Why Chastity ? Men …

Come on men, let’s get honest for a spell.

How many men out there, Jerk Off, Choke the Chicken, Slap the Monkey, or just simply, Masturbate?

Is a daily event, a multiple daily event, a really heavy daily event?

How many men out there, look at Porn ? I’m talking to YOU Straight Men, not only the Gay Men who might read this blog. Is Porn just the action taken when you choke your chicken, or is Porn a little more ingrained in your daily activities?

How many men out there, have film editing software on your computer, and do you use that editing software to edit, said Porn, you consume? And if you edit said Porn, how much Porn do you have on your hard drive, or do you have extra external hard drives connected to your desktop to house said Porn?

For you straight men, those who are married, or even for those single guys out there, is Porn part of your sex life with your wives, or significant others?

If you are like my parents were, what they did inside the house and even outside the house, was radically different from what they did behind their bedroom door. Were talking BDSM … My father had a book that I found on a bookshelf in our house at one point titled “Hurt Me Please.”

If sex is an issue, does it include Porn, or Not ? If sex is not an issue, as in, you don’t have sex, or your sex life is not what you wanted or expected, or your partner/significant other suffers from a mental condition that has just wiped sex from your proverbial plate, do you masturbate to make up for the fact that you don’t have sex

a) as often
b) not as often
c) it’s non-existent?

The problem with my own sex life is this: My husband is Bi-Polar. And this began over 14 years ago, after he suffered a break down and ended up comatose on the sofa for eleven months. The doctors gave him so much medication over the primary dosing period, all that toxic medication wiped part of his brain away, and we never saw it again.

What does one do when you remove passion, human touch, and sex from the equation? For most men, that would constitute divorce proceedings. Even for our women who read here, Porn is just as equal a “thing” as it is for the men. You don’t get a pass in this conversation.

We might have had sex, a handful of times, in the very beginning, but now, sex is the GIANT White Elephant in our living room.

My husband likes to Masturbate when I am not home. That’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve walked in on him coming home from work or a meeting a few times. He like to roll joints on my desk as well, not anymore though. We just don’t talk about it, nor do I want to talk about it. Mental illness does a serious harm to sex lives.

We don’t talk about sex, at all. I have my sex life and he has his. And as long as it does not infect any other portion of our marriage, that’s all and well for me.

I turned to masturbation because sex is non-existent. But after so many years, masturbation got boring and only repetitive, and I needed to just fucking STOP ALREADY. So I did.

The fact that we don’t have sex, just reinforces my desire to go it alone, and do my own thing. Which I have done for the whole of our marriage. Even in sobriety.

People who suffer addictions, it usually just isn’t One Thing. I have heard Bob tell me that when he went into rehab, his intake counselor told him that “If you have a problem with One Thing, you probably should not do Anything.”

Sober men, talk about sex A LOT. They talk in secret, though NOT in a meeting setting. Sex is an undercurrent that electrifies the men in my community. Newbies want to have sex, and we tell them, no relationships in your first year. What do I tell them instead?

If you have to get off, then choke the chicken.

That advice is a double edged sword, because if you have an addict in your midst, it might not be just drugs and alcohol, it might well also be Pornography.

With the dawn of fast internet and the various choices of porn online, I don’t know a single man, who I know, who does not employ porn, in their spare time. They just don’t tell me how often they choke the chicken.

But if you ask any man if they masturbate and they answer NO –


So advising on sex issues is not something I do a lot. I listen more than I talk. Only my best friend and I speak of, and practice Chastity. It’s not something you tell your friends in a meeting. Oh I have a chastity device, do you wanna try it on for size? Um, NO !!!

One of my guys and I talk about everything, i talk about everything with all of my guys, but more specifically, one of my young guys, I’ve been working with for a couple of years.

At the end of Spring, pornography became a topic of conversation, and so we did not talk about it much but after a little while, we both realized that Porn was more of a problem, and I took that thought to bed with me for a few weeks, until I had that prophetic dream at the end of March, and that dream gave me a solution.

For the life of me when Chastity rose out of nowhere, and some of my friends had chastity cages and were playing around with it, I was like
“HELL NO Nobody’s going to take my dick away from me … “

I put chastity, in the I’ve seen it in action, but not for me, file.

Fast Forward to April 1st, this Spring. All that changed.

The chastity run began for me, it came a month later for my best friend.

We nipped his problem in the bud, and my life has changed in ways I never imagined. I’ve eradicated my Porn habit. I’ve removed all my Porn from my computer, and I’ve been in chastity since April the 1st 2019.

