A 'Very Typical' AA Story

When AA reached out to me it was the spring of 1973 and I was cross-eyed, knock-kneed, and foaming at the mouth in a hospital detox unit. Although bright, articulate, and so hip it was disgusting, I had been standing in line at the various soup kitchens, selling my blood twice a week (for the fabulous sum of five bucks), subsisting on city and county welfare ($41.50 twice a month), drinking oceans of rotgut, and jamming needles into my arm. "The depths of despair" doesn't come close to describing the pain I experienced at that time. A rather typical story around AA, although I didn't know... Login to read more
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