Donuts and Coffee

Addiction support groups are home to Lincoln.

Donuts and Coffee

By: Ricky Thompson

 

I go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but I am not an alcoholic. I go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, but I am not a drug addict (in fact I've never even taken a puff of the magic dragon). I go to Gamblers Anonymous meetings, but I do not gamble. I go to Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings, but I rarely get laid (you would think going into a meeting with a cluster of sex addicts would enhance my chances, but stealth is key). I go to Food Addicts Anonymous meetings, but I am not overweight. I go to Codependents Anonymous meetings, but I am not codependent. Tuesday, for the first time, I attended a Bibliophiles Anonymous meeting.

     The Autumn Falls High School north gymnasium is barren and worn; the only use it gets is from the Freshman Girls Basketball team and the Bibliophiles Anonymous group. Approaching the gym, I realized the legitimacy and the tactical poignancy in having a Bibliophiles Anonymous meeting in a high school gym. The high school gym is home to the anti-Bibliophiles " the Jocks, if there was any place where books weren’t welcome, it would be a high school gymnasium. Reading literature in a gymnasium is grounds for a school yard beat down. I could definitely see why a high school gymnasium would be the serene place to rid literature fiends of their compulsion.

     The gym is open and dusty, neither of the hoops at the ends of the courts contains a net and the backboard of the south hoop is cracked in half. My allergy to dust mites caused me to sneeze violently, I looked up to see two men sitting in the circle composed of plastic folding chairs. Neither bothers to say, “bless you.” The two men almost look identical; both have shaggy light brown hair, thin-rimmed spectacles, and a pasty complexion. I go over to check the spread, one of the perks of support group meetings, well except at the Food Addicts Anonymous meetings. The Food Addicts Anonymous meetings usually have some type of vegetable spread with dip. The spread in the gym contains donuts and coffee. Donuts and coffee were fairly fundamental at most of these shindigs, bar the Food Addicts Anonymous and the Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings.  

     I quickly grubbed down a maple old fashion, and then followed it up with an original glazed donut. My Food Addicts Anonymous sponsor Jerry would have had a fit if he found out about this failure of discretion. Jerry was by far the most antagonistic sponsor that I had been subjected to in my experience with addiction sponsors. He had an addiction to fast food " breakfast, lunch, dinner, desert, midnight snack he would feast on the delights of the plethora of grease plates offered by the various American fast food chains. After achieving a weight of a quarter ton and three heart-attacks by the time he was thirty, Jerry decided it was time for a change. Jerry dropped over three-hundred pounds and now actively protests American fast food chains, and in addition has a particular disdain for donuts. F**k you Jerry!

     By the time everybody got settled into their seats there was seven Bibliophiles (including myself). The leader of the Bibliophiles Anonymous group was named Brian. Brian, 37 years old, 10^th grade English teacher, Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Galaxy. He began by discussing the first time he read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: it was his fifteenth birthday and he just returned home from school after another day of getting his a*s beat, and discovered a thick vibrant hard-cover resting on the kitchen counter. Brian picked up the hard cover and spent the weekend reading all five of Douglas Adams’ novels, and then he read them again, and again, and again. From that fateful fifteenth birthday, up until his thirty-fifth birthday Brian would read all five novels of Douglas Adams’ series at least bi-monthly and even sometimes up to five times a month. Brian’s addiction to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy left him with two friends " his mother, and Douglas Adams, and only one of those was mutual. On his thirty-fifth birthday his mother Loretta pleaded for him to give up his addiction, and per his mother’s request he founded the first ever Bibliophiles Anonymous.

     “I see we have a new member,” Brian said establishing eye contact with me.

     Everybody looked my direction and I nodded.

     “If you would like to share with the group your name, age, favorite book, and anything about yourself that would be great,” Brian said with a goofy grin exposing his yellow buck-teeth.

     “Hi everybody,” I said scanning the faces of the group. “My name is Lincoln, I’m 27, I’m an actor "“

     “An actor! Have you been in anything sci-fi?” exclaimed a lanky guy, with a long beak, sporting a shirt that read Trekkie for Life.

     Jeremy, 26 years old, computer programmer, Star Trek Fan Fiction.

     “Jeremy, please don’t interrupt Lincoln,” Brian said condescendingly. Jeremy nodded. “Okay, Lincoln, please continue.”

     “So "“ I started.

