Didn’t we meet in the night in my sleep somewhere?

I only have the faintest recollection of our conversation.

I remember she told me I’d go back to Chicago someday.

And I remember her telling me that strife was a blessing.

And ..  

Whoa.

I just remembered: Her name was Therese.

Though that didn’t mean anything to me at the time.

Driving away from the wreck of the day ...

... with a lopsided smile.

It’s almost 10 years to the day I found out about Wayne somewhere along I-55 with all my possessions in tow from Chicago to Texas. This time it’s I-35 with all my possessions in tow from La Crosse to Mexico. 

Rest in power, Emi

I’d put in a contract to build a house then.

I’d just had a house built this time around.

I spent way too long somewhere out there circling the drain with a hole blown through me in the stillness of the memory of what I’d had and what I’d lost , thinking the table was tilted and the bottle was empty and ...I’d never get back up.

All my life’s a circle: I have a short list of things I wish I hadn’t done or that I’d do differently. May I not do those things, and may I handle them differently this time around. It cost me everything but my life.

One thing I now know I cannot do: Expose myself to the bitter, relentless, toxic bullies in that group — who will NEVER, EVER leave me the fuck alone — or engage with the high maintenance people in that group anymore. They say in the rooms that “the only thing you have to change is everything,” and even if you do, I promise you that will never be good enough for a narcissistic , perpetually disgruntled , abusive, shitbird , “twelve stepper.”

Quotes used because you know they’re not working steps. Imagine a hundred AA Karens pecking you to death like a pack of rabid geese for a half decade because they have an endless litany of complaints for “the manager” and do not give a single fuck about welcoming or encouraging a newcomer. You would blow a gasket and walk away too.

Oooo Karen is going to leave me a bad Yelp review.

Ooooo Karen is going to DDOS and hack me or sue me or arrest me or call NA World Services on me or ALL of the above.

Oooo Karen is going to name and shame me on Facebook or Reddit or in an email blast to 100 people.

When they banned me Danny said “oooooo, Alex done fucked UP.”

Mmmhhhnnmmmmm.

Now you understand this post and why I might say you’d have to be sick or crazy or have a really big heart to covet that role. I think most of them mean well and we all have our bad days but a couple of them are only there to cause strife or tell us what the fuck to do or demand we entertain THEM. They don’t do shit for our newcomers and they think they’re God’s gift to a group because of their alleged clean time. If they weren’t so delusional they might finally come to realize that ... for most of us ... they’re about as “awesome” as having an intractable cancer on your fucking dick.

And they say I make the program look bad because I tell you what they have done to me.

I might have been angry and bitter and hopeless myself but then every once in awhile someone said they had hope or they wanted to live now. And that’s why we do what we do in spite of how determined some of you have been to make that as difficult or as unpleasant as humanely fucking possible.

Emi was so excited to meet me, she told everyone at the West Hollywood Recovery Center “aids is coming! aids is coming!”

And all these straight white girls from sober living up in , oh hell I don’t even know anymore, Van Nuys or whatever are like “ohhhhkayyyy......”

“Everyone, this is aids!”

“aids? Why would you call yourself that?”

“I didn’t! She did!”

“Do you ... have aids or something?”

“Honey this is West Hollywood, everyone has aids!”

She was like a little kid: “aids is a very nice man!”

I just laughed remembering how sweet and sincere that sounded rolling off her tongue.

I’d told her my name but she never could remember it. And so now the steppers at AA in Los Angeles are already like “That’s not ___, that’s Robert.” 

Thanks to Emi, some of them go “NO, that’s aids!”

We go back to the l0de radio hour, and everyone wanted to know if we fucked or if she made me relapse. I rolled my eyes and said “Emi hugged me and they had to give me two shots of narcan ... and then I gave her my aids.”

She was super nice and happy go lucky but she never really forgave herself for giving her friend the bag that killed him and the last time we spoke she said the walls were about to close in on her over that and that her life was over.

I told her I knew she didn’t mean any harm , and that nobody ever thinks it’s going to happen to them. 70,000 people a year think they’ve got this and know what they’re doing and they’re totally not going to die. 

And, well...

A lot of us would have made different choices if we fully appreciated that we didn’t have this, and didn’t know what we were doing, and were totally about to die right here right now.

Wayne, totally had this.

Totally knew what he was doing.

And now he is totally gone.

Even if it doesn’t kill you right away it might put you in a place where you’re back to not caring if you live or die.

I told her I thought my life was over too and that I’d be going to prison when I was sitting in Vicki Peters’ office probably looking at a half dozen or more charges for computer intrusion. But for whatever reason they gave me a break.

People come and go so strangely around here.

Posted at at October 22, 2020 on Thursday, October 22, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Todo lo que se de un día existe aquí

Aquí, es ahora 

Me paro, ahora

Detengo el movimiento

Quietud, el mundo se detiene para que yo puede esuchar 

Este el cuerpo en el que vivo 

Lo conozco

Lo reconozco

Y al mismo tiempo, aún hay tantos rincones por descubrir 

Este es mi templo

La llave abre la puerta cuando mis ojos se cierran despacio 

Así abro los sentidos hacia todo lo que es 

Cuando este cuerpo de detiene

Aquí estoy 

Mis pies se apoyan en la tierra 

La Tierra me sostiene y mi eleva

La intención que triago en mis manos sostiene la verdad 

No siempre encuetro las palabras adecuadas

Claridad 

Transparencia 

Aquí es ahora

La vida es todo lo que fi , lo que soy

Todo lo que se de un día existe aquí

Y respiro, vivo



Posted at at October 06, 2020 on Tuesday, October 6, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Oceania has never been at war with Eurasia

On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns—after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax and the general hatred of Eurasia had boiled up into such delirium that if the crowd could have got their hands on the 2,000 Eurasian war-criminals who were to be publicly hanged on the last day of the proceedings, they would unquestionably have torn them to pieces—at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia. 

Oceania was at war with Eastasia. 

Eurasia was an ally.

Posted at at September 03, 2020 on Thursday, September 3, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

the house is old

I sit in another house whose character is
just now forming as we live here &
dust & scrub & clean & wash windows or
just live together now our enemies have gone

- enemies because that's what friends become
sometimes when they leave us or we leave them
& cast one another out of our lives like
leaves cluttering the lawn, the grass gone too.
--because we are sometimes difficult to live with.

we gossip sometimes & tear one another into
tiny rags we wear in preference to warm clothing
—furs & scruffy rugs made into hair boas
(like snakes) to wrap around us in the dark.

- enemy is not a word of hate, it's what we call
our lovers when we don't love them any more
now they've rejected us, we live here,
we think of the other house.

the house is old.

it's like an old person we are getting to know
for the first time, or the second

above the house a hawk dives down 
for a mouse beside the pond, beside
the garden, the rosa rugosa, the
blackberries, beside the house where
the faggots live with their friends.

