to another hell week with the GOP’s spoiled toddler. Not The Orange Swamp Thing, the other entitled white baby in a suit, Brett Kavanaugh, the sobbing, blubbering, self-pitying Supreme Court nominee.

Brooks got huge laughs with a funny bit about the Unabomber, and talked about the night before the Enclave reading.

“Friday night…I decided to drown my tears and indulge myself in a twink…the magic of an iPhone app is this guy shows up, 22, cute as fuck, and, you know, huge. He had a reckless quality which I find attractive in a twink.”

Unfortunately, the young hottie ruined the action in the middle of it by calling out, Daddy!

“Being called Daddy during sex,” said Brooks, “is the gay equivalent of finding a fly in your soup at a fancy restaurant. You go from, this is gonna be good, right? — to what the fuck?”

I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my seltzer.

Frayed in New York

Jeremiah Moss, the man behind the award-winning blog and book, VANISHING NEW YORK read about what’s gone. It was apt for me. As I’d ambled past Tompkins Square Park on the way to the club, the recurring stab of sadness got me in the gut. My native Manhattan looks nothing like it did and often feels like an empty town filled with ghosts

In the 80s, whenever I was hit with an emergency need for drugs at 3am, it was that park that beckoned, luring me toward Alphabet City. It was a suicide mission back then. Being an ex-junkie, though, it’s not surprising that my wasted ideas always made perfect sense. The coils of my head kick off a Pavlov’s dog-inspired rush of endorphins that leaves me drooling at memories from years of debauchery.

Moss at the Mic

Moss at the mic lamented his arrival to what he refers to as the end of New York City: 1993. He was 22 then. Moss read, “I was Harold and New York, my Maude.” He openly admits his bias and lack of objectivity in his signature prose. Self-deprecating words inspired laughs from the audience but the biggest howl came when he quoted reviewers: “The New York Times called me a curmudgeon with a penchant for apocalyptic bombast” and “The Daily News dubbed me a fetishist for filth.”

Lara IS Sharp

DO THE HUSTLE is Lara B. Sharp’s memoir-in progress. It’s about being raised in New York City’s foster care system and her exploits as a crustie and grifter. She chose a chapter that is set in 1984 and appropriately titled Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. “A crustie,” Sharp explained, “is a homeless runaway, living on the streets of downtown Manhattan.”

Sharp as a Whipped Crustie

The author opens by telling the audience a little background info.

“I was 14 years old and I ran away from foster care. I’m just kind of living in Washington Square Park because that was a done thing then…My mom was an alcoholic and a drug addict…but [she was] awesome because she taught me everything I needed to know. She taught me how to lie, cheat, and steal.”

In addition to writing, Sharp has performed in a number of theater productions, including Penny Arcade’s original production of the Sex and Censorship Show, BITCH! DYKE! FAGHAG! WHORE! Sharp’s author reading was a performance piece because she’s charismatic and naturally theatrical.

She nailed the accents for the scene’s two characters. One voice is Sharp at age 14. The other is “Gay Cher.” He is her new kinda-sorta mentor who tells the young Sharp that he can easily make her look 18 if she steals beauty products from Duane Reade. The motivation behind wanting to look older, was practical. She wanted to find a job.

Sharp reads in Gay Cher’s midwestern accent: “I’m the most beautiful, half-Mexican faggot boy ever to escape Kansas. I looked like a fat old milk cow, but not no more. And, honey, I can fix you up. I mean, you’re a mess. But, I have talents. No offense but your white eyelashes are disgusting.”

Huge laughs from the crowd.

Then, narrating in her younger self’s voice: “He scratches his left arm making the needle sores bleed. He rubs the blood into his stone wash cut-offs…. He yanks my scrunchie and runs his dirty fingernails through my long blonde hair, pulling at the matted sections.”

I quit drinking, drugging and smoking, but I can’t get enough of Sharp’s writing. Saturday night’s performance proved that I’m addicted to her prose.

