09/01 Direct Link

The time spent with Jason, and the pleasure in watching him flower, showing the fine young man that was under that harsh, east-side, street-tough drug addict exterior.

That just wasn't him.

Though if you met him then it was him – he really did live the life.  It was not a pose.

If you put him in a long-sleeve (have to be long-sleeve to cover the trashy tattoos) button-down shirt, he could work in any bank, any office, an accountant, anywhere else.  He just doesn't carry that damaged look anymore; it's great to see.

I really love this kid; a citizen.
09/02 Direct Link

The moon so pretty, hanging as it is low in the southern sky, not quite half full, not yellow and not orange either, like a pale yellow except it's warmer than I'd think of when I say pale yellow.  Is there a way for something to be pale yellow yet be warm?  Rich pale yellow?  That's the closest I can come.  I admired it as I walked in from the boat dock, admired it and wondered how I'd describe to you it's color, I wonder if you're watching it, are you moved by it, whoever it is reading these words.
09/03 Direct Link

We meet, talk it out; he lays it out honest as he can.  He doesn't spare himself – if he sees it, he calls it.

Scott is serious.

He's willing to do the work to get the peace.

I've sponsored guys I've had to wrestle with – total bullshit.

My job isn't to wrestle with them; my job is to be there – observant, awake – as they wrestle with their demons, their ego, their personalities.

It's a benefit of staying clean/sober long term; I get to sponsor men willing to walk toward the fire, into the heat, which – usually – implies considerable clean time.
09/04 Direct Link

It's beautiful, half-full, first quarter, when first I looked at it tonight fair' high in the southern sky, pale, not white but paled, but now, three hours on, I saw it as I drove, lying low in the southwestern sky – it is beautiful, it is warm and rich, I feel warm and rich inside for having seen it, and watched; it sank yellower then yellower still, and gone.  Always I've noticed the moon but Ashtanga has forced awareness; I observe closely the moon in its cycles as we spin 'round the sun, this thing in its beauty moving through Time.
09/05 Direct Link

Patrick called me, late afternoon – do I want to go to a movie tonight?  He named two he was into; I went online, checked them out, we went and saw Point Blank, a French action shoot-em-up, run-em-down, good cop/bad cop, good crook/bad crook movie which before it was half over evolved into a buddy movie.  Total adrenaline, absolutely ridiculous, completely unlikely IE impossible – you'll laugh at parts that aren't supposed to be funny but they are because it's so lame –  but it moves so fast and is so well done that it can be overlooked, for the most part.  Fun!

09/06 Direct Link

I'm really annoyed – this same thing happened here last month, I've entered in days of hundreds and they are gone.  So far only this one day but who knows how long this is going to go on?

Which tells me, yet again, how important this thing is to me, these hundreds.  And I put a lot into them, not every day but some days.

I'm going to have to find a place to store them, aside from this site, send them to myself every night in email.  That'll work, at least until my email server goes down.

Damnit all....

09/07 Direct Link

I was changing out shocks on my truck, here's Tim: clearly homeless, his face burnt way-red, that red that only comes from way too much sun; life on the street.

He lives behind the parts store, under a live-oak tree, back where I work on my trucks. 

The shocks installed, we sat in the sunset, talking.  And damned if Tim isn't crying, damned if he doesn't start crying, I'm all “What?  What?”  Turns out his woman had just waved him goodbye.

The penthouse or under the live-oak; it hurts when your woman leaves.

He's a stray.  Lost.

I'm so lucky.
09/08 Direct Link

I'm a whore in that I enjoy when others like what I've written...

Ah, okay, here it is – not that I'll so much lie as that it feels so good when others give The MetaFilter Politically Correct Seal Of Approval.  It's important to me that I get that approval, MeFi being The Big Leagues; if I fuck up there – and I have – it's a humbling experience.

I guess the whore piece is when I don't write what I would, I keep muzzled words and ideas and ideals which, even if I believe them correct, would go against the prevailing winds.
09/09 Direct Link

4:30pm.  Josh.

One year clean and sober, he's playing little games, dangerous games, seems to me.  I tried to impress that upon him, how the littlest things can send addicts off, back into deep shit.

He's an addict, thus a slippery character.

He's been in 30 rehabs.

He's felt bad about that – not I.  My take on it:  He needed each and every minute of each and every one of those rehabs.  I tell him I'm proud of him, takes jam to live what he's lived through.

Today is his 34th birthday.

He's on a good path, just got to be aware.
09/10 Direct Link

There's days I get so sick of myself I can scarce believe. 


Is it worth it, to have stopped the things I've stopped doing, yet live a life this limited, this broken? 

Is it worth it?

I've been given my life back, this is my second go-round – am I making it worth the time, worth the effort given, the care?

Sometimes I say absolutely, no doubt, that life is beautiful, limited or not, and in fact there's times I don't see my life as much limited.

Today?  Limited.  Worthless?  No, I can help others, and do.