Ron Schreiber

Posted at at June 25, 2020 on Thursday, June 25, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Rain



Years passed by
You don't know on my mind
I wished things could go back to the
Normal days, summer nights
What's on your mind
Moving on ain't always easy

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Oh

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

Hair turned grey, hearts grew cold
Bitter leaves are meant to heal now 
In your case its not that way I do hope
There will be a day
Where you will learn to love me again

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time
For a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

What happened to that day
Where love would carry away
All the untimely rain and pain
What happened to the sun
I'm praying all the rain has gone

And I'm praying we'll forever feel like its a sunny day

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down

Coming down tonight

— Nicole Bus, Rain



Posted at at April 25, 2020 on Saturday, April 25, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Night Light

Every hardship is here to teach us how to dance with this life,
So if some sensation of failure rises up inside,
Remember what it means to shine your light.
Take. One. Deep. Breath.

How many times have you found yourself listening to some
Thought convincing you that nothing would ever get better?
How many countless moments 
Bound by such insidious fetters -
Substances, thoughts, fears, insecurities?

How many times have I railed at the world, at my child, my family?
Moments when hurting myself seemed to offer me some sort of sanity.

Inhale one deep breath with me.

And exhale; let your body just settle and rest.

Let the breathing be easeful and smooth,
Let this peace emerge from within you,
And let this quiet be your food, for a few more seconds.

This is how you cultivate a state of meditation.

This is when you bring coherence to your entire system.

And as you accrue time in this state of meditation,
This state eventually becomes your steadfast quality of being.

Even when things seem intolerably challenging.



Posted at at April 20, 2020 on Monday, April 20, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Lady Liberty

Hovering over the waters and watching civilization being built over and over again:

The dead rising from their graves.

The others, picking up shovels and helping dig.

Cities being built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed again.

I’m like, this is taking a long time — why is this necessary?

Every single time, I watch an angry and ancient goddess who looks like the Statue of Liberty , rising out of the ground and destroying civilizations and men.

They attack her and she smites them all.

They try to bury her.

They try to encapsulate her in concrete.

But over and over and over again , she rises and demolishes everyone and everything in her path.

The people are black and white.

They have outdoor ceremonies.

Sometimes they worship Lady Liberty. And they are smitten again.

Sometimes it’s more peaceful and productive.

Then I’m starting to realize the purpose she serves:

To slay wicked civilizations and men who harm the earth and her people.

Posted at at April 19, 2020 on Sunday, April 19, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Hell: An Exhibit

I was excited to get to go see The Exhibit.


I already knew the punch line: We'd realize we were already dead and in Hell.

I have no pants on.

I kept getting kicked to the back of the line, only to be met with escalating and conflicting demands for methods of proving that I'd paid my admission price.

The first exhibit was the kitchen:

A dazed and distressed young woman who looked like a startled zombie paced back and forth mindlessly from the coffee maker to the fridge to rummage for something to eat.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

And so on.

A pile of chocolate chip cookies, soft batch, sweet and rotten, stacked high to the ceiling on the counter with flies buzzing everywhere around it.

Feed your addiction.

Eat the sugar.

Make that coffee.

Punch that clock.

Bring your ass back to the refrigerator and rummage and rummage and rummage all you want, you will never find anything in there that feeds the hunger inside of you.

A member of the audience giggles and claps her hands, bravo!

She says, "They might be in hell, but they've made it beautiful if they are."

I mimicked the zombie faces of the woman trapped in the kitchen.

Go to work.

Caffienate up.

Feed my addictions.

This pissed of one of the people running the exhibit and they came to bounce me out.

I said "oh please! I'm fascinated and I haven't even seen half of it!"

They grinned.

I asked "where's my backpack?"

I was no longer carrying my load.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

Allelula. Allelula. Allelula.

None of it mattered now.

[FIN]

Posted at at April 14, 2020 on Tuesday, April 14, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Things You Can Do out in the Desert

- See contrails for miles. ✈️
- Read a book by moonlight 🌙
- Track satellites with the naked eye. 🛰
- Remember your name, ‘cause there ain’t no one for to cause you no pain. ✅














Posted at at January 08, 2020 on Wednesday, January 8, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Waiting for Hope



Romans 8 

24: For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?

25: But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.

Posted at at November 29, 2019 on Friday, November 29, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

All my life I've (failed to) fight to stay.

I'm going to answer, protecting
It can be so hard to forgive
It's not what I thought, and it's not what I pictured
When I was imagining my man

You are so nervous all of the time,
living the classics
I know that imagining my man
Imagining, imagining my man

All my life I've had to fight to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey

You have this dream, apparently I'm not done
I leave and it's dreadful
If you get there
Be honest, respectful

All my life (hey!) I never tried to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey

I hope one day we will get that way
Lucky to be given the chance
I do not have the answer
But I don't have the wish to go back


Posted at at November 18, 2019 on Monday, November 18, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

The Day They Found the Cure

There’d be dancing in the streets, I’d thought, the day they found the cure.

 Our world would be better when we were all connected, or so I’d thought for sure.

 Did you ever spend your life fighting for something and then wake up one day to a headline announcing that it went your way or that we were all going to be okay?

 The change you wanted to see, the change you wanted to be in the world had arrived under the cover of darkness without any warning and the moment you waited your entire life for meant nothing to anybody, not even to you at this point.

 And so we buttered our toast and folded the paper up on the table for later as though we would ever have the time to sit down and read the rest of it before tomorrows edition arrived.

 The damage was done and not a damn thing in this world would ever wipe all of our cheeks dry but I’m going to be late for work if I sit here and dwell on this any more than I already have.

 Neither our victory nor our defeat were even worth a like or a retweet, it’s just that we all woke up one day and queers didn’t matter to anybody or even to each other anymore.

 Young men and women: “You’ve got to go to the city,” they’d said.

 “The world isn’t as stupid as where you are from.”

 I’ve been to the city, it turns out they are also quite dumb.

 And the only people left alive are what you and I have become.

Posted at at November 06, 2019 on Wednesday, November 6, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Postcards from West Texas

Some advice about digging trenches from a gentleman in Abilene:

The first week, you’re like oh no... woe is me, I’m in a trench.

The second week, it’s “fuck you God, for putting me in this trench.”

Week three: God, give me the perseverance to remain in this trench and keep digging.


Posted at at October 26, 2019 on Saturday, October 26, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

How to Speak to Someone You Love about Bipolar Disorder

❌🚫 “BITCH, you are so fucking crazy they had to put up roadblocks and stop traffic for miles!”

✅✅ “In your presence......  time stands still!”




Posted at at October 17, 2019 on Thursday, October 17, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Fentanyl for the Soul





I escaped from the clutches of some holy rolling treatment center in Arizona.

“Jesus is Fentanyl for my soul!”

“Give him 40 CC’s — Christ Conquers!”

I woke up with a boy smiling at me and whispering “activate.”

“activate.”

“activate.”

He waved his hand in front of my face.

“psst. activate... activate!”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and said “bitch, do I look like Siri or Alexa?”

He asked me if he could kiss me.

I scowled and went back to sleep.

He was still next to me when I woke up.

He asked me to kiss him again.

Ah fuck it, you’re pushing forty. Before long, you’ll long for the days of your youth when some boy begged you to please kiss him.

I grabbed him and obliged.

