read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

09/01 Direct Link

Hello J_____ –

Back yet again to that dang photo.  I just don't see Rick in Grace, not in this image anyways, but tonight, as I glanced at the image while opening up a word processor, I saw YOU, Ma'am – your eyes, your smile, etc and etc.  She's a lucky girl, in that.

Anyways....

Hey, here's a pretty good online real-time hurricane tracker, if you are following that hurricane in the gulf – Gustav

Nothing much else to report, writing mostly to tell you I just saw you in your granddaughters smile.

I hope that this finds you well.

Peace.

dances

09/02 Direct Link

My point?  Be Careful!  And mind what these people here are saying -- it's not if you go down, it's when, unless you are very, very lucky.  People either don't see you or don't care, there is a learning curve wherein you learn to drive hyper-defensively but no matter how defensively you drive a dog can run into the street or a deer or you can hit a hole or whatever.  Bikes are a blast but not too many people who work in emergency rooms ride them, if you catch my drift.
posted by dancestoblue at 5:15 PM September 2

09/03 Direct Link

Fuck, I've already written this once and over-wrote the son of a bitch with software stupidity, I don't know how to 'roll back' using this software and now I'm fuct.

It was a shitty day anyways.  This is more of the same.  A shitty last night followed by a shitty day and now that trend continuing, on and on, perhaps on into perpetuity.

Fuck.

Out of therapy.  Showed her too much, maybe, I don't know.  I know I'm stinging.

Missed my AA commitment at noon today, slept through it, and it's important to me.  Fuck.  Another fuckup.

Now – bedtime.

09/04 Direct Link

A rough day.

I'm feeling my way.  Really stinging, the end of that psychotherapeutic relationship – I show up one day out of sorts and I'm shoved out the door.

I did agree.

I know that what I was looking for is not what that organization is about.  Still, it was a fast shuffle.

And here I am, coming into a dangerous time of year, my time to fly, Mixed States.  Scary.

I didn't see this coming.

Julie welcomed it; I'm off her rolls.

I'm going to cancel future appointments.

Look somewhere else?  Or not.  I don't know.

Let it breathe.

09/05 Direct Link

My 'missed' day.  I'm writing these words as I enter Septembers words, October 8th 12:35am.  Yet again, I've waited until the last minute, actually way past the last minute.

Thank god they (admins here at 100 words) have a lax policy about entering the months words.

And even at that, there've been many months that I've written and not posted, which I really do find annoying, makes me sortof want to choke myself.

Hang on, I'll be right back, I'm going to go choke myself.

-------------------------

Okay, I'm back.  That was swell and stuff, but probably not something I'll do often...

09/06 Direct Link

I don't think I even opened the door to this condo today.  I'd intended to, a time or two, but didn't.

Very sore from yesterdays yoga, stiff and sore.  So I moped around here, scratching myself, online some, reading some, watched part of a movie.

A low impact day.

I ate pretty good – rice and beans, some eggs (one yolk, six whites), a smoothie with orange juice and carrots and spinach and flax seeds and coconut oil – really good stuff.

So, nothing accomplished.  Another day ripped off the calendar and dropped into the bin.  The worst is no painting.  Sucks.

09/07 Direct Link

I was dead a long time, at least 8 minutes without oxygen, usually not a good plan for my brain, not what I intended to do that day, etc. Heart attack took me out. I not only had physical therapy -- I was weak as a wet kitten -- but also 'speech therapy' which is way, way more than about just speech, it's about cognitive functions of many descriptions. I was initially scheduled for six sessions.

Lots of plain old logic -- here's a box, a triangle, a circle, a box, a triangle, and ______ where I'm to fill in what should logically follow.

09/08 Direct Link

I was dead a long time, at least 8 minutes without oxygen, usually not a good plan for my brain, not what I intended to do that day, etc. Heart attack took me out. I not only had physical therapy -- I was weak as a wet kitten -- but also 'speech therapy' which is way, way more than about just speech, it's about cognitive functions of many descriptions. I was initially scheduled for six sessions.