Chastity is a simple device. Some of them can be very pricey, but if you know what you are looking for, and you do some homework for yourself, once again, you need to know where to look, I can help you there.

I’ve spent a fair chunk of money on several devices, for myself and one for my friend, which he paid for at the end of his run, because the CB-6000 runs $200.00 CAD. And the BON-4 runs $180.00. My Rage Cage ran me $115.00.

If you want focus, If you want some down time from touching your dick, if you want to stop masturbating, or masturbating so much, or you just need a break from a possible addiction to internet porn, then chastity might be for you.

Ask Me … Don’t be shy, we are all men and women here.

The first step in solving a problem is to recognize that there IS a problem.

Wednesday: Shadow, Darkness, Reality


Life is never perfect. And over the years, I’ve taken my lumps for sure.

“We are not a glum lot …” The Book Says. And also, “We did not get sober to be miserable.” However, people ARE miserable.

There are some issues, we all carry in the shadows, parts of us consigned to the darkness, that really never sees the light of day.

In reality, at some point, we all reach a breaking point. We get hit with a trigger, and life goes sideways. In the world of reality, people seem to skip over water, until they hit a personal tragedy, a death, or illness, or a major life change.

Some ride it out. Others turn to addictive substances to blunt the pain, and to barricade ourselves from the darkness and shadows.

Alcoholics and Addicts are imperfect people. We are all imperfect people, because we are fallible human beings. And shit happens.

There are a few lessons, I’ve learned over the past little while. I’ve written about them before, but they bear repeating again.

We are angry people. Because it was our resentments that drove us to drink and use. That anger lies dormant, until, like I said above, it is triggered. We are people who might have been abused, mentally, emotionally, physically, or sexually.

Shit like this, when it occurs recedes to the darkness of our hearts and minds. And we spend a lifetime drowning that pain with substance. For some, we get to the bitter end, and find ourselves in rooms together, getting sober, once and for all.

The Book and The Work tells us how to get sober. The Book also mentions that we are not doctors, and if outside help is necessary, “you should really consider it …” Not many people do that.

Over my time in the rooms, I’ve watched people. Studied them like lab rats. I know my peers, better than they know themselves. I’ve watched people hit the skids, and those occasional, bottoms, we hit in sobriety.

  • People drink and use again.
  • People go out and never return.
  • Some people end up dead.

I’ve watched, over the years, men and especially, some of our women, hit emotional bottoms in sobriety. Of all the women I watched hit that hard ground, none made it. Why they did not make it, is related to how their peers reacted to their emotional tumult.

Alcoholics are unforgiving. Sad but true.

Alcoholics do not like to think about, or even sit in the same space with someone who is in difficulty. Because we are uncomfortable with UNCOMFORTABLE …

Transparency is important in sobriety.

Being honest with who you are at all times, is the code of conduct. Many do not live this way. Believing that they need to project a calm exterior to their friends, where everything is OK, when in reality, we are broken up inside and dying from within.

It takes a long time to figure out how to be transparent. But I’ve worked hard at being true to myself and my friends. Being Calm and Zen takes work. Always putting ones best foot forward also takes work. And pounding the pavement takes its toll on us eventually.

When I hit my bitter end, after the Tragedy of the Heart, my calm, zen, exterior faded, and my broken, emotional, suffering soul, rose to the surface. This freaked people out, and they all ran for the hills screaming.

People did not treat me kindly, nor with compassion, when I was in pain. They just piled more pain on top of what I was carrying outwards, already.

Alcoholics are unforgiving …

I watched people, react to my emotional breakdown, and it was not pretty at all. Because we really don’t want to look at shadow and darkness sitting among us, while we are in meetings, because we are trying to show you that everything is good.

When it really ISN’T.

People do one of two things here. ONE, they turn inwards,and ignore what it right in front of them. As they are looking at us suffering, they know, or might be, suffering in their own silence, something that happened to them in the past.

That item that I above listed as, Never Seeing the Light of Day.

Or TWO, the trigger is so strong, that they cannot ignore that item within them, and they go down the proverbial rabbit hole, and they seek to figure out what the pain is, how it happened, and how to finally, Once and for All, turn out the darkness and shadow into the light and healing.

It took my emotional melt down for people to turn inwards on themselves. Because it was raw and terribly emotional for me. And when all my friends and peers turned away and told me To Go … They could not handle my anger and THEIR FEAR.

Alcoholics live in FEAR. Sad but True.

It has only been AFTER the FACT, that I know what happened to some of my fellow men and women. After witnessing my meltdown, some of them had their own meltdowns.