We got yelled at:

“NO TOUCHING!!!!!! NO KISSING!”

Hehe.

They kept talking about suiciding me and I half expected some sinister figure to approach me and say “Hillary Clinton sends her regards” before bashing me with a dumbbell or whatever.

They meant suicide precautions.

Oh, whew. Glad we cleared that up.

Awkward!

*backs slowly towards the door*

This nurse was going to refuse to give my my heart and HIV meds to make an example of me for being late for medication.

She reconsidered when it was starting to look like I was going to embed her medication cart in the drywall before her shift was over.

The next day I pointed out that they’d release the fucking hounds to remind everyone to attend AA, but that as a licensed medical facility they were dead set against reminding people to take medications.

The place is designed like a fucking casino.

Why the fuck would anyone have any concept of time in there?

They quickly changed some policies and started announcing medication times on the PA.

Speaking of the F word, their thing was clean language, clean living.

I tried to come up with a little song:

“Frack frack frack a duck... say how do you do to a kangaroo? Say good morning gang to the orangutans, a wholesome outing at the zoo!”

I bonded with the other gay Eskimo in our tribe.

He talked about how the gay meetings were all toxic here, too.

Et tu, Brujas?

So I’m sitting there in my Britney Spears T-shirt making penises out of play-doh and sticking the bendy figurine’s legs behind his head.

This volcanic bitch asks me if I’m re-living the trauma of my addiction.

I lost it and just about cried laughing.

One of their chaplains started talking about one of the churches I attend.

I was like hey, I’m from there!

“Really?”

Yes girl, I’m a SPY, they sent me here to END you!

Just kidding, no really, that’s the one all my Liturgy Service posts are about though.

I signed out against medical advice. Frack that place.

Their program consisted of hour after hour after hour of idiots at the pulpit droning in about how AA works y’all!

I’ve been around 11+ years and I’ve spent hundreds of hours listening to men and women give the ole’ tired and true formulaic Saturday Night Special from the podium.

Half of them are drunk or high now.

My story might be fucked up but you know what, at least it’s mine and it’s not “hurrr durrr hurrr my daddy beat me and I started drinking wine. And then I drank some more wine. And then some more wine. And muh steps and muh sponsor and I lived happily ever after.” 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪



If you really want to piss me off, give me and the tattoos the once over and tell me “it’s okay, you don’t have to believe in god right now.”

That’s a rullll purty book you brought, SHIT, that’s the same color blue my aunt turned when they narcan’ed her, y’all! Maybe you and the other missionaries can teach me how to read it someday. 🙄

A few of the staff came by to tell me I’m probably going to relapse. Blah blah blah, I know, I’m Disobedient so I’m going to DIE. Fuck you. You know when Judge Rutherford was going around in the 1800s with his “Millions Now Living Will Never Die” speeches, it was common for editors to quip “Millions Now Living Would Rather Die Than Hear Judge Rutherford Speak.”

I so love it when Christians share the Good News with me.

What, do you mean I won’t be a success story like the 20% of the people on the unit who have successfully completed your program one or more times and are back after a relapse? 😭

Another rehab scam that regurgitates BillShit and charges your insurance $3000+ a day for it.




Posted at at September 17, 2019 on Tuesday, September 17, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Loving you through all of your human problems exhausts me

These are wounds, not scars
It will only be a scar when it stops bleeding, stops hurting
You can forget about scars
But you cannot forget about wounds
Everyone meets the injured with sympathy or disgust
Do you need a tissue?
No, I need stitches.

— Brother Ali

Posted at at September 09, 2019 on Monday, September 9, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Everywhere is my Bathroom

Some say that a toilet is a fundamental right
But McDonald’s lobby closes at 10 o clock at night
No Public Restrooms in the grocery store
I hear someone pissing all over the floor

I stared at him in horror
And my eyes got real big,
“Why not head over to Folsom
To find a watersports pig?”

A gentleman joins him and I avert my eyes:
“You must be new here,” he impatiently sighs
He squats down on Market and shits on the street
And some of it splashes all over my feet

I head to the Tenderloin ,
Near Felt and Van Ness
I’m trying to find an alley
To leave a big wet brown mess

Some junkie is watching, I expect him to cringe
He says I just left a hypodermic syringe
In my steaming hot offering
Under the Alvord Lake Bridge

I demand to see the mayor of this urine soaked town
(No problem sir, she will be right down)
Ms Mayor, I beseech you, this has gone way too far
She says “Try Uber Toilet, you just shit in the car!”

They’ll send one to you,
wherever you are:
You can leave them a tip,
and they’ll tweeze your brown star!

No thank you, I prefer to squat on a bowl
And wipe my bottom clean with a soft Charmin roll
Your sanitation problem is out of control,
I will see myself out of this filthy shithole

Posted at at September 08, 2019 on Sunday, September 8, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

I sought him, but I found him not.



On my bed by night I swiped through profiles and sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not.

I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him who my soul loves.

I sought him, but found him not.

The Leathermen found me as I went about the city:

“Have you seen him who my soul loves?”

One of them asked if I’m into father/son role play: He paddled and flogged me and I reported him to child protective services.

I said to him: “I never liked my father.”

I sought him, but I found him not.

I created an account on Recon: They immediately banned me for saying that my fetish was “monogamy.”

I sought him, but I found him not.

I traveled to Europe in search of self destruction and romance: I was offered something called Meow Meow in Belgium and then I woke up at an orgy in Portugal.

I sought him, but I found him not.




My date from Grindr stole my wallet, car keys, and a wireless keyboard: He wasn’t even cute.

I sought him, but I found him not.

O, daughters of Scruff, I adjure you: by the incels and the hoes playing the field, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.

Posted at at August 28, 2019 on Wednesday, August 28, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Orange Jumpsuits

Orange jumpsuits are durable
Orange jumpsuits are comfy
Damn, I look fresh in orange with a new pair of gleaming white K-Swiss Velcro shoes

Beige khakis are ugly
Beige khakis arent snuggly
Strike a pose against the cinder blocks in a crisp white clean Hanes crew cut shirt.

Blue scrubs never fit right
Blue scrubs, too loose, too tight
But they’re easy to wash, just give me clean undies and socks

Orange jumpsuits are durable
Orange jumpsuits are comfy
I’d wear them on the outs
If cops wouldn’t scream “FREEZE” or “HALT!”

My milkshake brings all the boys out to the rec yard.

Posted at at August 07, 2019 on Wednesday, August 7, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Daddy



Daddy’s worth millions but he left you where he found you busting your ass working your second shift for the day in a restaurant off of some dirt road over in this rural town.

I’m not sure why you wish you were his and only his.

Maybe it’s the way he checks up on you.

Maybe it’s the way he keeps you from your friends.

Maybe it’s the way he keeps you at arms length and doesn’t give you what you want.

Doesn’t that just make you weak in the knees?

You say this man could change your life, if only.

You sound lonely.

Maybe someday Daddy will whisk you away to that factory town that the rest of the world rolls their windows up and holds their noses for and drives through as quickly as possible. Perhaps you can take a tour of the cannery together and learn everything there is to know about black beans.