Lots of plain old logic -- here's a box, a triangle, a circle, a box, a triangle, and ______ where I'm to fill in what should logically follow.

09/09 Direct Link

No sleep last night.  None.  Zip.  Nada.

I finally gave it up around four-thirty, maybe five am, figured “Fuck it, I'll just stay up and go practice” and that's what I did, and had a pretty good practice.  Then home, some breakfast, some sleep, woke to go to Bouldin nooner, looked in the mirror – no way I'm going anywhere.  I looked tired, which I was, big dark circles under my eyes; I headed back to bed.

Dinner, out at Zen, ice cream at Amy's, took a call from Mikey, canceled out our sponsor/sponsee meeting, now to bed.

Gnight.

09/10 Direct Link

I don't know that I'd call her beautiful.  Attractive – oh, yeah.  Hot?  Goddamn right she's hot, she's smokin' hot.

Gawd.

Lovely?  Not sure on that.  I don't know her well enough to determine 'lovely' or not; seems to me that lovely encompasses more than looks.

I don't know her, hardly at all.  Maybe she's into, like, astrology, or fundy christianity, or fundy anything; people can be dogmatic about most anything, and perhaps she is.

No telling.

Only time.

Meanwhile, flirtation, eyes meeting eyes, hearts jumping.

She seems strong, perhaps sound.

I've been thinking about her since I saw her today.

K________ F_____.

09/11 Direct Link

“Is the glass half-empty or half-full?”

That's not the question.  That fucking glass is full, it's flooding out the top, overflowing, ongoing, all the dang time.

This thing is so beautiful.

That said, yeah, there's areas in my life that are a horror show, an ongoing train wreck, and luggage flying everywhere, and people busted apart and howling and thrown about, rail cars hurtling through the air, etc and etc.  

It's not pretty.  But I don't know that it has anything to do with some dang metaphorical glass of water.

Separate issues.

Or so it seems to me.

09/12 Direct Link

I wrote about schizophrenia late last night, at length and in depth.  I posted it on my fave web community page and it's gotten raves, it got put onto the front page, tons of responses.

Cool.

It's sortof surprising to me how different it is writing on that web site, rather than just writing it and posting it wherever, or not at all; I really respect many of the people in that online community, and to get an overall thumbs up there is, well, it feels pretty damn good.

So I've been pretty gassed about that, today.

A fun day.

09/13 Direct Link

Probably the best thing about my vision failing is the experience of driving toward town on Congress Avenue on a Friday or Saturday night; it's downhill all the way to the capital, and as I look down that long stretch of road, the lights of the city and all the cars streaming both ways on the avenue are truly a beautiful site, and one that I suspect would not be quite as nice were my vision crystalline clear – the blur turns it into an Impressionist drive, I'm coming home from dinner, driving into Impressionist Austin, and it's so goddamned beautiful.

09/14 Direct Link

I saw more pretty women today than any day in seventeen years; flocks of them, hordes of them, packs, droves, and plenty of loners, sailing past my beady, greazy gaze.  And I'm not talking one gal here with nice legs; another gal there with a pretty face; oh god, look at her fucking ass!; jesus christ, look at the rack on that broad! – no, I'm talking about beauties who have it all, thousands of them, millions, probably, firm flesh, tanned flesh, beautiful flesh, every shade, slutty blouses, lovely eyes, sultry gazes, gently smiling at life, perfect women, everywhere, Austin overrun.

09/15 Direct Link

The overnight pharmacist is one of the darlingest women in Austin, bright as a button, sharp as a razor, blazing like the sun at noon in July, smart as Mozart.  She's about eleven inches tall, she's got these bitty hands and feet, like a dolls, almost, and pretty brown hair which she wears up, like a librarian; tonight one strand came loose, I wanted to kiss it, and her neck, and her.  She wears huge, thick-lens black-framed glasses (you could put windshield wipers on them), she dresses so cool; she's as South Austin as a gal can get.

