Northern California, a childhood spent in teepees and school buses, and a vision of becoming an old man on a porch with a beer and a bong. Adam A. lived a life where the party was a separate entity from morality. He describes himself as a "byproduct of the 60s" who viewed his alcoholism as a badge of honor, drifting through a haze of Gallo wine, acid, and a car with no muffler and four pounds of pot in the trunk. Even a two-year prison stint couldn't stop the cycle; he was out the gates and back to a six-pack within twenty minutes.
For years, Adam played the part of the spiritual Rasta in AA meetings while remaining "loaded every single day," a hollowed-out eggshell hiding behind the right slogans. He identifies the real wreckage not as the lost jobs or crashed cars, but as the "unmanageability that happens inside." Through a Higher Power and a "textbook" approach to the Big Book, he moved from being a "rabid step-Nazi" to finding a gritty, shoulder-to-shoulder sanity.
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