And then what?

A quiet lifetime of whispering to faceless men a hundred miles away in their homes with their great big walk in closets in which they will neatly fold and put their sexuality away at night along with any scent or trace or memory of you before they kiss their wives goodnight?

Changing people’s lives doesn’t give you a lot to show for it other than changing people’s lives.

I wonder if Daddy ever thinks about the patterns in your irises when you’re not in his arms at night.

Posted at at July 14, 2019 on Sunday, July 14, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Eight rainbows in the Utah sky, watching clouds reflect in puddles as I’m driving by

Mormons believe that the earth will be renewed and rebuilt to its paradisiacal glory. I hope they carefully disassemble Utah, put it away in storage, and then put it back exactly the way that it is. Except maybe without the plastic litter.








Posted at at July 01, 2019 on Monday, July 1, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Forgive me Therese for I have dearly wished to push a lawnmower over several of your flowers

St. Therese loved nature, and often used the imagery of nature to explain how the Divine Presence is everywhere, and how everything is connected in God's loving care and arms. Therese saw herself as "the Little Flower of Jesus" because she was just like the simple wild flowers in forests and fields, unnoticed by the greater population, yet growing and giving glory to God. Therese did not see herself as a brilliant rose or an elegant lily, by simply as a small wildflower. This is how she understood herself before the Lord - simple and hidden, but blooming where God had planted her.

Therese believed passionately that Jesus was delighted in his "Little Flower," and just as a child can be fascinated by the grandeur of a simple flower, she believed that Jesus was fascinated by her as his "Little Flower." Therese understood that she was just like the tiny flower in the forest, surviving and flourishing through all the seasons of the year. Because of God's grace, she knew that she was stronger than she looked. Following the Carmelite tradition, Therese saw the world as God's garden, and each person being a different kind of flower, enhancing the variety and beauty which Jesus delighted in. When various people tried to explain her powerful inspiration and her place within the Church, it always seemed to come back to one title "the Little Flower."

In her autobiography, she beautifully explains this spirituality:

Jesus set before me the book of nature. I understand how all the flowers God has created are beautiful, how the splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not take away the perfume of the violet or the delightful simplicity of the daisy. I understand that if all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty, and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wild flowers. So it is in the world of souls, Jesus' garden. He has created smaller ones and those must be content to be daisies or violets destined to give joy to God's glances when He looks down at His feet. Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wills us to be.

source

Posted at at July 01, 2019 on by |   | Filed under:

An eye for an eye makes the whole world high



I feel raindrops falling washing off my tears
I been walking through a daydream all my years
Oh I do believe in world peace my dear, I do
Wise women will call your name
If you believe in impossible things
If you believe if it grows from seeds to a beautiful tree
What you want, what you want, you want
Sun don't shine
And we all know why
Bullets keep flying
So many shooting
In the darkest times
Through the darkest night
What you want what you want
Sun don't shine
And we all know why
Bullets keep flying
So many crying
In the darkest night
Through the darkest times
What you want what you want
I can feel it in the air it just grew thin
Then the numbers they be counting coming in
Do you believe in world peace my friend

— Kaytranada, Bullets

Posted at at June 28, 2019 on Friday, June 28, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

The Lottery (A New Chatroom Owner is Nominated)

It’s Tessie,” Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. “Show us her paper, Bill. “

Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. 


It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. 

Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.

“All right, folks. ”
 Mr. Summers said. “Let’s finish quickly. “

Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. 


The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box 

Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. 


“Come on,” she said. “Hurry up. “

Mrs. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said, gasping for breath: “I can’t run at all. You’ll have to go ahead and I’ll catch up with you. “

The children had stones already. 


And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles.

Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. “


It isn’t fair,” she said. 

A stone hit her on the side of the head.

Old Man Warner was saying, “Come on, come on, everyone. ” 

Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

“It isn’t fair, it isn’t right,” Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

Posted at at June 19, 2019 on Wednesday, June 19, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Rise

He said that he's had a very bad weekend. 
I didn't ask the question: I already knew. 

I said that I’ve had a lot of very bad weekends. 
And most of the other days were pretty bad too.



What's happenin' little brother

Are you (still) getting by?
On the corner everyday, you like the pain
Are you still (are you still), getting high?

Now I'm only your reflection
Deeply bothered chocolate soul complexion

Believe we’re going to rise again
Would you please tell a friend
To come on in
Take your time and make sure that you do it right

While the Cadillac lean from side to side
While I'm hangin' with my friends
Just to be alive is a reason to ride,
especially with my kin

Hit a little something that will feel it right
Just might hit it again
(just might hit it again)
Open your eyes don't you be surprised, when we start to win

Sometimes I want to feel like I'm the one in control (nothing to lose yea)
And take back every element of me that they stole (so hard)
I'll be fine when I heal my mind, body, and soul (Until then)
Take your time (take your time) and make sure that you do it right
(we'll be makin' moves)
Makin' moves while knowing God is on our side

While the Cadillac lean from side to side
When I'm hangin' with my friends
Just to be alive is a reason to ride,
especially with my kin

Hit a little something that will feel it right
Just might hit it again.
(just might hit it again)
Open your eyes don't you be surprised, when we start to win
(in case you didn't know)

I feel you all the time
(when is it gonna work out, I have no doubt)
Yes I do, I do
(this song is a dedication to the inspirational.. )

I know your grindin but I want you to keep in mind
Take your time and make sure you do it right
(make sure that you do it right yeaaa)

Makin moves while knowing God is on our side
(you gotta know, you just got to believe yea)
No one can make you want it more than you, so rise (don't you ever)

Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!
Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!
Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!

Martin Luther McCoy (Rise)

Posted at at April 07, 2019 on Sunday, April 7, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

A Day 1 Activation might go something like this

I received permission to write about this. 

The story is better than this, but the only person whose whole process I am at liberty to put out there on this page is my own.

******

She came into the room with the name “oxygen waster.”

I shouldn’t have laughed at it.

Because she kind of meant business.

But I did laugh.

I saw other people do the same thing: 

“LOL. OMG I LOVE YOUR NICKNAME.”

She was confused: Why is that so god damned funny to everyone? 

Because we’ve all felt like that before.

She explained that she got it from a band.

Not everyone comes back.

But she came back.

And then she came back again.

It only took a couple of days before the chat robot offered another animal in the hunting game.

Somebody typed !axe

I don’t even know what the bot says anymore. Something like: “Whoop whoop! [your] hatchet swings right and left, [you] have massacred a [$animal]. This juggalo killer has smoked X animals.”

The new arrival has a question: “wait, which one of you is the juggalo?”

The near 40-year-old with a hatchet girl tattoo who wrote the website with the aforementioned juggalo Easter egg.

“Mmfwcl”

“MCL”

And when she said we made her cry and want to live,

I cried too.

Maybe other people leave this place with hope,

But I’m not usually one of them.

Posted at at March 16, 2019 on Saturday, March 16, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Day 1 Activation

I had a dream we were going to build another website again for some reason.

And you were there,
And you were there,
And (you) were there.

