Lieutenant Dominic voted in the election and no one has seen him since. All we know is that supposedly he’s been discharged but he didn’t leave any contact information and no one had a chance to see him off. I feel guilty for not making more of an effort to wish him well and get an email address for him after he had served as such a great leader, but it wasn’t at all unusual for people to just disappear, glad to be done with this place. I envy his freedom and feel sure he is going to have a great life. I hope things work out with his wife and kids. Maybe she will appreciate how much he’s changed. Maybe he will actually realize his dream of becoming a priest.
At 3:23 AM—according to my alarm clock—I get up to pee, relishing the freedom of solitude now that Junkiemind Jerry has moved out. I stand in the bathroom’s inadequate yellow half-light feeling stronger than I ever have since I got here. I look at myself in the mirror and decide to shave as soon as I can buy some razors from those thieves in the pharmacy. I shuffle over to the toilet, amazed at how I can now take pleasure in a simple thing like peeing. Relax...ahh… OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK OH GOD
At our nightly community meeting, Lt. Dominic congratulates everyone on the success of the barbecue and thanks Jonah for cooking, even though he was sick. He says he is going to apply for a group day pass and maybe take some of the guys to a movie off-campus as a treat. I’m grateful we have a leader like Dominic. I just wish there was a war on so I could follow him into it.
At Group time, my check-in feeling is “concerned.” I’m worried that my liver is failing like the Yellow Man’s, that I am about to go over the waterfall of Suboxone withdrawal, that I will shit myself at any moment, and most of all worried about what will happen when my wife comes for family day this afternoon.
I’m flying down, down through layer after layer of sleep on the wings of Jerry’s pill when the dream begins.
I wake up to one of Junkiemind Jerry’s alarm clocks going off. Daylight has begun creeping in from the window, making diffuse, ominous shadows from everything in the room. We have an early house meeting on the Sunday schedule and then we’re supposed to go down to the Day Hospital auditorium for something called “spirituality.”
Isis-Aphrodite Metropolitan Museum of Art