I can’t blame the guy, but yeah, you can see what’s coming…
I suggested we go to meetings in Compton or Watts or even Korea Town—the kinds of meetings where I was sure to be more comfortable. I was told—as if it was something everyone knew—that in LA white people stick with white people. (…)
I sought out other sober companions in LA. These were career companions who took themselves and their work very seriously. I perked up when one talked about the acting jobs he had gotten through his newfound connections. All of these recovery predators seemed to feel strongly that they were doing God’s work. I wasn’t so sure. When I mentioned my misgivings they told me that treatment centers charged money, and that the rich and famous needed “extra help”. One told me not to worry because these guys could afford it.
They were slick and deeply superficial, wrapped up in the lives of others, accepting larger sums then I was getting and speeding towards some codependent train wreck I wanted no part of. I looked at these gym-healthy men and women with perfect tans, tattoos of the week, bleached teeth and moral certainty. Was I glimpsing a possible future version of myself? A place where purpose and commerce collide in abject fulfillment for the misfit…I’d rather drink.