Excitedly, we raced around town in a sedan from one member’s door to another to whisper the news and get them into the car.

I began to reload a Linux operating system on a system and I watched the dots flash across the screen ....................................
....................................
....................................
....................................

We hurried off to Ashlyn’s house.

She wasn’t home.

Well, we’d better not tell her now anyway,

She might not understand or support this.

(Okay, let’s go.)

There are already seven of us ready.

Isn’t that enough?

(Why yes, I reckon that it is.)

Is she on board?

(Uh-huh. She’s using a new nickname and pretending she’s new.)

Is he on board?

(Uh-huh. Him too.)

What about her?

(No. She’s already on another site.)

What’s her excuse? I’m on about five of them that I cycle through all day long.

Things were going so well, I turned to one of them and said “You’ve never been here to see a day one activation, have you?”

She got really quiet.

I went back upstairs to resume my work.

Two of the others came upstairs looking for me and they seemed quite alarmed.

(“Day one activation.”)

(Why did he say that?)

(How does he know what that is?)

“You need to go to the hospital right now.”

“Why?”

“Our movements have torn a hole through you.”

“What?”

“Go downstairs. Right Now. We’re not kidding, we called an ambulance and they’re on the way. You have to go.”

(I was confused but I agreed.)

I got to the bottom of the stairs and saw the flashing lights outside of the front door.

(I opened the door.)

“Is this him?”

(Hm, I don’t feel so good. I held on to my stomach.)

I noticed the trail of blood and I blacked out.

Posted at at March 16, 2019 on by |   | Filed under:

Squeak, Squeak, Squeak went the sneakers... Clang, Clang, Clang went the bell



I started running through this very door at the Milwaukee County orphanage named after Aemelian.

Back then the double doors were wooden and green, with big brass Corbin bars you’d push on to open them.

Somewhere about two stories above, a silver bell with the word “Simplex” printed on it would ring and clatter furiously as your Velcro sneakers squeaked down the stairs.

I preferred running away when Robert was on duty. The only thing Robert could ever catch me doing was lying, such as when I’d deny being a homosexual to the other boys. 

I had a girlfriend and she was Black as HELL and her name was, um, Aisha!

Robert had started laughing and he asked me what color her eyes were.

I panicked and blurted out “blue!”

“Tell me how you kick your game to Aisha. What do you say to her when you call her up — like hi Aisha, do you want to come over and play? What do you say to Aisha?”

He had me so bad right front of everyone.

Twelve year old me bit my lip, and said very calmly, “Hey Aisha. Let’s get together and fuck sometime!”

That fat bastard dropped his flashlight and fell over on the floor crying and wheezing.

I never heard the end of it from the older Black men after that.

What’s up! You talk to AISHA lately? Gonna get together and fuuuuuck sometime?

I lived for that kind of shit.

Paradise awaited you just outside at the intersection of 89th & Capitol. There was a big and beautiful, if not somewhat foreign world I was a little too impatient to get out there and see for myself at that age. 

It was strange out there and it would always remain so.

My freedom was always short-lived and it would always remain so.

If it was cold outside I’d sleep in a little red shed behind the Open Pantry at 27th and Capitol, shivering and huddled up against the compressors blowing hot air into the shed from the beverage coolers inside the store.

I’d ask strangers for bus fare and steal things from the mall. 

Malls were heated, nobody asked questions.

I didn’t know about the rocks on the shore of Lake Michigan yet or it’s a sure bet I would have been found there every single time.

I remember being stoned at one of my first NA meetings when they read Step 10 out loud and got to that part about “making amends to the mall.

I sat there in my chair thinking “Hahaha! Never happening! They tore the mall down!!!!”

I befriended a boy around my own age named Drew, and I don’t know where his family was in all of this but he always had some family to spend the night with. Random strangers taking in a 12 year old with no questions asked. So many people coming and going.  I'm not saying that I know shit about the game or about invisible lives and invisible suffering but I've seen signs of it.

Drew liked me, he’d do funny things like whipping his dick out and waving it like a puppet and singing along to Mary J Blige’s “Sweet Thing.” 

Remember when that album dropped? Whenever I hear “Real Love” on the the radio and those first few opening ticks take me back there, I don’t know about y’all but I loved 1992.

Running away never really worked. You’d get hungry or you’d run out of money or something.

Adulthood turned out to be something along those same lines.

Except now that I'm all grown up, I don't have St Aemelian's to come crawling back to.

Off I’d go, back to 8901 W. Capitol.

Until the next time I eyeballed that door and my heart started pounding again as I jonesed for one more push of that beautiful brass bar.

One more clang of that silver Simplex bell.

One more squeak of my sneakers scuffing against that concrete.

One more clack as the doors at the bottom burst open.

One more breath of freshly cut grass in someone’s yard in Wauwatosa.

Never gonna catch me, I’m the Ginger Bread Man.

We'll do it all over again until the Ginger Bread Man is tired and dirty and hungry again.

Posted at at March 09, 2019 on Saturday, March 9, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Why?

After I deleted the website, I was at a hotel in Utah and having a bad day.

I had a dream where a woman visited me and comforted me and told to put the site back up because it gave a lot of people hope.

She explained to me that the name I chose for myself translates to xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And that it was unintentional but appropriate, because it described where we were.

She said that I was welcome in Utah.

I woke up and laid there crying for about an hour.

Posted at at February 19, 2019 on Tuesday, February 19, 2019 by |   | Filed under: ,

A Rude Awakening

“He picks us up like a needle on a record and puts us in another groove.”

I heard him.

The guy stared at me and asked me if I understood what he meant.

I said “no.”

They were making fun of him outside:

"I just.. can't with him. I had to walk out on him."

I snapped a picture of someone's mean tweet because I was interested but I was only half listening at first and I missed the first part that she tweeted about.

I read her tweet, thought about it for a minute, went back inside, and said “Hey Rainbow?”

“Yeah?”

“God rides me like a hood rat in a stolen Camaro.”

He laughed.

I left.

And then about ten minutes later it clicked.

I went back to that bitchy meeting and raised my hand:

“God rides me like a hood rat in a stolen Camaro.”

A couple of the mean tweet crowd snickered.

I continued:

“He picked me up like a needle on a record and he put me in another groove. Fuck, that made my night."

The chair said “mic drop!” and I left again.

Posted at at January 25, 2019 on Friday, January 25, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Look at Your Recovery Shine

Here's a paste of the full transcript, I was not the one "trolling" them , the only thing I said was under the nickname "woody."