Some of my friends and fellows sought out professional help for long standing pain that had been buried in the darkness and shadow of their souls for their whole sober lives.

And it was only then, that some, found empathy for me.

Humble Pie to admit that we have sinned against each other terribly.

The other day, I got an email from a friend, after telling her that my father had died. She is on her own fact-finding mission now. Another friend, is also on a fact-finding mission himself too. Spurred on by my public emotional breakdown.

What I found offensive here is that, I got a second email a few days later, requesting my presence at a certain meeting. I went to that certain meeting on Sunday evening. Where both of these fact-finding friends, roost.

I am introduced to a literal, By The Book, Step Eleven process and am invited to participate in this venture. The caveat is this …

My friends, both, seem to think I need professional help, NOW.

When I was in the thick of suffering, nobody wanted to know me, offer me kindness or any help whatsoever.

They did not want to bother with me.

I may look stupid, but I am NOT stupid.

If I needed professional help, I would have sought it out.

I sought out all the help I needed from people I trusted. And that was good enough for me. I’m not quite sue how to react to this, because I think my friends mean well, and I think they are trying to amend their behaviors.

Just because you got help for yourself, does not automatically mean that I need the same help for myself too.

Daddy is dead. No need to go barking up that tree any longer. I have no use for him now, he’s dead, good riddance. His energy will dissipate and die along with him. And soon the cunt energy will go the same way and for the first time in all of our lifetimes, we will ALL be FREE.

Monday: Listening to the Wind


Thousands of homes (2,500) are flooded across many places tonight. There is much sorrow and destruction. Hundreds (over 1500) people are homeless, and many more will be, as flood waters are still rising all around the island of Montreal, and in Ontario as well.

The Canadian Armed Forces are involved with assisting those who need help, they are filling sandbags, and as of yesterday, as Montreal declared a state of Emergency, are assisting homeowners out of those flooded homes to a safe and dry location.

Montrealer’s are there, helping each other, giving food and supplies, and filling sand bags. Flooding to this extent has not been seen in decades.

Say a little prayer for those who need them right now.

**** **** ****

Tonight the Book takes a turn to a topic, that steps outside the “White” box, and we travel to another location. The Fourth Edition of the Big Book, has contemporary stories that cross many different lines, ethnic, racial, religious, and personal.

We heard a story written by a Native woman, from the Desert Southwest of the U.S.

Her story is familiar to many of us, here in Montreal. The plight of the Inuit and Native peoples of our city is tragic and devastating. In today’s world, one cannot go very far, in our city, without passing by someone who is Native or In-nu, on the street, in the Metro or in the mall; who is not either drunk or high.

Many years ago I wrote a post about this very problem, as I witnessed it, here in our neighborhood. Over a decade has passed, and though the neighborhood has been cleaned up, rebuilt and repaved, the tragedy of Alcoholism and Drug Addiction still exists.

The people who once littered the sidewalks and street corners, have just been moved, by location, because the city did a good job in displacing them from public view, and relegated them to the peripheries of the city.

They are still there.

I was very lucky, early in sobriety, to count among my friends, people from different backgrounds, Inuit and Native, White and Black, Christian, Jewish and Atheist.

For a long time, in my home group of Tuesday Beginners, because of its proximity to my specific neighborhood, on the Western edge of downtown, we counted among our group, many who came from other places, who were stuck in addiction, and had nowhere to go.

It is said, by some Natives, from many places in Quebec and all points of the compass, that “Once you leave the reservation or community, and you come to the city, it is highly likely, that you will never return from whence you came.”

That is mostly true.

The problem with those who come off reservation or community, they don’t necessarily integrate into the community here. They know no one, unless they have family, local.

On the main, many do not. Once one crosses the bridge from where you were, to where you are, and not being able to integrate, many are stuck in LIMBO. They come from afar, and then get here, and they don’t connect.

Then what happens? Here in Montreal, there is a middle ground. A No Man’s/Woman’s land that lies between normal civilization, and oblivion. There are many people, stuck in this place, one, by their own doing, and two, by the apathy of the people who live here.

Hungry, Homeless, Drunk and High … Originally written on July, 24th, 2007, I wrote an edit on August 11th, 2014, now I am writing towards that topic again tonight.

You cannot go anywhere in the city, and not cross paths, with those who are less fortunate. They are either homeless, drunk or high. And those identifiers cross all lines of existence. The white community here in Quebec, does not see others, like they see themselves. Native and Innu populations are strangers to our world, yet they live on the same streets we do, except they live ON the street, and we live above them, in shiny, clean apartment blocks.

