Greetings, folks and folkettes. I’m writing to inform you all that I have managed a Shawshank-esque miracle escape from rehab using naught but a spoon, an off-brand insulated coffee mug, and a craftily unraveled stocking cap. I am typing this blog entry using a partially functional Nokia 3310 I managed to cobble together from spare parts found in an abandoned Radio Shack on the outskirts of Midland, Texas, and the last two sentences have taken three hours to successfully complete. Please, someone, anyone, come and rescue me from this pre-smartphone and drug free hell.

I’m kidding of course. As it turns out, court dates don’t just magically disappear simply because you check yourself into an addiction treatment center, and attending these court dates is still, sadly, mandatory. I’m out on a pass until this afternoon and wanted to take a few minutes to thank you all for the outpouring of support in the form of letters , cards, and packages that I’ve received during my first three weeks of treatment at Rob’s Ranch. I’ve been knee deep in individual counseling sessions, group counseling sessions, and AA meetings, so if you haven’t received a reply as of yet, I promise I’m doing my best to get back with everyone and plan on doing so in good time. I’ve got a whole lot of repressed emotions to deal with and my fair share of issues to work through, and it’s more work than I ever would have possibly imagined. It is, however, work that is worth the working. As of right now, I’m 23 days sober, which is the longest stretch of true sobriety that I’ve experienced since I was a teenager. It’s intense to say the least.

The people I’m in treatment with at Rob’s are an incredible group of men that also happen to be alcoholics and drug addicts. They are kind, compassionate, and outright hilarious. Thus far, the most important lesson I’ve learned has been taught to me simply by getting to know each and every one of them: Just because you’re a junkie doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person. We smoke thousands of cigarettes, we drink hundreds of gallons of black coffee, and we cry buckets of tears as we dredge up the feelings we’ve been trying for years to avoid feeling. It’s kind of like a men’s only A.M. screening of Forrest Gump on repeat in a theater with a smoking section.

In case any of you are wondering, I smoke an egregious amount of Kamel (with a K) Red 100 cigarettes (or Camel Crush or literally any other kind of non-menthol cigarette) and I can receive mail at the following address:

Bryon White c/o Rob’s Ranch

23899 State Hwy 74, Purcell OK 73080

Just don’t send me any drugs.

Thanks again for all the love and support, I’ll be out in 67 more days and I’ll eventually be working on scheduling a few shows after I transition out of the ranch. Keep an eye on Littleokieland.com and the Quail Facebook page for more info as it becomes available. Thanks to my family, my puppy dogs, and Tonya Little for sticking by me as I go through the program and work the steps and try like hell to come up with some new platitudes to replace the old, boring standards. I love you all, and I’ll see you on down the road.

Reunited with Mulder and Scully for a day.

The Damned Quail: An Update from Bryon White