Barb Morrison

I chatted with Barb Morrison. Yes, THE Barb Morrison—recording artist, hit songwriter, platinum and gold records producer. Morrison has played with Blondie, The Runaways, Johnny Thunders and plenty more biggies. Morrison’s pronoun is they. They told me they grew up in the East Village and Chelsea after arriving here at 17. They came to the city after a childhood in Albany.

“Did you runaway?” I asked (spontaneously) because I had. At 15, I moved into the Hotel Earle on Waverly (now, Washington Square Hotel). It was only one block from the park I’d fallen in love with. I found it romantic that Joan Baez sang about Bob Dylan smiling out of the window of that crummy hotel over Washington Square.

“Yeah, I ran away many times,” Morrison said. They laughed. “I disappeared into the city. You’ll hear all about it when I read.”

Reading from a memoir-in-progress, Morrison talked about being a squatter and a musician on her way up and joining a band called The Loveless. “I tried out a few bands but none of them fit the way this gang of misfit rebels fit me…. I wanted to get in bar brawls with my guys and wake up the next morning not knowing which bruise was for what reason.”

The band had their first show at the underground Lismar Lounge. “You had to enter through one of those gates in the sidewalk that went down into a basement. Most of the bands on the Lower East Side couldn’t play worth shit and we actually had some good songs, so we instantly gained a following the night of our first gig. I remember pushing our amps up First Avenue after that show. Someone rode past in a cab and yelled “LUHHHHHVVVV LESSSSSSSSSS!” at us. We were too broke to take a cab but we felt like the most famous rockstars on the planet that night.”

Christopher Stoddard

Author Christopher Stoddard read from his new book (AT NIGHT ONLY). His words were about the universal feeling of yearning for an ex to come back and convincing yourself that just by wanting it, you can make it so. Max, his dog, is also an important character in the chapter.

“I’m wondering what he’s doing right now….He didn’t text from Montreal to let me know he landed safely—like he did when we were still in a relationship.” Then he describes pulling out his iPhone to contact his ex. The foreshadowing makes it clear that is always a bad, bad, bad idea. Stoddard’s voice is easy to listen to and, yes, his was one of the hot bodies I had referred to in my second sentence of this recap.

Pedro J. Rosado, Jr., actor, dancer and stage manager. He stage-managed Penny Arcade’s BITCH! DYKE! FAGHAG! WHORE! at Performance Space New York. He can be seen in Joan Moossy’s MISS MOOSSY’S NEIGHBORHOOD MYSTERIES on YouTube singing “It’s Important to be Friendly.”

Despite a packed room, Alissa Brianna, the solo bartender for the evening, breezed through the night and looked calm and poised amidst the madness. She banged out those drinks—which I was told were fantastique!

Also in Attendance:

Elizabeth Wurtzel, celebrated author of  PROZAC NATION and BITCH: IN PRAISE OF DIFFICULT WOMEN
(the lyrics are awesome!)
He may be a middle-aged white heterosexual man/But he’s friendly/He’s not an ageist, sexist, racist, homophobic pig/He’s friendly.
Be like him/ Be friendly.

Lauren Pine, downtown debutante and horse lover, as in horse trainer and horseback rider, not to be confused with old slang for heroin. Glad we cleared that up. Pine, Morrison and Sharp are alumnae of the Don Hill’s Thursday night Squeezebox Parties and have known each other for 30 years.

Melody Jane, danced in Penny Arcade‘s 2018 BITCH! DYKE! FAGHAG! WHORE! at Performance Space New York

Elizabeth Collins, writer and comedian (RAISED BY GAYS AND TURNED OUT OK!)

Clayre Saxon Morrison, British fashion stylist and photographer

Steve Zehentner, stage designer and sound designer who has collaborated with theater artist, writer and performer Penny Arcade for 30 years. One of their collaborations was the Lower East Side Biography Project. If you’ve never experienced it, I recommend clicking on that link.