09/16 Direct Link

A slow start.  Painfully slow.  Stretching, scratching, drool on the pillow, or so I would guess.

Then out – coffee, and ice, then yoga, new tags for the pickup.

Then to the hospital, visiting Jason, Arianne, Gabby – a beautiful family.  I don't have a family but I live it through these wonderful people.

I love them.

The family left, Jason and I talking in the gloaming, as we will, wandering about, here, there, hither, yon, and the light softened and goldened and reddened and then went to dusk, the room dimmed down, then darkened, our conversation concluded, restful, contented, peaceful, happy.

09/17 Direct Link

So this guy was bullshitting me a couple of weeks ago, now he wants to make it my fault that I'm no longer sponsoring him, he was fixing to go into this long diatribe and I just cut him off, I don't need or want his jive, he went long even when I was trying to be in a role to help him, goddamned if I'm going to waste time listening to him puff up and moan.  In short:  Get fuct.  And then he calls, leaves a voicemail, all heavy intonation, frowny-voiced, “I really want to talk” bullshit.  Jesus.

09/18 Direct Link

I fell off my bike yesterday, complete foolishness, I was on a sidewalk for christ sake, no reason at all to go down.  But I was tired, and left-footed, and next thing I know I'm tumbling down.

One of the best things from all those years in construction is that I know how to fall well.  Even once it's set into motion, I am able to see, amazingly fast, where to put my feet, how to go down with the least damage.

I tore skin on one hand, one leg, and sore all over today, jarred.  Yoga was hell.

09/19 Direct Link

One of my all-time favorite movies is Danton with Gérard Depardieu in the lead role, at his peak, a more alive man did not exist; he just explodes off the screen, pure balls, pure charisma.  What a role.  What a performance.  God.

It's not released on DVD; I rented a very old, very shitty, very jumpy VHS, copied to DVD.  It's faded out horribly, the colors totally wacked, so I'm watching it in black and white; it's like watching an old classic at a small university theater, you and about 23 film students, all of them serious and gaseous.  

09/20 Direct Link

Marian and I talked on the boatdock in the sundown hour.

Marian has an almost impossible raw beauty.  It's almost as much her unspoiled look as it is her natural beauty – it doesn't appear as though she's been treated hard in life.

She's as beautiful as spring.

I do know looks can deceive.  But I've got pretty good eyes.  She doesn't look hard and she doesn't look beaten.

Marian.  But pronounced “Mary Ann.”  Perhaps because of our conversation about her name and it's pronunciation, I will recall it upon seeing her next, if ever I do.

I hope I do.

09/21 Direct Link

I am not shy but at this point in time I am damn sure gun-shy around gals and relationships and stuff, I'm as tentative as an accountant at a whorehouse on Mothers Day, I'm about ready to bag it all and start collecting stamps, or maybe small arms, or maybe stamps with pictures of people with small arms and small hands. Whatever. Just about anything other than to get out and get with another gal and start walking down one path or another.

So here comes Myrtle or Griselda, smiling and waving and gesticulating, and I sortof smile and wave

09/22 Direct Link

poetry sucks
I can't stand it
and no,
I don't mean this kind of poetry
if this is poetry
and
I'm going to say it is
so
for all intent and purpose
for the duration of this poem
which is a poem
because I said so
assume that this is
in fact
poetry

I can't stand the other kind
stanzas
rhymes
hidden meanings
blind meanings
dead ends
people so full of themselves
              so full of shit
they write obtuse
                  dense
                  dull
                  lame-assed
                  motherfucking
                  garbage
they call it poetry
they sit together
smug
brown shoes
too much school
they suck

09/23 Direct Link

The best in the day?  Hard to say.

I had lots of fun in the 5:30pm AA meeting at Bouldin.

