My son Toby and I have been digging for diamond ore. It lies deep- very deep, secretly embedded in the depths of the digital world; you won't come across any in those upper layers Minecraft’s green surface. Finding any at all requires some heavy mining- down many, many levels past the dirt, the cobblestone, the granite. Beyond the deposits of coal and clusters of redstone. I even passed up some gold ore to get to it. When I had finally made it into the bowels of the underworld, it still took a lot of work and dumb luck with my simulated iron pickaxe to reach some of those rare grey cubes glittering with nuggets of sky blue diamond ore. I get there, mark the site, and notify Toby about my discovery. He had tasked me with finding diamond ore for a special purpose. He joins me sublevel and assists in the harvest to bring the bounty to his wizard's crafting table. He can then create all kinds of special implements endowed with magical spells. Every Wednesday, we meet online in this...

Four years ago today was Implosion Day . My absolute worst, my bottom. The day by which all other "bad" days in my life will forever be compared. Nothing since has come close, and although the future is by definition uncertain, I truly doubt any day will. By some quirk of the calendar, Election Day 2016 happened to be November 8th, the second Tuesday of the month. I know this, because it was also my first night spent in residential treatment. I am going to take you back to that fateful evening. Oblivious to any events outside my own skull, I remember being surprised to look up at the TV in the residents' lounge in the Big House to see CNN's John King standing beside a giant map of the U.S., states colored in red, blue, and yellow: After the meeting, I wandered into the residents’ lounge, a large, hospitable room with a sitting area, two computer stations, a refrigerator stocked with high-calorie “nutritious”snacks, a juice fountain, cushy oversized furniture, and a h...

  The following came in yesterday through Netgalley.com, a literary trade industry website where bibliophiles are provided advanced review copies of new books and provide unbiased professional-grade assessments. This is not your feel-good “friends & family” ego-stroking love fest. It’s pretty hardcore, and the reviewers pull no punches:   "Ballad of a Sober Man" was so riveting that I had to finish it within hours of picking it up. Yes, Dr Remy may be a board-certified E.R. physician, but he is also a prolific storyteller. This man can write! I HIGHLY recommend this book to those who are in recovery, and/or to those who have a loved one or friend dealing with alcoholism. It's wonderful to see the humanity behind the disease. This gist of this memoir is that Dr. Joe finds himself, at age 49, "morally bankrupt" and "deep in spiritual debt." In the first few chapters, we meet him as he's "voluntold" into a psychiatric hospital to detox f...

Twenty Days.  It took a year to write. It took six months to edit, and three to promote. Ballad of a Sober Man: An ER Doctor's Journey of Recovery has been up for sale twenty days.  It made the front page of my local newspaper. Saturday was the big book reading with Amber and her book of poetry under the autumn color of the Virginia Blue Ridge. There was music, food, and and fellowship. I sold books. The river of texts was flowing fast. My friends helped with the celebration, and I continue to surpass my expectations of sales online. Funny though, I'm ready to put it all behind me. In the rearview mirror. In the experience timeline of any project, there seems to be the concept, the fantasy, the work, the implementation, the process, the buildup, the moment of release, the celebration, the self-congratulation. I am now experiencing the aftereffects...the reflection, and even, in to a certain degree, the subtle hangover. This morning I took out a large cardboard box and stuffed...

 Dear friends, There’s no other way to describe it. These last two weeks have been wickedly fucked up, but in a good way. Since the book’s release, I have been grabbed at 360 degrees between interviews, podcasts, responding to emails, and getting ready for Saturday’s book reading/signing. I’m experiencing social media fatigue. Oh, and my phone is on fire. Let’s throw in the mix that I am working a string of night shifts in an emergency department out of town. I’m tumbling, mentally speaking.  All of this attention is very humbling and to be quite honest I look forward to the dust settling a a little. One of my interviews ended up on the front page of my hometown paper, which I did not expect, and have mixed feelings about. I am very much feeling like an imposter these days. Dammit Jim, I’m an ER doc, not a real author! But, I have some time off work coming up, and Saturday should be fun. For those of you coming, thank you- enjoy the food, the music and the atmosphere! For thos...

Happy Saturday, By this time many readers have bought the book in both digital and paperback form. I thank you from the depths of my soul. I know sales of Ballad have gone way beyond purchases by friends, family and work associates simply by looking at the stats on my "Author Central" page- I simply do not have a relationship with nearly as many people in this world as total number books that have sold.  Be that as it may, I want to make an appeal for honest   reviews on Amazon . Among other things, reviews are a driving force that spurn more sales. In the year 2020, it appears to me that Amazon's software transcends merely highly complex status, having essentially evolved into artificial intelligence (the sci-fi geek in me is beginning to think entities such as Amazon and Google have moved past simple internet programs and have become living, sentient life forms). If it senses “unusual” review activity- such as faked or paid-for reviews, Amazon will dispatch its gremlin...

The month of October had traditionally been an exciting and festive time of year in my life, dating back to childhood. I savor the memories of planning Halloween costumes, going on hayrides, watching scary movies with friends, and apple picking excursions. In my college years it was all about homecoming, the first chilly morning runs, and the best parties on campus. Later in life, as a dad, it was the month two of my children celebrated birthdays- I would take them to haunted forests or we’d hike through autumn foliage. At age 49, October took on a much, much darker element.  On October 19th 2016, I lost my father.  That month my drinking derailed me as I began my my final alcoholic death spiral. I went on the most severe bender of my life, which would ultimately lead to the death of my old existence and resurrection into my new one. While my sobriety date may be celebrated every November 4th, preceding it are the series of cascading events which would eventually lead to Implo...