I don’t want to do a sit-up, but I want abs like that guy on the 3-pack of underwear.

When galactic travelers discover the ruins of humanity on earth, they will determine the cause was not crime, cancer or crack. The Decline of Civilization will be an attitude: “Maxi-mum Results for Minimum Effort.”

Remote Control, Microwave Oven, Vibrator. All geared toward allowing us more time to do less. Look at liposuction. Diet? Exercise? Sacrifice? No! To lose cellulite, you just go visit Dr. Suckbutt. And it’s not just gadgets anymore. The “point and click” mentality has surfaced in relationships. Romances that start fast stop even faster. Dealings with people in general are like changing a TV channel. I stopped using dope in 1988. I’m not sure in what year I’ll be able to stop using people. I’m still one of the most selfish men I know. “Excuse me while I help myself to your help.”

Maximum results for minimum effort? Right in front of you: E-mail, internet, games. You never have to speak directly to humans ever again . . . You can have relationships with people you’ll never see or touch. It’s amazing that an invention can pull the world together and keep it apart at the same time. I’d like to say more, but my pager is beeping.

Keep pulling back,

Mark L.

*****

“Someone who tells you “Never say never”, said it twice.”

*****

“God has huge plans for your future, but today they are none of your business.”

*****

“Addicts don’t change their behavior, they manipulate their environment.”

I just finished a week of theater in Scottsdale, Arizona. Thank you to the Valley of the Sun. Besides doing the show that I wrote about being addicted to a myriad of unhealthy behaviors, I once again was allowed to participate in a community that is unfamiliar to me…Arizona.

Wow! If you’ve never been here, you are missing some fantastic energy, phenomenal weather and an undeniable spirituality! There is something truly magic about this part of the world. Mountains rise up from the desert floor, but not enough of them to overshadow the vast, flat, sandy beauty that IS the Southwest. You can almost imagine what early settlers must have seen as they happened upon this valley of cactus, colors, and creation itself. The world did not begin here, but it could have.

I am grateful once again to be energized by the serenity of the land, the warmth of the people, and the majesty of the moment…thank you Scottsdale!

Flying home today,

Mark L.

Whenever I am asked to speak at a meeting, I always chair in bare feet. It makes me feel more vulnerable, more grounded, a little more humble. I find this is a good basis for me to be real. Being the lead at a speaker meeting is exactly the opposite of what some people think. If you have never experienced this honor, listen up.

Being singled out to share one’s “story” sounds like a stroke to the ego, until one gets to actually do it. For me, I stand there, (feet naked) and it hits me. I’m in a room full of miracles. I am one of millions on this planet who, by the grace of God, have been given another chance to be a human being. I am a tiny piece of a huge fabric of recovery. This process is decades older than I am and will long outlive me. I am suddenly small, fragile, insignificant in the big picture, and yet deserving of this opportunity somehow.

I believe that when I am asked to participate in someone else’s recovery, it means I am ready. Gratitude takes over and I am again re-amazed at the humility this opportunity produces in me. I think of all the men and women with more “time” than I have, those who have suffered more, done more, helped more . . . I question the process . . . why me? Then I hear one of the voices in my head say . . . “Because someone asked. It’s your turn. This is how it works.” At this point, I realize it’s not the speaker that’s special, it’s the moment.

Hooked

March 27, 2005

As a comedian, I have experienced many types of laughter. The way a person laughs can be as individual as a fingerprint. Haven’t you ever been sitting in a dark theater or showroom, heard that laugh and thought . . . “I know that person! Nobody else laughs like that!”

I love all laughter, except for that dishonest laugh/smile combination someone makes where you know that behind it is masked anger. Easier to laugh than to punch someone who just upset you. I’ve used this laugh myself. Still don’t like it.

I enjoy hearing a belly laugh. You have to hold your stomach or risk losing an organ or two. I love the mule chortle, where the person only makes noise as they inhale. Then, there’s the ouzi laugh that’s rythmic and quick! There’s the Santa Claus laugh where a big person (politically correct) yells Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho! I am mesmerized by the silent laugh where I see the top of someone’s head laid on the table as they pound their fist on it. Eventually, they have to come up for air. Great response. I love the high shrill wail of someone who stays up for air, head back, eyes closed.

Best laughs ever– 1.) Children . . . all of them. Innocent, unique, happy. 2.) Had a woman in Pennslyvania laugh so hard she threw up! (sober). Great night for a comic.

Second Sunrise

Chances. How many have you had? How many have you taken? How many will you get? I think of all the times in my life when I could have been busted but wasn’t. Oh sure, I’ve been to jail. I’ve been to Court . . . Lotsa times! But the highest price I’ve had to pay for anything is the cost of not being caught. It was like putting a cement block on the back of my neck. Unbearable to have to carry the thought of it . . . any “it”.

Along with the conscience carrying too much, there’s the slippery notion that “Hey, I could do that again! Until you prove it to me otherwise, it’s still an option. Very scarey! But that’s how I think.

The healing comes with knowing that God only gives you what you can handle. That there was a reason you just made it into sanctuary before the street exploded behind you!! The Reason? Another chance. This one counts. It’s a gift to be passed on to someone who will appreciate the information. Some of us never get a second chance. Big question about chances is this: How many do you need? I think I’ll take this one and run!!

