I used to blame it on those freaky albino sisters in the alley. I tried to blame my over-caring parents and living in a town much smaller than my dreams.I even blamed the hungry bear who liked our campsite a bit too much. Either way, I blamed anybody or anything that wasn’t me. My tale begins with the first lukewarm beer. I was thirteen. It was like adding gasoline to an inferno, and my life turned on a dime. Suddenly focused on the ease and comfort alcohol brought, I launched a rocket that was the comedy and tragedy of my early drinking years. Powerless is the first book, a story of my drunken fuckups and stupid adventures in the 1970s, my high school years. In those days, all I wanted was to chug as many beers as possible and be the life of every party. And there were lots of parties. I turned group camps and field trips into laugh-out-loud disasters that prompted a visit to the shrink. Dr. Rose to my “She’s bi-polar as hell.” And so it began.The Powerless series is a memoir told as a story; a story so twisted that it took seven books to reveal it all. So buckle in for one helluva ride, my friend. Take a tour through five fucked-up decades of my life – a zany story about getting drunk, getting sober, and the quest for grace.