 <UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend477!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend477
<thisisfun> false advertising bitches, down right lies. You all need Jesus
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend656!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend656
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend815!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend815
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend285!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend285
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend556!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend556
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend780!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend780
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend613!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend613
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend173!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend173
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend639!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend639
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend880!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend880
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend039!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend039
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend041!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend041
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend601!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend601
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall Hyjinx!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to Hyjinx
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend861!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend861
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend494!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend494
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend154!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend154
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall Nae!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to Nae
<Nae> Thank you good to be back
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend619!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend619
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend902!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend902
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend038!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend038
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall yallsuck!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to yallsuck
--- Stan has banned *!*sex*@*
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall SexFiend678!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to SexFiend678
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall S3xFiend829!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to S3xFiend829
<yallsuck> haha
<Stan> fuck you
<Stan> asshole
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall S3xFiend986!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to S3xFiend986
+++ Stan set the channel to mode +i
<yallsuck> how many tits does susie have
*** yallsuck was kicked by Stan (Stan)
<Shiloh> Hi Stan
+++ Stan has taken voice from Freedom
+++ Stan has taken voice from nun
+++ Stan has taken voice from woody
+++ Stan set the channel to mode -i
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall S3xFiend972!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to S3xFiend972
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall S3xFiend844!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to S3xFiend844
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall S3xFiend116!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to S3xFiend116
+++ Stan has taken op from UnderDawg
+++ Stan has given voice to CanadianFarmer
<Stan> Hi CF
<CanadianFarmer> she said she felt an instant connection to me, how many others has she harmed
<CanadianFarmer> truthfully
<Shiloh> ?
<Stan> og geezus
<Shiloh> Who?
<Shiloh> Nancy Pelosi?
*** softylikewoody was kicked by Shiloh (Shiloh)
<Stan> this is screwed up
<Shiloh> Yep
<Stan> this fucker never quits
*** spongelikeshiloh was kicked by Shiloh (Shiloh)
<Shiloh> We do what we can
<Shiloh>  If it was real life we could beat their ass
<Shiloh> and would
*** yoursiteisdone was kicked by Shiloh (Shiloh)
<Stan> he is a pussy doesnt even have the balls to call me even when I said to block his phone number..
<Shiloh> He's a scrawny diseased little pervert with a short time to live
<woody> im not even doing this, im robert. i dont know who THAT is.
<Stan> wait
Cannot send to channel: #NAChatHall
<Stan> dont kick
<cantkeepmeout> fried cat for lunch
<Stan> Robert have the fucking balls to call me to peace of slime
<cantkeepmeout> what did he call you
<Stan> you are slime
<cantkeepmeout> i call betsy cat hair
<Stan> fucking pussy
<cantkeepmeout> wow look at your recovery shine
<cantkeepmeout> fool
<Stan> recovery my ass you fuck peave of shit
<Stan> come on give me what ever you have
<cantkeepmeout> lol simmer down clown
<Stan> I am not like the others and scared of you
<Shiloh> Come on Stan...the LAST thing he wants to be is a "Man"
<cantkeepmeout> haha or as smart i see
<Stan> peace of shit
<Stan> fuck you
<Stan> smart??
<cantkeepmeout> lmmfao
<Stan> your a dumbass
<cantkeepmeout> stfushiloh dont you have dishes to do
<cantkeepmeout> another generation to ruin
<Shiloh> Unless they can cure aids and other stds his days are numbered anyway. If the drugs don't kill him the disease will
<cantkeepmeout> get busy
<cantkeepmeout> Youve got aids
 <Shiloh> He's so fragile now he can hardly type
<cantkeepmeout> but you wont kill me
<cantkeepmeout> you mean can't
<Shiloh> He's crap his pants if hhe met either of us on the street
<cantkeepmeout> get skooled
<Stan> hey havent you noticed I havent really been trying anything on your site? Yeah keep this up and you will find yourself in a court. Remember I have all your info now. I will send everything to your mothers house..
<Shiloh> he can hardly walk
<cantkeepmeout> hahaha go ahead fred
<Shiloh> They say even the other perverts think he's unsafe
<Stan> and also your so called biz name.. Kiss that goodbye
<cantkeepmeout> you should know shiloh, guess what they say about you
<cantkeepmeout> hahaha
<cantkeepmeout> hahaha
<cantkeepmeout> pansies
<Stan> yeah look whos talking
<cantkeepmeout> wheres slutty
<UnderDawg> \\/\//elcome to the NA Chat Main Hall woody_!
+++ UnderDawg has given voice to woody_
<Shiloh> He's scared to stay in one place very long for fear  of real people
<woody_> y'all. im robert. ive been in here as woody this whole time. thats not me.
<woody_> i recorded everything
<woody_> and im blogging it
<cantkeepmeout> shiloh stfu you aren't real, only real small
<woody_> my cell carrier is sprint
<woody_> thats at&t
<woody_> thats not me
<Shiloh> I think ..." among his fellow perverts" he's shunned
<Shiloh>  they want to live
<Shiloh> for a while
<woody_> you homophobic
*** cantkeepmeout was kicked by Stan (Stan)
*** woody_ was kicked by Stan (Stan)
*** woody was kicked by Stan (Stan)
!!! You have been kicked from #NAChatHall

Posted at at January 23, 2019 on Wednesday, January 23, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

A Christmas Story

It was a lonely Christmas,
but I wasn’t alone,
at the Dead Hooker Motel.

It was somewhere south of Pico,
where the city of Los Angeles
stopped giving a shit
about naming streets anymore
and just gave them all numbers.

My pussy was poppered up
and trembling like a shitting dog.
I heard the desk clerk say “damn, bitch”
as he used his key to open the door,
Then he fucked me too.

The walls were stained,
The mattress creaked,
We humped and pumped
in a heated frenzy;
and when I left, I leaked.

Posted at at December 27, 2018 on Thursday, December 27, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

Renascence

"How do you like living in Los Angeles?"

"Uh... well. I didn't think I was going to be your Uber driver when I grew up. But when I look at the smoldering ruins of the life I left behind, I suppose this is a blessing."

Posted at at December 18, 2018 on Tuesday, December 18, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

Liturgy Service

I opened the program to the first page and I was confronted with the following:

We’re here because we’re people who have heard a rumor that there’s life to be found on the other side of death.

We’re here because just the rumor is enough to bring us hope and just the hope is enough to bring us a moment of life.

We’re here because even though it is only a flicker, a moment, a breath, it’s changed our death forever. Welcome to Liturgy.

Everyone started singing a hymn that wasn’t in the book.

My companion for the day was another fellow traveler, a pastor on sabbatical from her congregation in Kentucky. I learned a trick when you’re a visitor or a newcomer — find other new people and make them feel welcome. 

“You don’t know Let it Shine? It’s an old Black hymn. Didn’t the Jehovah’s Witnesses ever sing that?”

“No. They had their own hymns. Terrible stuff like From House to House, From Door to Door.”

I’ve said a lot of horrible things recently. I’ve failed to resist or speak out. Forgive me and help me to bring Justice on Earth.

During the quiet time I walked past a cubby where they offered “anointing and spiritual healing.” There was a woman in a blanket being embraced, sobbing with a twisted look on her face. God only knows what she’s going through but it was intense.

We returned to our seats and they read through the prayers anonymously submitted by the congregation.

People were lonely.

People were addicted.

People were grieving.

People were struggling with depression,

Someone left an abusive relationship and didn’t know where they were going.

Damn the darkness that makes me feel separated from God.

It was like a punch in the gut realizing that somewhere in this room someone was going through all these things and putting on their bravest face. Suddenly I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

I lost my shit and bawled.