I wrote and posted a fun response on AskMetaFilter.

I practiced Ashtanga on the boat dock in the gloaming.

I rode my bike all over town, late at night, no cars about – great fun that is.

I met with Mike, one of my favorite guys; I'm lucky to sponsor him.

I spoke with Jason, another great sponsee, and he's headed off on a new path, signed up for school.

I ate well, slept long, thought much about that pretty pharmacist.

09/24 Direct Link

So I write most every day, every day if I'm including these hundreds, but I write a few other words here or there to boot.  These are the requirement though, this is the discipline that keeps on keeping on for me.  This is what's opened the door to words for me.  Such a simple exercise, and anyone can do it, if they would.

Do this every day and you're a writer.

Oh – you think not?  You'll not be a master, probably.  But you'll be a writer – what the fuck is a writer other than a person who writes?

Bed time.

09/25 Direct Link

I just watched a fairly lame vampire flick – “The Hunger” starring Catherine Deneuve, Susan Sarandon, David Bowie.  Interesting, beautiful cinematography, fun sets, fun special effects, simple yet beautiful music.  The movie limped, but also sang.

The beauty of the two female leads absolutely steal the movie – that seduction scene, and the slow, heart-pounding lead-up to that scene – are stunningly beautiful, Sarandon as an innocent opening like a flower, into and under the spell cast upon her by the elegant and very deadly Deneuve.  Very hot.

I think I'm a lesbian.

Why else would I dig this so much?

09/26 Direct Link

That bitty woman is much on my mind.  Ms. Pharmacy.

I like her smile, I like getting her to smile, and getting her to laugh, even getting her to snort in annoyance at my foolishnesses.

I like to watch her extra-smart eyes – she was in all the smart kid classes in high school, I was in all the dumb kid classes – as she looks at me.  Her eyes shine extra-bright, I believe it is the gleam of neurosis, and hope so.

I like to watch her arch her eyebrow when I'm annoying.

I like to watch her hands.

09/27 Direct Link

I just don't know.  About much of anything.  And I'm okay with that, I'm not grieving or whatever, I'm not in agony, but I can definitely talk clearly about a life of quiet desperation.

Ongoing nothing.

And that isn't true – I've a lot of good in my life.  I don't have love and I don't think I'm going to be able to put that together, not over any long term, maybe not over any short term.

Damaged goods.

Damaged in shipping.

Would I want to give me to someone I cared about?

No.  So maybe it's friends, here on out.

09/28 Direct Link

The salient of the day, the pivot around which the day spun?

Maybe the one pm AA meeting at Bouldin, that little pink house at 601 Bouldin.

The room packed, not overflowing but close.

My sponsor walked in the door, so good to see him, I thought he was out of town until late late late tonight.

Lots of laughter in that meeting, so good to see the nice people, to be with my friends, my people.

What outsiders often cannot imagine is the camaraderie we share, the fun that's in it, the spirit of helpfulness, of caring, of love.

09/29 Direct Link

I never did put a needle into my arm but I have and have had lots of friends who were or are junkies and based upon their descriptions and their look of euphoria and buzzed down, drawn out faze, I've always thought that The Cowboy Junkies on a quiet misting urban November four am as I'm painting is the closest approximation I'm going to find to heroin jammed into my arm.

I love The Cowboy Junkies on a quiet misting urban November four am as I'm painting.  They make my heart happy, though blue.

I'm glad I'm not a junkie.  

09/30 Direct Link

Days like today are some of the finest I've ever experienced, anywhere.  And no, I'm not saying my life is all swell or whatever, I'm saying that Austin is one beautiful son of a bitch.

A beautiful day.

Just right; not too cool, not hot, a pleasantly warm day.

The gold which suffuses the air at this time of year just makes it that much nicer.

A dangerous time of year for me – this is when I take off, mania, I've gotten into trouble lots as the light turns golden.

I've got to stay alert.

A beautiful time of year.