Inadvertent Substance Misuser

Pressures to engage in a blog have reached critical mass, so I present this effort as an attempt to keep the peace.  I know not what my blog is or what it will become.  To truly enter the morass of self-loathing and paranoia that is my mind would probably drive whomsoever reads this to drink and/or priapism.  It may just devolve into me posting pictures of My Little Pony with captions like SpunkieNutz luvs U!!!  I assume SpunkieNutz is the name of a My Little Pony, I was too lazy to look one up.  I would prefer to continually type My Little Pony as if it isn't a cumbersome label to push across your tongue.

In my usual unfortunate nature, I am find myself in the middle of four or five books at the same time without a plan for completing any of them on a reasonable timeline.  The most compelling title is also the least urgent, with its lackadaisical short story structure.  Honestly, George Saunders?  You couldn't be bothered to fill an entire book with a single story?  The Tenth of December is the title in question. If you haven't read any of Saunders' work, I can't recommend him highly enough. His work teeters on the precipice between Sartre and Terry Gilliam, if such a precipice exists. If not, I apologize for an inept comparison. Another short story collection, "Civilwarland in Bad Decline," is a favorite of mine. However, the following passage hails from the story "Pastoralia" in the collection of the same name. It concerns a mother and her 24 year old son discussing his shortcomings and sums up my love for the author:

"I was trying," he says. "But still they kicked me out."
"Kicked you out of what?" she says. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, go back. They kicked you out of what? Of rehab?
"It's nothing bad, Ma!" he shouts. "You don't have to make me feel ashamed about it. I feel bad enough, being called a thief by Mr. Doe in front of the whole group."
"Jesus, Bradley," she says. "How are you supposed to get better if you get kicked out of rehab? What did you steal this time? Did you steal a stereo again? Who's Mr. Doe?"
"I didn't steal nothing, Ma," he says. "Doe's my counselor. I borrowed something. A TV. The TV from the lounge. I just felt like I could get better a lot faster if I had a TV in my room. So I took control of my recovery. Is that so bad? I thought that's what I was there for, you know? I'm not saying I did everything perfect. Like I probably shouldn't of sold it."
"You sold it?" she says.
"There was nothing good ever on!" he says. "If they showed good programs I just know I would've gotten better. But no. It was so boring. So I decided to throw everybody a party, because they were all supporting me so well, by letting me keep the TV in my room? And so, you know, I sold the TV, for the party, and was taking the bucks over to the Party Place, to get some things for the party, some hats and tooters and stuff like that, but then I've got this problem, with substances, and so I sort of all of a sudden wanted some substances. And then I ran into this guy with some substances. That guy totally fucked me! By being there with those substances right when I had some money? He didn't care one bit about my recovery."
"You sold the rehab TV to buy drugs," she says.
"To buy substances, Ma, why can't you get it right?" he says. "The way we name things is important, Ma, Doe taught me that in counseling. Look, maybe you wouldn't have sold the TV, but you're not an inadvertent substance misuser, and guess what, I am, that's why I was in there. Do you hear me? I know you wish you had a perfect son, but you don't, you have an inadvertent substance misuser who sometimes makes bad judgments, like borrowing and selling a TV to buy substances."
"Or rings and jewels," says Janet. "My rings and jewels."
"Fuck, Ma, that was a long time ago!" he says. "Why do you have to keep bringing that old shit up? Doe was so right. For you to win, I have to lose. Like when I was a kid and in front of the whole neighborhood you called me an animal torturer? That really hurt. That caused a lot of my problems. We were working on that in group right before I left."
"You were torturing a cat," she says. "With a freaking prod."
"A prod I built myself in metal shop," he says. "But of course you never mention that."