A dark day.
09/11 Direct Link

Don't think of kissing her, don't think even of kissing her hand, her eyes on yours, going soft, slowly closing. You must not allow yourself to consider the sensation of your arms 'round her shoulders, your hands resting gently on her upper back, absolutely do not think about taking her shoulders in your hands and gently, softly pulling her toward you, into you, her lip tremoring just the littlest bit as you softly bite into a sweet, delectable kiss, her softly moaning as you release her a little, just a little "Oh god, oh god – this is just what "
09/12 Direct Link

I ate red meat, went to that Brazilian steak-house with Mike; all the meat you can eat, expertly prepared – gawd. 

It was great. 

The also have chicken, pork, and lamb, I'm sure it's all great but I'm not there to eat a fucking bird or Mary's little lamb, I'm there to shove pieces cut from dead cows into my head.

My first time there, won't be my last.

Aside from canned fish – salmon, sardines, some tuna – my preference is vegetarian, because animals are treated horribly, vilely.

Maybe I won't go back.  It's not fair, for sure.

But it was good.
09/13 Direct Link

What does my life look like to the outsider?

Not good.

I'm just so stuck, and have been so stuck so long.

I get bits and pieces of various happinesses, in fact some pieces larger than bits and pieces – the best maybe the guys I get to sponsor.  Without that – what?

An honor to be in their lives.

But – what about my life?  Such chaos, such disorder.  Calamitous, truly.

Wait a minute – my yoga practice.  That's huge.

I read.  I practice; that's very strong now.  I write, but not enough.  If I was painting, I'd call it enough.

09/14 Direct Link

I'm just in the door from an ACOA meeting – Adult Children Of Alcoholics. It could easily be Adult Children Of Crazymaking Families; though there are some specifics that apply only to alcoholism – alcoholics can truly be bizarre due specifically to their alcoholism – most of the patterns apply to all families that are bent, damaged in shipping.

Neither one of my parents drank, but my father had these unbelievably intense rages – no way to diagnose manic depression, there's no genetic marker for it even today, damn sure not then, but you can absolutely see patterns, and he fit lots of them.
09/15 Direct Link

I paid my mortgage this morning.  I am -so- lucky to have bought this place, lo those long years gone by.  The best thing I ever did, comes to money.

All those retirement accounts – every one of them, eaten to nothing.  I will never forget watching one of them, 2001-2002, it just fell to nothing, it was like arterial bleeding. 

I left it in so as to not get penalized, early withdrawal; I should have jerked every fucking dime.  By the time I did, most of it was gone.  Thousands and thousands of dollars.


I'm not good with money.
09/16 Direct Link

He's a fine young man, one of the best looking men in Austin, he's got that tentative smile, half-broken, he'll look right at you, brave, but then look down, he's the kind of man that women just love to shove between their tits, snug him in there, hold his broad shoulders, kiss on his head, sigh with happy.

All four of the guys I'm sponsoring are great looking, and kindof dangerous, just to fuck with things I should send the four of them to a meeting packed with young gals, or gay guys, watch them all shiver, shake, quiver, moan...
09/17 Direct Link

I love that drive, Congress Avenue northbound, 9:00PM–2:00AM, looking down the hill, into downtown from SoCo.  It's one of my favorite sights, in Austin or anywhere else.

It's best on weekends, absolutely peaks with the winter solstice holiday, the holiday lights adding to.

I get over in the right lane, I let everyone get around me, away from me, I drive slowly, motor almost idling.

See with me the lights laid out before us, and red/amber taillights streaming away on the right side, yellow/white headlights streaming toward on the left side, and traffic signals, streetlights, my heart so happy, beauty.

09/18 Direct Link

The time with Mike – I so take this piece in my life for granted but I     should not; being in these mens lives at the depth I am, it's a great thing.  I love these young men I sponsor.  An honor.

And then meeting with my sponsor, we sat together, watched the late afternoon disappear as the people walked past; we talked it all out.

Then yoga, then, WAY LATER, a ride in my truck, ended up in friggin' Walmart @ 3:00AM.  Ran into Arlen, always good to see him; a good guy.

And now – home, bed, soon to sleep.
09/19 Direct Link

I met with that Meet-Up group to support one another in The Artists Way, wherein we would/perhaps will meet for 12 weeks in this process.  Out of 21 who'd committed to show, seven of us did so, and one of those very tentative.

We met at a loud coffee shop – too loud for me for this group to fill any purpose; I lost at least one third of the conversation.  We'll try to find other meeting places; I've already checked libraries, and Dougherty Art Center – no luck.

It's a good group, interesting people.  I hope we can make it work.
09/20 Direct Link

I AM SO ANNOYED.  How is it that *YOU* get to see Patty Griffin play in a small joint but *I* don't?  NOT FAIR.

I don't give a rats ass about Robert Plant. Wooooo-weeeee, Robert fucking Plant.  Big fucking deal.  The guy's close to death, staggering around, gasping and gaseous and goofy.

