"There's No Success Like Failure...
"And failure's no success at all." [No Expectations #3]
Link: No Expectations #1
Link: No Expectations #2
That’s always been one of my favorite Dylan lines. Even though, like many Dylan lines, saying you know exactly what it means is a fool’s errand. But, being a bit of a fool (and a Gemini like Dylan), I think I may have figured out a half-decent interpretation of this one—thanks to my friend Bruce.
I’ve written about Bruce a couple of times. [See links above.] Our relationship began—and I thought would end—when I gave him some money to fill his alleged prescription for Suboxone only to turn back a minute later and see him cross the street to meet up with our most conspicuous street dealer.
He apologized profusely to me when I called him on it, and several times when I walked by after that—never asking for money, just forgiveness. One day I stopped and asked him if he’d ever tried going for treatment at the Clinic. He gave me a familiar litany of excuses, (He’d tried Suboxone before…couldn’t get up that early…missed the bus…etc.)
But one morning, a friend did manage to get him to the Clinic and, for the last three or four months, he’s been on Suboxone.
He readily admits to “slipping” a little—which is a breath of fresh air compared to people who, all evidence to the contrary, claim not to ever use again. Usually, he slips when he oversleeps on Saturday and doesn’t get to the Clinic in time for his weekend take-home. By Sunday he’ll begin to feel the first symptoms of withdrawal and won’t be able to resist taking at least a sniff of whatever he can find on the street to make it until Monday morning.
It seems that people do need to hit rock bottom—often more than once—before finding a way to deal with their addictions. And, for most, the craving is always waiting, watching…right over your shoulder. After all, there’s no success like failure. And failure’s no success at all.
I try to keep a $5 bill in my pocket in case I see Bruce. I know he’ll be happy to get it, won’t complain if he doesn’t, and won’t ask me for more.
His fund-raising tactics are similar to Melvin’s. Rather than carry a cardboard sign, he just appears and asks for a few dollars. But he’s very gracious and understanding when you say you’re not going to give him any money, as if it were a problem neither of you can solve at the moment.
Last week, I didn’t see him for a few days—even when I went past the corner where he usually hangs out or on the bench where he’s been sleeping and often spends a good part of the day buried in blankets and sleeping bags or looking at a game on his phone.
Eventually, I found him standing behind the ticket machine at our aspirationally-named “Harmony” Parking Lot. I was strangely happy to see him and, presumably for other reasons, vice versa. We had our usual check-in: You cheating much? Just a few times. Still got that part-time job? Yup. Looking for another? Not yet. Checked in with Economic Services about a voucher for a hotel room? I gotta do that…but, I kinda like sleeping outside.
Eventually, I told him that I had a $5 bill in my pocket that I’d put there just for him—a fact that didn’t seem to surprise him, as if it were simply a testament to our friendship.
So I was surprised when, uncharacteristically, he tried to raise me to $10 but, characteristically, he just nodded when I said no.1 Then he asked for another 50 cents, admitting that he actually had $5 already and a pack of cigarettes costs $10.50.2 But when I reached in my pocket for spare change and came up empty, he assured me the store wouldn’t mind if he was a little short.
I was surprised at how relieved I was that my friend Bruce now had enough money to buy cigarettes. You could explain it away by saying nicotine’s not as lethal as fentanyl (at least short-term), but my feelings had nothing to do with that. A friend of mine wanted something to ease his pain and I was relieved I could give it to him. Weird.
One time, after he told me about one of his slips. I sighed and admitted that life was hard but encouraged him, saying he was doing good and just needed to keep at it.
Well, he responded, what’s life without challenges?
Naturally, a few days after I first drafted this he came up and stood next to me. I said I thought I had a $5 bill. Turned out I didn’t, but as I looked through my pockets, he saw I had a $20. He tried to convince me to give him that. Hey, nobody’s perfect.
That was the price of a carton when I was a smoker. Sometimes I find myself wondering how they can afford to smoke even though that’s clearly not their biggest economic challenge.
Whoa...we are getting into deep cuts. Every time I hear Neil Young sing "I know that some of you don’t understand., Milk-blood to keep from running out, I realize I was one of those people who sang along but didn't understand what it meant. And I still don't know how it feels.
Getting deeper into the music/drugs/social commentary connections, here’s one from circa 1968 I wish would find a contemporary audience. “This is a song with a message….”
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DMzoqpyUbhg