     “Have you been on any soaps?” asked a rotund leather-faced woman. “I sure do love my soaps! So have you been on any? If so which one? Please do share.”

     Margie, 53, secretary, Female Friendly Erotica.

     “Margie, please,” Brian scanned the room with disappoint. “You guys know better than this, Lincoln is here to get better like all of you, and he needs to talk about his addiction to understand it and the power it has. Come on you guys, show Lincoln some courtesy. Go ahead Lincoln.”

     Margie and Jeremy hung their heads.

     “It’s no worries, but no I haven’t been on any soap operas, nor have I done anything sci-fi. My experience lies mostly within traditional theatre and improv.” Theatre has armed me with the skills to adapt swiftly to each addiction support group. “Enough about me though, I want to learn about you guys. Margie? Jeremy? I want to hear about you guys,” I said making eye contact with both of them.

     That was my technique, to shift the focus away from myself and onto my fellow addicts. Some people boost their self-esteem by watching reality television, others by scanning the Facebook Wall’s of high school class mates. As for me, hearing about the powerlessness and pathetic nature of various addictions does it for me.

     Hearing about Isaac, heterosexually married Isaac performing fellatio on camera for an eightball of Bolivian Marching Powder; listening to Martha go-on-and-on about how she binge-ate five tubs of cookies and cream ice cream after her husband left her for slightly less obese woman; Jimmy talking about how he drank a fifth of whiskey and streaked the field during his son’s high school graduation ceremony; Tony reminiscing about how he lost a bet, which included him giving up his daughter’s chastity to the local Yakuza kingpin (this was obviously highly illegal in California, so instead the Yakuza beat Tony senselessly to the point that he now no longer has complete control of his bowel movements); and then there is Stacy, the serial monogamist whose exploits lead her to being in romantic relationships with a homeless man, a Michael Jackson impersonator (White Michael whom was a method actor), a pedophile, and her great uncle Cornelius. The addiction support groups made me feel not only like a successful actor, but a successful human. The people in the groups were so feeble and being able to fool them into thinking I was one of them only added to my feeling of grandiose superiority.   

      “Please, Lincoln, we would all like to hear more about you, and your literature vice,” said Brian.

      I scanned the circle of my six fellow bibliophiles and made eye contact with the Gothic cutie, “I think you should share with the group, I’d like to hear your story, you’re sitting there all mysterious and quiet,” I said with a flirtatious smile.

      She didn't smile. “How about you wipe that cheesy f*****g grin off your face and tell us what your addiction is, you arrogant a*****e.”

      Ashley, 25, PhD Student of Comparative Literature, Kurt Vonnegut.

      “Ashley, please,” Brian pleaded, “Be hospitable to our new member. We’re all here, because we have an addiction to literature, we’re all struggling, so let us be courteous of each other’s issues. Go ahead Lincoln, please go on and tell us your story.”

       To be honest I’m not much of a reader, and it’s a lot easier to lie about being a Food Addict or a Drug Addict than a Bibliophile. They’re a dime a dozen, on the other hand Bibliophiles are a dying breed with technology swiftly taking over the entertainment industry in totality.

       “How can I name just one book,” I said confidently. “How can I name just one author? Or even one series? It would be disrespectful to the other novelists and novels that I love.”

       “Bullshit,” exclaimed Ashley.

       “Excuse me?”

       “Bullshit, you’re lying, you’re not addicted to literature, why the hell are you here?”

       “Now, now, Ashley, I’m sure Lincoln isn’t lying, are you Lincoln? Just tell us one of your favorite novels, no judgment or shame, we’re all here for the same reason,” explained Brian.

       I had to think of a novel on the fly, I should’ve prepared for these types of questions ahead of time. Out of apprehension I spat out, “The Great Gatsby.”

      “Ahhhhhh,” the whole group let out simultaneously.

      “What did I say?”

      “The Great Gatsby man, really?” Ashley said. “All of us have read The Great Gatsby. Hell, everybody has read The Great Gatsby.”

      “Yeah, doesn’t mean it can’t be my favorite.”

      Brian examined me. “So Lincoln, who’s your favorite character in Ernest Hemingway’s classic on the Roaring Twenties?”

      I looked into Brian’s blue eyes trying to get a read on him. “Gatsby, of course.”

      “Do you mind saying his whole name?”

      “Of course not.”