Gavin Van Vlack, guitar, bass and vocals and member of the bands Canonized and Burn

Liza Béar, artist, photographer, writer, filmmaker

Albie Mitchell, well-known downtown photographer who documented the East Village for over 40 years, and worked for the Village Voice and for the original production of Penny Arcade’s BITCH! DYKE! FAGHAG! WHORE! at PS122 and the Village Gate.

Jenny Gorman, practicing fine art and photography in New York City and the Hamptons for over 25 years.

Cid Scantlebury artist and musician. Cid was an original Bitch from the Don Hill’s ‘ladies metal’ night of that name, a Loser’s Lounge singer, and she sings at F*Bomb NYC shows several times a year.

Sean Harris, artist, whose works in paper collage and mixed media can be viewed on Instagram @seansheengram.

AUTHOR BIOS

JEREMIAH MOSS, creator of the award-winning blog Vanishing New York, is the pen name of Griffin Hansbury. His writing on the city has appeared in the New York Times, the New York Daily News, and online for The New Yorker and The Paris Review. As Hansbury, he is the author of THE NOSTALGIST a novel, and works as a psychoanalyst in private practice in New York City

LARA B. SHARP‘s writing has appeared in various print and online publications, including Longreads and Teen Vogue. A native New Yorker, she has also written for and performed in a number of national and international theatre productions and live storytelling events in New York City, London, and Philadelphia. She was an original member of Penny Arcade’s BITCH! DYKE! FAGHAG! WHORE! in the early 90s and toured with Penny Arcade. Sharp earned her BA from Smith College, where she was an Ada Comstock fellow, and is working on a memoir about her childhood in the New York foster care system.

BARB MORRISON is a musician and producer who uses music as a platform of advocacy for the transgender community. A regular performer at The Ritz and CBGB’s, they were the saxophonist, guitarist and singer for the bands Gutterboy and Itchy Trigger Finger, which were signed to Mecury Records and toured with Lollapalooza in 1999. Barb has co-written and produced songs for artists such as Blondie, Rufus Wainwright, LP, and Franz Ferdinand. They also wrote the scores for films, including The Safety of Objects (2000), which starred Glenn Close. Their writing has appeared in various publications, such as the New York Times and The Good Men Project. Currently, they are at work on their memoir.

CHRISTOPHER STODDARD’s new novel At Night Only from Itna Press released this June, which has been praised by The Paris Review, Kirkus, Slate, Lambda Literary, and authors Edmund White and Gary Indiana. Featured in OUT Magazine’s “Tastemakers” issue in 2015 for his contributions to literature and publishing, he’s written two other novels: Limiters (Itna Press, 2014), and White, Christian (Spuyten Duyvil, 2010). He lives in Brooklyn, New York.

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To learn more about The Enclave Reading Series, visit theenclavereadingseries.tumblr.com or follow on Facebook and Instagram.

For more info on events at Club Cumming, visit clubcummingnyc.com or follow on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

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Dorri Olds is an award-winning freelance writer whose work has appeared in book anthologies, and publications including The New York Times, Marie Claire, Woman’s Day, Time Out New York, The Fix, The Forward, Yahoo, and Tablet. Visit her YouTube channel and see other works she’s done for Honeysuckle here.

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Showtimes:

Sun., April 23, 4:15pm, Cinepolis Chelsea 03
Mon., April 24, 7:45pm, Cinepolis Chelsea 01
Tues., April 25, 10pm, Regal Battery Park Theater 11
Drama, 98 min.

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Drug addicts need lots of physical care and counseling while recovering from their addiction. Many go to rehabilitation centers after they’ve spent years failing to kick on their own. Substance abuse nurses provide the loving care and support that addicts need to learn to live without drugs. If you’re interested in pursuing this career path, you must first obtain the relevant academic qualifications and experience. Read on and learn the education requirements and job description of a substance abuse nurse.

Job Description

Substance abuse nurses provide medical care to patients suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Patients can suffer from intense pain and other symptoms such as vomiting, nausea, and insomnia after withdrawing from drugs. Nurses administer pain medication and other drugs to relieve patients of the withdrawal symptoms.

Nurses also counsel recovering drug addicts to help them overcome the psychological issues that led to drug abuse. Without counseling and moral support, many patients go back to substance abuse after treatment. Hence, nurses have an opportunity to help patients overcome addiction and learn to prevent relapse in the future.

Education and Training

Drug addiction is a physical and mental condition. Substance abuse nurses require general medical training and specialized training in handling drug addiction. You must be a registered nurse to work as a substance abuse nurse, which means graduating from a nursing program. You can then take this knowledge further by registering for the University of South Dakota RN to BSN online degree.

After completing your education, you will take a national licensing exam to obtain your license. You may need to take additional tests depending on the rules and regulations in your state. The next step after obtaining your license is to work as a general nurse practitioner for at least three years or 4,000 hours to obtain a certificate. Alternatively, you can gain at least two years’ experience as a substance abuse nurse and get your certificate.

Once you gain the relevant work experience, you will sit for the certification exam and become a Certified Addictions Registered Nurse (CARN). The certified enables you to access well-paying jobs in any medical institution that treats drug addicts.

Potential Employers

Substance abuse nurses work in a variety of different medical institutions that treat addicts. The professionals can work in rehabilitation centers, hospitals, psychiatric wards, and mental health centers. You can also find a job at methadone clinics and treatment centers. The increase in the number of drug addicts every year continues to lead to an increase in the demand for specialized medical practitioners. Due to the demand you are likely to find a good job after obtaining the basic requirements. Prepare to treat drug addicts of all ages including teenagers and the elderly. You can start support groups in your community or offer individualized counseling to help more people overcome drug addiction.

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The Story

“It was like the heyday of crack,” said DEA special agent Mike Troster in the documentary. East New York in Brooklyn was a war zone, and according to Troster, “It was a hotbed for crime in New York City.”
In the late 1980s, the 75th precinct of the NYPD was the deadliest in the country. It handled the most homicides, including the most police shootings. “It was the highest murder rate in the country,” said Kenny Eurell, who worked there from 1982 to 1990. It was a time of 3,500 homicides per year in the city.
Eurell’s crimes escalated from drinking on the job to robberies, extortion, and selling cocaine after he’d retired on a cop’s pension. His book tells the story of being sucked into a world of crime and free money through his dirty cop partner, Michael Dowd.
While the doc focused mostly on Dowd, Eurell’s book reveals everything that was left out when much of the movie “ended up on the cutting room floor.”
The Fix landed an exclusive interview with the infamous criminal.

The Interview

Eurell told us he wanted to set the record straight on his years of working with coked-out Dowd. Yes, they robbed unsuspecting citizens, moved on to selling cocaine and finally went into free-fall after ripping off drug dealers. “It was greed,” said Eurell, “pure and simple. The money was so easy to make. It was impossible to turn away.”
“I became a cop at age 20 and was on the job for seven years before being partnered with Mike [Dowd]. It never occurred to me to go on a burglary call and grab the stuff that the burglar missed. It was not in my mindset until I was partnered with Mike. I don’t want to say I was brainwashed, but let’s just say, I was introduced to a different way to do police work.”
I asked him why he’d used the word “brainwashed.” He said, “I say ‘brainwashed’ because when we got in the [squad] car together, Mike talked about making money about 98% of the time. The other 2% of the time he talked about women. Once I was shown what to do—making all this easy money with no repercussion from it, greed took over.”

Regrets

Does Eurell have regrets about what he did? “I absolutely have regrets,” he said. “I wish I’d never took that first bit of money that Mike threw at me. I wish I had the courage to say to myself, ‘This is wrong. Don’t take the money.’ Even though that would’ve cut my own throat and ruined my career.”
He explained, “You can’t turn somebody in while you’re on the job because the word ‘rat’ will follow you around and destroy your career. There were guys when I was working—cops just suspected them of being a rat or a snitch—and every day, all the tires on their personal car would be cut. They go into work and their lockers would be in the shower, turned upside down, the locks broken open, all their stuff dumped out. Dead rats from the neighborhood were thrown onto the hood of their car. It makes a working situation absolutely impossible.”
“It sounds like the Mafia,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Eurell. “It’s that mentality.”
He added, “I wish I never went that corrupt cop route. There’s so many guys I was on the job with that retired as captains and hero detectives. Here I am, I’m an outcast as one of the most corrupt cops in the NYPD. It’s not something to hang my hat on.”

History of Alcohol, Cocaine and Corruption

Eurell launched into his history with alcohol, cocaine and corruption.
“When I was a cop, I was definitely an alcoholic, a functional one. I drank every day but was able to do my job. My last drink was in 1992, the year I got arrested. But after I quit cold turkey and stayed dry for 15 years, I was at my son’s engagement party and thought, ‘Oh yeah, my son’s getting engaged,’ so I had one beer, which was fine. Now, I have maybe two beers a month. If I go out I’ll have a beer, but we rarely go anywhere. We’re homebodies, my wife Dori and I. The biggest thing we do now is go out on a weekend on the motorcycle and I don’t drink when I’m on the bike.”

In his book, Eurell commented that alcohol opened up new doors for him but “It also opened up a new world of tension and problems.”
He said that the first time he drank on the job was because a boss told him to. And, despite the time he spent dealing cocaine, he never liked the drug. “I tried cocaine once,” he said. “I had a buddy who was going into the Marines. We were at a going away party and we gave him some cocaine. I did a bump with him but it really had no effect on me. And that was it. I never did it again.”
But his partner, Dowd, was a coke addict and “that was a major problem. We were working the patrol car. His personality is already high strung, you know, very hyperactive. On cocaine it was times a hundred. He was a talker.”
Back then, Eurell said, “everybody did cocaine. It was a very sociable drug. It wasn’t no heavy-addiction drug. All my customers were adults that had jobs and went to work every day and, you know, they would buy some cocaine for the weekend. We weren’t out on the street dealing to little kids at a school or nothing.”
Read more on The Fix.

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Marnell is an American writer based in New York City. She’s a beauty who built her brand on writing about beauty for Lucky, xoJane, Vice, SELF, Nylon, and Glamour. She’s been labeled a “socialite” and “enfant terrible” based on her years of struggle with addiction. Her memoir held me rapt but made me so mad at addiction. How it robs us of dignity, common sense, self-esteem. I’m rooting for the author. She wrote an honest and deeply disturbing book about what can happen when one is lost in a world of drugs and enabled at every turn.
Her Twitter bio reads, “WRITER / EDITOR / PREDATOR / DOWNTOWN DISASTER.” And, yes, it’s in solid caps. I had been eager to hear about Marnell’s debut memoir with the inspired title, How to Murder Your Life. Marnell and I met up in Greenwich Village. When she walked in, I was surprised. She didn’t look as I’d expected. Every photo I had Googled showed her, now 34, as a Barbie-beautiful blonde in heavy make-up. The woman I met was brunette, childlike and vulnerable.

An Original Voice

“I had more issues than Vogue,” Marnell wrote in her book and described herself as “a weepy, wobbly, hallucination-prone insomniac” and a “tweaky self-mutilator.” Her brains, she wrote, were “so scrambled you could’ve ordered them for brunch at Sarabeth’s.”

Rooting for Her

“It’s Like Cooking”

Her thoughts on how the book will be received were, “I’m not saying everyone gets it. I feel like with a book—I mean it’s like cooking. I don’t feel immodest saying it’s, I mean, if you taste food that you’ve cooked and you know it’s good then it’s good to you. It’s not like everyone’s taste, know what I mean? I feel like it’s good to me and I worked so hard on it.”
Selling film rights is already in the works. And you should check out the Marnell-inspired fictionalized character—fashion blogger Jade Winslow—on TV Land’s Sex and the City-ish series Younger.

Available Now

How to Murder Your Life is what every addict memoir should be: adventure-packed, shocking, darkly humorous, and gut-wrenching—the only thing missing is sobriety. The book will be published January 31. You’re likely to read it in one fast sitting.

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