They offered communion:

Child of God
The body of Christ 
Broken for you

I wasn’t sure what you were supposed to say. I raised my wafer, giggled nervously, and said “Cheers.”

The communion volunteer busted out laughing.

It was everything I hoped it would be.

I had showed up feeling hopeless and dead inside. I have to figure out what I’m doing next but I don’t feel like it matters and I don’t really care what’s next.

Maybe I can put one foot in front of the other and do this one more time.

I tried going to an AA meeting afterwards.

The speaker droned on and on and on and on and on and on and on. I’m not saying his story wasn’t compelling, just that after 45 minutes I was squirming in my seat and I had to go.

I got back to the hotel and dug out those drink coupons. 

I’ll take another two glasses of um... communion... please.

Just kidding. I wasn’t able to finish the first glass.

Posted at at October 28, 2018 on Sunday, October 28, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

A Journey from Here to There to Here

Look up at the stars,
Look up at the moon.
Only you know 
(And they know)
What they have guided you through.







Posted at at April 24, 2018 on Tuesday, April 24, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

“A Dumpster in Connecticut”

I don’t even know what TV show they’re watching in the living room but I overheard a snippet:

“You ever notice how all of his stories are like, this one time, I got so wasted? Or, this one time, I woke up in a dumpster in Connecticut?”

I usually ignore the TV, but —

I snorted a little too loudly at that for reasons I would rather not elaborate on.

Posted at at November 28, 2017 on Tuesday, November 28, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Stuck

Wayne and I were both perplexed by our friend Derek’s behavior ever since he’d bought something called an “iPad.”

Wayne said “He just sits there stuck in a loop staring at everyone’s profile pictures. I think something’s wrong with him. He sat underneath that tree all day. And when I went to check on him he was staring off into space and he had tears rolling down his face.”

Posted at at November 10, 2017 on Friday, November 10, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Forgiveness

Robin and I used to go at i when I was banned.

She had called me a piece of shit.

We were on opposite sides of enemy lines.

When the schoolteacher banned Robin I heard them both out.

I knew who the schoolteacher really was.

She was the malicious harpie who took glee in tattling on me to the principal and bragging to me that she had done so. She was the one who loved turning the screws closed on my coffin for a year.

I see you.

I unbanned Robin and made her a legal co-owner.

I demoted the school teacher.

Robin wanted to know why I’d do this for her:

“I was horrible to you.”

I hope she finds herself inspired to forgive some people who “don’t deserve it” someday.

Robin says she will never unban the schoolteacher.

Not never. No way. No how.

I just try to remind her how much she used to hate my fucking guts.

“Forgiveness is a great stress reliever, for we receive it in abundance.”

Posted at at November 06, 2017 on Monday, November 6, 2017 by |   | Filed under: ,

What do you dream about?

I was sitting down next to someone in a dream, kicking it and talking about whatever we were talking about.

He wanted to tell me everything that he dreamed about, and it was more or less a normal life with the woman and the house and the two and a half kids and the cars.

He was a nice enough fellow but I was lost in thought as he spoke and I know he could tell that I didn’t relate to anything he was saying.

He stopped talking and I told him it was okay and that hearing about his dreams and what makes him happy makes me happy.

He asked me “What do you dream about?”

I thought about it for a second, thinking, well, this will be awkward.

I started off hesitantly: “I dream that you exist.”

I continued: “And I dream that I exist.”

Posted at at October 19, 2017 on Thursday, October 19, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Paw

I had a dream that Tommy (one of our moderators who passed away unexpectedly on Friday) had left a scrapbook behind.

I went to retrieve it.

It was a big scrapbook with a rough red cover and big thick cream colored pages.

I flipped through the pages but I wasn't sure what I was looking at.

Tommy was in the room with me. He explained to me that it was "character development."

Posted at at October 04, 2017 on Wednesday, October 4, 2017 by |   | Filed under: ,

Drink Me

I tried "sober living" in Texas 8 years ago.

Some guy I knew off of LiveJournal had invited me to Texas initially, and he meant well but his houseboy was a flaming hideous cunt and pathological user who thought I was moving in on his mark (one, not interested, two, I can get a job and a place to live with my fucking legs closed, OH, and by the way bitch your album sucks) wasn't having none of me and hey, I don't stay anywhere I'm not welcome unless they're serving coffee in the basement, so after a few weeks of that I politely thanked them for their hospitality and off I went.

I was going from door to door selling AT&T U-Verse and sleeping in my Volvo when I found an ad for "sober" living on Craigslist.

The "sober house" was a little sketchy and the owner was this sleazebag named Otto who claimed to have 21 years clean though word was that he'd been drunk off his ass at several meetings that year. I would sit there listening to him on the phone spouting off different lies with different people, describing himself as the property owner, or the manager, or just as a resident depending on the conversation.

"I am the owner."

"I'll talk to the owner."

"I am the manager."

"I'll talk to the manager."

The guy was a trip.

Then one day, he reconfigured my 10x12' room to accommodate four people, installed bunk beds in the garage, and then started moving people in.

I was like, "I think it's time to go sleep in my Volvo again."

Otto refused to give my security deposit back.

He edited my lease, removed the portion about getting my security deposit back after moving out, and said "this is your new lease."

I said "That isn't how a lease works."

He wouldn't budge, so I started posting ads on Craigslist about the 8 Mexicans living in the garage.

He e-mailed me and taunted me that he didn't care what I was doing and to just go right ahead.

I had $5 to my name and no gas in my Volvo.

I spent my last $5 on a 40-ounce can of Heineken, which I took a sharpie marker and wrote "Drink me, asshole" on.

I drove to the sober house and put it in the mailbox for Otto.

Well. He did drink it.

He left me a drunk ranting voicemail that my $250 was in the mailbox and I'd better come get it before one of the other residents did.

The last I heard, everyone in the house was drinking and doing heroin after that. Just me and one other dude that got the fuck out of there sober.

I've no idea where my last $250 to my name even got me other than from there to here.


Posted at at May 23, 2017 on Tuesday, May 23, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

All or Nothing

I'd heard the backstory about the founder.

She had behavioral problems and she'd been kicked out of every group in town.

So she went off and founded this place. It helps thousands of people every month.

I knew it was her when I saw her.

She had a couple stacks of paper for a staff training exercise.

She started to explain it, and I said "these are hexidecimal color codes."

She lit up.

Each piece of paper was broken up into a grid representing a master code with the hex codes for all 256 shades of grey. In HTML and graphics, colors are represented by a hex code , with #00 00 00 being black at one end and #FF FF FF being white at the other end.

The other stacks of paper contained variations of greys in the 16K color range. (The color range can actually extend into the millions. On older computers/graphics processing hardware, they'd pruned that down to about 256 colors on your screen... over time that became 32,000 colors, then 64,000 colors and so on and so on and so on .. my Mac can display millions of colors with four or five scaled resolution options.)

What's the point of the exercise?

Survivors of abuse and trauma are prone to "black and white" thinking, that is to say, "I like you right up until the point that you do or say something that I don't like."

And then it isn't "I'm upset about this thing you said."

It's "I don't like you anymore."

(Mmmmmmhmmm.)