     They all focused their attention in my direction waiting for me to continue my con, but I drew a blank. However, at that moment I did remember the names Nick Caraway and Daisy Buchanan. Too late.

     “Rrrr…Jjjj…Www…illiam Gatsby.”

     “Ahhhhhh,” they all dropped their heads.

     “You also didn’t catch that I referred to The Great Gatsby as being written by Ernest Hemingway when it was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

     “So what are you doing here you jack-a*s, does this gets you off? People that are suffering with an addiction?” Ashley asked.

     “I’m sure Lincoln has his reason,” Brian said. “And I’m sure that is not-“

     “She’s right,” I exclaimed.

     “Ahhhhhh.”

     Everybody in the group looked at me and shook their heads in unison.

     “What do you mean,” asked Brian.

     “I come to these addiction support groups for personal enjoyment.”

     “That sounds like there are others,” one of the goofy twins interjected.

     I nodded.

     “Please share,” said Ashley now smiling at me.

     “What?”

     “Yes, Lincoln, please share, explain what you do,” Brian said.

     “Well, I, I go to… I go to addiction support groups. AA, NA, CA, FAA, GA. And I make up stories about addictions I share with them. I found this one online and decided to check it out.”

      All eyes were intently on me.

      “What is CA, FA, and GA?” asked Margie.

      “Codependents Anonymous, Food Addicts Anonymous, Gamblers Anonymous.”

      “Codependents Anonymous?” asked Ashley.

      “Yeah, it’s for people with codependency issue. You know, they can’t be left alone, or go anywhere alone. It’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

       “You say it’s pathetic, but yet you go?” asked Brian.

       “Yeah, that’s why I go.”

       “Because they’re pathetic,” interjected Margie.

       “Basically.”

       “You’re a monster,” said Margie.

       “Now Margie, this a judgment free zone, remember?” Brian said.

       “He’s an a*s,” Ashley said. I’m pretty sure she was into me at that point. “I’m with Margie on this one.”

       “Me too,” exclaimed the twins simultaneously.

       “Okay, okay, but Lincoln is here for the same reason all of you guys are.”

       “What’s that?” I asked.

       “You’re an addict.”

       “What? What? No.”

       “When’s the last time you were in a real relationship? How often do you think about the addiction support groups you attend? How often do you attend these groups?”

        The answers are: Three years ago with this girl called Mandy, we lasted sixth months. I think about them all day; on stage, in the shower, while I’m eating, while I’m walking, while I’m talking, while I’m at them, and while I’m emptying my bowels. At least five group meeting a week, sometimes I’ll make the short drive up to San Francisco to attend a meeting if none are going on in Autumn Falls. Also in San Francisco you get all the really crazy addicts.

        “Come on man, I’m not addicted to addiction support groups, that’s just ridiculous.”

        “Most addictions are ridiculous, but we’re all human, and we’re all prone to them.”

        I scanned the group; all eyes were intently on me, no longer showing disgust, but rather understanding and compassion. I looked at Ashley; she wasn’t really my type with the raven hair, pale skin, and ebony painted finger nails, but she had the most luscious round lips and vivid sapphire eyes.

       “Okay, say, I did have an addiction to addiction support groups,” I looked back over at Brian. “How would I get over this addiction?”

       “Good question Lincoln,” Brian scratched his goatee. “This group isn’t exclusive, so I guess you could come here. If the group is okay with that?”

       They all nodded.

       “But, wouldn’t coming here further feed my addiction? If I am addicted to addiction support groups, wouldn’t coming to this one give into said addiction?”

       “Why don’t you just come to this one exclusively,” Margie said before Brian could say anything.

       “I think that would be the best idea. So what do you say Lincoln?”

       “I guess I could try.”

       “You have to be 100% committed to overcoming your addiction.”

       “Okay, I’m in.”

       The rest of the meeting went off without a hitch, and I felt comfortable. The group was nice; they were like a family, more so than the other groups I had encountered. The twins were: Jacob, 19, community college student, Lord of the Rings. Karl, 23, unemployed, Neil Gaiman. I talked to Ashley after the meeting over donuts and coffee, and we scheduled a date for that Friday. I felt that getting over my addiction would benefit both my career as an actor and my personal relationships. I was going to get clean and no longer let my addiction to addiction support groups control my life. It was an exciting new era in the life of Lincoln C. Vaughn!

     The new era lasted two days. I stood-up Ashley and attended an AA meeting.

 

 

     

Author's Note

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