No matter what occupation you have chosen, there is a hurdle preventing you from working well or achieving excellence in that particular field. Competition . . . necessary to distinguish the best from the rest.

I’ve always felt that the more competition, the better I will look if . . . my intentions are honorable and my footwork is solid. Personal wants and needs become a pale priority when it comes to service of society. Sounds hokey I know, but everyone does something, one thing, better than anyone else on earth. A calling. Joe DiMaggio, baseball. Katherine Hepburn, acting. The Pope, poker. Just kidding. Point is, DiMaggio was no actor, the pope couldn’t hit a curve ball and Hepburn wasn’t supposed to lead a church. All found their true calling and I’ll bet each didn’t do it to become rich, famous, or popular. They understood “this” is what I was meant to do. Do it well!

Every time someone tells me I won’t “make it”, I remember I already have. I love what I do, don’t care who notices, and refuse to get caught up in credits, credentials, and cash. If you don’t enjoy what you do, why do you do it?

Footworking,

Mark.

I am 41 years old. You could say I am a late bloomer. Tonsils removed at 21. Sober at 29. First cavity . . . 35! Swear to God! Last month, for the very first time ever, I went to a Kiss concert. Loud!! Fun!! Lots of face paint and skin . . .

I didn’t mind paying $80, because I had saved so much money over the years NOT seeing them, but enjoying their music. I guess I owed it to them. And, it was the original band. The real guys!! Back to High School for Mark . . .

I hate it when bands that broke up want to tour again, but have almost none of the original members. I’m not paying $27.50 to see Two Dog Night, or driving to Tahoe to see the Village Person.

I heard recently that Lynyrd Skynyrd is touring. Come on! I read the newspaper. Who’s opening that show? Ricky Nelson? Stevie Ray Vaughn? Who’s the promoter? Bill Graham?

Once you’re gone, you are gone. That’s the power of human memory. It allows one to revel in what was . . . reality. Different reality, different memory. Suggestion— Don’t try to sell me REOver Again Speedwagon

1) I never leave a meeting early.

2) I never argue with my sponsor.

3) I always hug the speaker/lead at a meeting.

4) I never say ‘no’ to 12-step commitments unless I have a previous calendar obligation.

5) I never walk into a bar by myself for any reason; not just to use the phone, ask directions, or use the restroom.

6) I don’t drink or use just for today . . . no matter what

Laughter is just as contagious as fear or anger. I’ve watched people heal the last two months or so. Laughter really IS good medicine, an antidote for pain, rage, grief. I would define laughter as lack of fear. There is no way a person can truly giggle or smile or scream with laughter if they are afraid. I’m not talking about that false smile or hesitant laugh of doubt or embarrassment. I mean really letting go of fear and enjoying a moment of Ha-Ha . . . from the soul.

Since September 11th, I have seen growth and balance on a daily basis. Pain always leads to these things, unless you can’t let go of the thing that hurts. I’ve watched city after city lighten up and laugh at the world in an honest, caring and unflinchingly courageous way. Since “it” happened, I’ve been to Washington, Oregon, Florida, California, Arizona, Texas, Illinois, Ohio, Utah, New Mexico. These states are very concerned for the future of this planet, but they have been intelligent and human enough to see that a better world begins with a better town, a better home, a better me. Balance is better. Laughter is lighter. Funny feels good.

I go to work every night lately with an extra hurdle to get over. The world is a scarier place these days. I want to thank the audiences I have had for jumping so high to clear that obstacle. I hope it continues. It has to. I’ll keep writing, you keep coming back, OK? Unless you’re not up to it . . .

Test Joke: Anthrax is scary and deadly . . . But did you ever think you’d see the day when airport police would say, “It’s OK, let him go . . . it’s just a bag of heroin, thank God! Have a nice flight!”

I read murder mysteries to relax myself. Fact or fiction, these stories allow the mind to wander away from normalcy, stress, debt, duty, or humanity for short spells. There is a deep dark side to the human soul that is as old as Adam and as forever as fire. Wrapping my brain around a tale of homicide is a guiltless pleasure because it frightens me to think that men and women are capable of anything and everything . . . not all of us, but some. Not to be included in this group is the pleasure. Closing the book, knowing the story is not mine, I relax, guiltless, knowing that each one of our lives is connected to another one— several, thousands, or a few. This is the moment where I remember that today is priceless, magic, and real. Reality is temporary and fragile. Oh that stories of death would inspire life, but isn’t that always the case?.

There are people in this world who are born teachers. They just don’t know it. These unfortunate individuals spread information along the path of their own ignorance. The lesson is always the same: Don’t Be Like Me.

I’ve learned from these people over and over about spirituality, humility, honesty, loyalty, integrity . . . by watching them lack all of the above. What they don’t know, helps me. What they think they know, costs them dearly. I meet these folks in business, after shows, having coffee with groups of certain groups. They always have the same odor . . . a faint smell of failure. It is unmistakable to the trained nose.

Maybe it was all the cocaine I snorted, but I can detect that odor forty seconds after they start talking. I’m not gifted . . . I’ve been one of those people. Each time I meet a teacher who schools by their own omissions, I’m looking in the mirror . . . 1985, 1980 . . . pick any year in the seventies or eighties. Even a few weeks or months since then . . .