Brooklyn, 1970s. A Saturday night feast on a street corner where a shaking, insecure kid watches his friends pass around a quart of Colt 45. For Peter M., that first drink was a panacea; it silenced the judge in his head and stopped the vibrating in his skin.
But the relief was a lie. He describes the "boomerang" of alcoholism that eventually cut him to ribbons, transforming him into a "bedevilment" to his family. He recounts the grit of the Brooklyn waterfront, forging his father's checks and stealing from the people who loved him, until he was a "Bowery bum" in his own home.
Peter warns against "worshipping the information" or the ego of the "new sneakers and manicures" phase of sobriety. He argues that the Big Book is merely a pointer to a Higher Power. He speaks of the wreckage of a "dead spirit" and the visceral shift that happens when an awakened spirit returns to a dingy, depressed house and cleans it up.
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