I know of one Innu woman who came to Montreal to sober up. And she succeeded very well. She got tanked up on sobriety, and she would commute from the Far North, back to Montreal. She did that several times, before she finally decided to go back for good, and to live and work with those of her community.

Another friend of mine, who is Native, got sober, just after I did. He is still sober. Today, he works on a team of Elders and Community workers, who walk the city from our end of downtown to the Eastern Edge. Their job is to locate, assist and either integrate or repatriate Native and In-nu people’s back where they came from.

We get them help. We find them meetings, shelters, food and medical assistance. I am part of this little community operation. My friends do the leg work on the streets, and I do the work, in the rooms, to help those who find their way to us, via the teams on the street.

This is just a drop in the bucket, because the need is so great, and the numbers are so high, that many people fall through the cracks. But we try nonetheless.

Addiction is a scourge on many people. Not Just White People. This hits, very hard, our Native and In-nu populations, terribly. The need is dire. There are so many suffering humans, that the city, at large, is at a loss for trying.

Our storyteller tonight, has a harrowing story. In the end, she finds her way into sobriety. Many people found identity within the story tonight. The Hospital, Jail and Institution thread was popular. The variant of Higher Power, was also popular. And that is the thread that I went with.

“I found the Power Greater than Myself to be the Magic above the heads of people in the meetings. I chose to call that magic Great Spirit…”

Our woman was less than three years sober, at this stories inception. But she had this observation, like I had myself. She got it much earlier than I did. It took me years to be able to see this “sober phenomena.”

I sort of coined the phrase: “The Neon sign above your heads…”

It took me many, many years to begin to see it. Once I found it, that became one serious reason to Keep Coming Back, for more …

St. Leon’s church basement descends, YES, 12 Steps into the basement. There are actually 12 steps down, into the basement. Then you hang a right turn, into the hall.

IF you stick around until the Miracle happens … I am talking years and years, you too might see it. People who come to a meeting, carry with them, their troubles, on their sleeves. Over time, I began to notice this fact.

If you’ve been around awhile, you know what a newcomer looks like, and feels like, and for some, on really bad nights, what they smell like. That kind of information is telegraphed on that invisible sign above each of our heads.

For me, it took me two years, after coming in to see my sign change. People who spent the most time with me, in the beginning, noticed the marked change in my demeanor and looks.

For the first few years, I always wore a ball cap, and I never looked up, or met your eyes. I was always down on myself. Years of therapy and counseling changed that, to the point that one day, one of my counselors said to me … “Hey, I can see your eyes.” It was the first time I began to look up.

Over the years, the longer I was sober, I watched my friends and fellows get sober. I watched people come and go. I watched them get sober. And over many, many years, I watched those signs change for the better.

Some took longer than others.

Even today, as I have said not long ago, some of those signs are still carrying messages of pain and sorrow. And I see that in new ways today.

Some of my friends are still suffering, even though they are double digit sober.

Reading today’s story, we get a breath of fresh air. A tradition that is new to us, who are not familiar with Native or In-nu traditions. God as we understand Him, becomes broader, wider. We get another rendition of Spirit.

There are people out there, whom we know, that we may be the only rendition of the Big Book, they might ever see. Never turn your back on those who are still suffering out there. They need love, even more love, than we need ourselves.

Give it away, every chance that you get. One day you might even save a life.

Thursday – Marijuana, The Black Hole Addiction


I never know how my day is going to turn out, so I always walk into them open for anything. I go about my day, and life happens. I made two phone calls before the Thursday night event, and those calls were right what the doctor ordered.

A friend and I were talking and I was sitting outside the church killing time before I had to set up, so I made a call. And this post is an answer to a question she had.

Addiction is addiction. And a drug is a drug, just like alcohol. The drug I want to talk about is marijuana. With all the talk about legalizing POT, I guess I should tell you what happens to people who got addicted, went down the rabbit hole, and got sucked into the black hole.

Now I know, scientifically,  that if you hit the event horizon of a black hole, there is no coming out, there is NO escape, you are cosmically fucked. You are going where no man has gone before.

But the story is the same, for those of us who were, at one time, addicted to pot.

I can tell you this story because it is part of my story. After many years clean and sober, in year twelve, I learned to step up my recovery game. And I did that. Little did I know that when my guys started showing up on my doorstep, they would be down and out pot heads.

I knew Bob, the man I credit for The Work, was also an addict, and I did not see that connection until much later. I did not know where my guys, (had there been a thought of people to work with, ever came to fruition), were going to come from.

But one by one, they came and the opportunities presented themselves.