I watched this sweet old lady describe the exercise.

She's adorable.

I tried to imagine some hateful support group deciding that she was garbage and should be thrown away.

I just loved how she basically said "fuck you" and created all of this.

Posted at at May 11, 2017 on Thursday, May 11, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Kamikaze, eh?

We were on Facetime and I was telling him about some of the volunteer work I do, I was talking about how some of the folks who come in are court-ordered, and they're all mad about it and bitching that it's a bunch of bullshit and they got played, and blah blah blah and I ask them if they'd rather grab a broom and sweep the 101 or, you know, you can always tell the judge fuck off I'd rather be in jail -- right?

I talked about how the "probationers" might not be addicts but they probably have other stuff going on. Legal problems, living in rough neighborhoods, just living the life... and how I was sitting there with a couple of them just kicking it and talking about life. We were cutting up small pieces of paper for a staff training exercise and they were actually enjoying what they were doing so much that I pretended that I didn't know that there was a paper slicer that could have cut all of this paper in about two minutes flat.

I guess after I told him a couple stories about what I was up to lately, he was finally comfortable enough to tell me that he was extremely suicidal the night that I'd met him and that I looked "scary" and that he was just hoping I'd come over and kill him.

"But no, you were really sweet and smart and cool and-"

I just stared at my phone in disbelief.

I guess... that says a lot... about your needs versus my needs...

Posted at at May 10, 2017 on Wednesday, May 10, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Oh well.

The speaker came up to the podium and announced that he'd relapsed on meth for one weekend and caught gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphillis, *and* HPV.

He received a raucous whistling and cheering standing ovation for that.

Only in Los Angeles.

Some guy sat down next to me, grabbed a hold of my hand, and informed me that I'm his boyfriend now.

I shrugged and said "okay."

He leaned in close to me and whispered "smoking crack is like getting hit by a bus!"

I burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, the speaker had just said that his uncle passed away.

It looked like I was laughing uncontrollably at that.

Oh well, nobody likes me anyway.

Posted at at April 23, 2017 on Sunday, April 23, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

America the Beautiful, the Horrible, the Amazing, the Tragic.

I was minding my own business and swigging my beer on a rooftop deck on W 28th St when I was cornered by the Jersey Twins.

They were both really cute, they had me feeling a little insecure.

We’re talking and getting to know each other.

I’m asked what I do for fun.

I explained that I was roaming around America with a backpack and taking it all in.

I don’t think they believed me.

The one on my left sneered and asked “And how is America? Is it beautiful?”

His friend, who I favored more: “Is it horrible?”

From my left: “Is it amazing?”

His friend: “Is it tragic?”

I didn’t have a good answer for that.

But I was living for how these two bitchy manicured cosmo sipping queens from Jersey were trying to make fun of me ... or flirt with me ... or perhaps both... and in the process had managed to accidentally sum up the human condition from the roof of the NYC Eagle.

They had just made my night!

I thought about the question.

I grinned and simply replied “yes.”

I took my beer over to the edge of the roof and sat down alone wishing that Donald Trump would lose the election, stay in New York City, and build a Great Big Beautiful Wall to keep New Jersey out instead.

Posted at at October 26, 2016 on Wednesday, October 26, 2016 by |   | Filed under:

100 stories about leaving Chicago

Whenever I look down at the ground racing below me, I'd be well advised to remember that I only got this job in the first place because some recruiter ended up getting my number mixed up with some other candidate and calling me on accident.


I was heading south on the outer drive and Res ("They Say Vision") came up on the radio. Steve used to always play a Robbie Rivera mix of that track and he'd just gone off to prison for dealing again.

I'd just warned him: Dude. You have got to get out of the game because you have a gigantic neon sign over your head that says "Arrest me."

Be he said he's "got this."

He wasn't going to slip up this time. 

It was cold outside but it was sunny and beautiful.

I shook my head and I thought "Thank god you're not on that horrible fucking drug."

I was on US-41, right next to Soldier Field. Where I'm still banned for life. The phone rang. It was a call from Tina Clark.

Tina sounded a little manic. She said she was airjamming a pretend guitar in her office to Metallica's "Master of Puppets" while she looked for a Puppet Master.

I was ostensibly leaving for Texas on vacation that morning, but I had despaired at the thought of returning and I honestly had half a mind not to. I wasn't sure but I had some time to think about it and perhaps begrudgingly make the right choice to turn those wheels back north towards February, the looming cloud of my boss's halotosis, and an alarm clock set for 5:15am.

I wasn't actively looking for another job. I didn't even have a resume posted anywhere. But I had a feeling that I was about to say adios to the doublemint twins and the stock exchange after all.

Before I was doing stadiums or chatrooms, I was staring at > 250,000 transactions per second and porting all the stuff that starts and stops the CBOE every day from Linux to Solaris.

I did what I was hired for and stayed until it was completed. The migration and the move from Chicago to New York was successful. They had offered me permanent work and I didn't want it. I loved it there but I have sleep apnea like a motherfucker and it was all I could do to show up on time every day and finish the scope of work I'd promised to and crawl across the finish line.

"Well, I'm really beginner to intermediate with that and I only learned it under duress. I was kind of forced to learn it so how about a Puppet Slave instead?"

"That's closer than I've gotten all day!"

Before that phone call was over, she was like "OK fuck that other guy, we're submitting you instead!"

"All this time I've spent looking for a Puppet Master, and I should have been looking for a Puppet Slave..."

Tina ended up placing me at eBay and Cisco. I literally owe everything else ... from that point forward ... to a recruiter calling me on "accident."

Posted at at October 13, 2016 on Thursday, October 13, 2016 by |   | Filed under:

A dirty bottle washes ashore ...

A dirty bottle washes ashore:

It says "Help me, I'm in over my head."


Help me, 


Help me, 

Help me get to heaven and back again.

Posted at at July 09, 2016 on Saturday, July 9, 2016 by |   | Filed under:

Texas

It's only by a profound fucking act of divine grace or mercy that you haven't died alone in one of those hospital rooms just like the way you lived your life.

And you got to feel the sun shine on your face a few more times instead of being wheeled out of there under a sheet.

Just like all those other times you never should have made it through the night.

Unless that's actually happened and the universe simply doesn't have the heart to let me know that I didn't make it after all.

Do we just keep forking off into alternate realities where we did and didn't, until we accept it?

The worst time I had was convulsing in that jail cell.

My eyes were rolling in the back of my head when they fingerprinted me.

I'd thought I'd died at some point in an observation cell that morning.

But I heard the meeting bell from my home group clanging and it roused me.

Nothing else had worked, but somebody had thought to bring it to me and ring the god damned thing over and over and over again to wake me up.

And you were there, and you were there, and you were there.

Daniel was holding me and crying and saying you dumb fuck, you scared me, don't ever do that to me again.

But it was just a dream.

I came to in a puddle of snot and tears and puke and an incredible amount of pain. It was still just a cell and they were all gone.

I was incredibly cold and the magistrate was asking if I knew where I was.

Posted at at June 10, 2013 on Monday, June 10, 2013 by |   | Filed under: