What, No Gravy??!

This may sound freakish, but if I could I'd be dancing right now. 8 weeks and 2 days it took, but today for the first time in weeks I didn't spend the entire morning in and out of the lavatory. Dunno what did it. Maybe it was just time. But I recklessly ate a cup of soup last night and prepared for hell to pay, and nothing.... So my official personal best for the Bart Brinkerhoff Gravy Ass Olympics is 58 days. I really hope that's over now. And as I watch friends and family twist and turn in shitstorms, I'm personally happier than I've been in maybe 20 years. Now I understand my Dad's take on life- to enjoy, privately if necessary, every little victory or joy to its fullest. There are times when you stand somewhat alone in happiness. It's cruel to be euphoric when someone next to you is suffering. Enjoy it anyway, and keep it to yourself. It's a smile on your face nobody will understand and I think it makes you kinder somehow. Of course, now I've just announced to the world that I'm happy in the midst of suffering. Well, I ain't Buddha. I've always enjoyed irony, too. It's never lost on me. It's glaringly sunny today. The sky is that light blue of broadcloth shirts. A fine Spring day in New England. I can't help feeling that good things are coming. Still waiting for the eastern glow...