[EDIT] I also should mention that not only men suffer the ravages of marijuana addiction, women suffer more than the men, we have seen this in our own community. Addiction knows no barriers, age, sex, orientation, etc … Women suffer too …

The rest is history.

Funny, we had our meeting this evening and a man from Toronto showed up on our doorstep tonight, looking for a meeting. It was a good meeting, having experience, strength and hope from someone from someplace else.

After the meeting he asked me out for coffee, and I went with him. And we sat on Phillips Square for two hours and talked about life.

I made a new friend.

Unlike Alcohol, Cocaine, Heroine, CRACK, or any other drug, on the market, marijuana is known as an herb, something you can’t get addicted to, and won’t get you into trouble or kill you like the others will, but smoke enough of it and you will descend into that black hole of addiction, apathy, lethargic, self centered, using that will kill any semblance of humanity you have and totally STUNT any relationship you might be in.

Alcohol. One drink, leads to Two, which lead to MORE.

Hard drugs are another beast entirely. All it takes is one hit, one trip and one needle, and you are hooked, MORE is what you then crave, and in the end, death is highly likely.

Marijuana, usually begins with an innocuous joint. The buzz comes, and then you go back to your life. Ask any addict, and they will tell you what happened after that first toke. Marijuana might be innocuous, but once you are hooked, it is a forgone conclusion that you will want MORE, need MORE and go to any length to get MORE.

You might get offered your first joint, but the logical progression is that if you play the tape to the end, one day you will be so hooked that you will BEG, BORROW, LIE and STEAL to get a hit, and roll over everyone who gets in your way.

Your behavior will change. Your habits will change, depending on how hooked you get to pot. It infiltrates your life, and renders you useless to yourself and definitely with others.

Work goes by the wayside. School is fucked beyond repair. Your life goes down the tubes.

All that matters is scoring it, dealing it and finding ways to stay HIGH.

Do you want this kind of life? Where all you want to do from sun up to sun down is bake yourself in a haze of pot?

I lived that life. I dropped myself in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere, clean and sober, and when I opened that truck door, I was handed a joint and a beer.

There was no way out. And I had no plan of escape. It wasn’t a question of not using. The question became, out of my control, which do I take first.


Years of sobriety went out the window and I spent eighteen months stuck in a hole of addiction to alcohol, cocaine and marijuana.

I had, wisely, made contact with the outside world, and in the end, that one human being who knew where I was, called the cops, and got me out of there, when I could have seriously ended up dead or someplace that nobody would have known where I went or how I got there.

And let me tell you, it was very close.

After that horror show, I vowed never to smoke another joint, or have another hit of cocaine, or use another drug, as long as I lived. However, alcohol, in my mind, at that time, was necessary. I was still stuck in a cycle of binge drinking, until I hit the end.

Knowing where I had come from, and the fact that I lived for MORE of whatever was in front of me, that was the battle I was facing.

You don’t know the evil of MORE when you are in it, because you are deluded by the drug or alcohol. But when you sober up and get clean, you see just what a nightmare, MORE is.

Some say that you can’t get addicted to POT that it is innocuous. And many people tout the benefits of pot medicinally, and I don’t disagree with those folks, because when I was diagnosed with AIDS in the 1990’s, friends gave me copious amounts of pot to smoke to avoid wasting and DYING, because I could not eat.

The stories of what POT did for sick men are many. When you are going to die and the odds are against you, and drugs were not available, because they did not exist back then, save for experimental drugs that, in the end, failed, smoking pot was the least of your problems.

Men ravaged with AIDS, did whatever they could to prolong their lives.

Pot was one answer. And it worked for many, while it lasted. In the end, hundreds of thousands of men and boys died from AIDS, for them there was no way out.

And I am here to tell you their stories, because I witnessed this with my own eyes. I watched my friends go to their deaths riddled with sickness. And many of them hung out at the bar we worked at drinking and using and killing themselves before disease took them outright. All in a haze of drugs and alcohol.

God, (read: Todd) knew better, and saved me from that hell hole.

And I live to tell the story, every day that I breathe.

What people don’t see, is that ONE, ANY one, leads to MORE, which leads to outright addiction. All of us were stuck in this black hole, until we found our ways out.

M.A. serves a definite purpose for our community here in Montreal.

And tonight, I met a man from Toronto who introduced me to his life, and his work as a documentary film maker working here in Quebec and visited us. And our little meeting that could, made the difference in a visitors life.

You never know how your day is going to turn out, or when God is going to give the opportunity to share experience, strength and hope with a stranger and change his life.

We are a blessed little group of intrepid recovering potheads.

You don’t have to be saddled by MORE, there is a way out.

I love you BOO.

Here is your post.