But Patty Griffin. Patty fucking Griffin.  She is one of the true treasures of the US, such a gift to have her in Austin, even knowing she lives here, my heart is happier.  Sometimes I go around town kissing the sidewalks because she may have walked on them..
09/21 Direct Link

His brother, last night, in a drug deal gone south – the guy had a pistol aimed at him, he -attacks- the guy, ends up shot in the leg, the bullet lodged in his femur. 

Examined at the hospital, then -walked out- (actually he rolled out, wheelchair, by his girlfriend.)  The cops'd had a warrant on him, used this as a reminder to use it; they found heroin, paraphernalia, a pistol.  He's an ex-con, doesn't want to go back to prison. 

He's out there tonight, a bullet in his leg, immobilized, hurting, bleeding, scared, and kicking, cold turkey.

Pray for him.
09/22 Direct Link

I can feel his anger burning down that line, almost certainly his contempt – he's surely shares his contempt of others to me.

I'm not fool enough to think he doesn't hold me in contempt.

I damn sure do.

He's pressing me, holding me to what I said, come visit Mom on her birthday, three weeks out.

I cannot see my way free.

I've never been this stuck.

I'm losing people one after the other, I feel I've fallen overboard and watching the ship pull away.

I don't know what to do.

Who would come through if I needed help now?
09/23 Direct Link

Therapy.  First time in a year, long overdue.  Julie is great, we've already headed right back in, some of the same things.  (Duh.  Of COURSE.)

Josh.  His brother with a bullet in his leg, Josh walking one foot in front of the next, getting through his days.  A strong man, a good man.

Took the pickup to get inspected, met Matt, nice guy, spent years in the Marines – Iraq, Afghanistan.  A horror show over there, a nightmare.  Matt seems balanced, regardless what he's seen and done.

And – mail messed up, delivery person thinks this unit vacant; he could have asked.
09/24 Direct Link

Scott.  Smiling as I key this in, I care about him, he's quite easy to sponsor.  We spoke some about the river, flowing to his door, how easy it is to become complacent, thinking perhaps that river will always run his way.  Might.  Might not.  Complacency the danger, just be alert.

Mike.  NYC early tomorrow, surgery Tuesday morning, he's scared, pissed some also, as I surely am, also; I mean, come *on* life, lymphoma and now Crohns?  Fucking *Crohns*? Damnit. I insisted, the horror show is over, all downhill now, just get cut and sewed once more, snicker-snack, all better.
09/25 Direct Link


Such a fine man – such a fine man!

I pour the love out, hard as I can, and it's not for me – though of course I get back way more than I try to give, that crazy 12-step arithmetic – and it's got to be given open-handed.  No strings.

No games, no pretense, no bullshit – he opens, tells it true.  Twelve years clean/sober, but time isn't it of course, it's a variable but not the whole story. 

Sometimes the variable figures large.

He's hit that freedom, and what could be better than having a front-row seat at the show? 
09/26 Direct Link

Almost a nothing doing day.  Up til past dawn – unreal, I had no idea it was so late, looked up, saw 4:30AM, couldn't believe it – where had the hours gone?

No telling where, but they were gone.  ZAM !!!

3:18AM as I key this in but I know where the hours went – big letter to Mom.  Ten pages, but that's with large font; probably a six page letter.  Which still is a letter, for sure.

Wrote about food, my truck, my Ashtanga practice, my diet, my AA commitments – the important things in my life.

Good letter.

It's in the mail.

09/27 Direct Link

So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
So – what's big in my day today?  Not a thing.
09/28 Direct Link

I reached across my body – the same movement you'd use to wash your left armpit with your right hand – and I don't even remember why I reached across, but – no pain. 


Not even a little. 

So I reached further, far as I could – no pain. 

Then I reached behind my back, which has been a total fucker for me, since this shit kicked off – no pain.


I tried whatever I could – no pain.

Is this fucker finally behind me?

Can that be?

A little sore, now, after my practice, but it's as nothing compared to what I've had.
09/29 Direct Link

I spoke to them through their open doorway, and not kindly, after Emily and I together asked them to close it.  Having to deal with this couple, the stone in my shoe of living here, so very annoying.  And I know this is small, compared to what others are putting up with tonight, somewhere – loud neighbors, violent neighbors, dangerous neighbors.

But the fact is that Richard -is- dangerous, if you happen to be a woman; that fact keeps getting shoved to the back; oh yeah, we're supposed to be nice, blah blah blah. 

Fuck nice.  Nice clearly has not worked.
09/30 Direct Link

Jason:  I'm so goddamn proud of this kid.  36 on Sunday.  I love this man.

Josh:  He's done the work, standing tall; he's got the jam.  I love this man.

T_____:  A fine man.  Drinking again.  Drugging.  Scared.  He should be.  Wonder if I'll sponsor him someday.

Erika:  Superstar!  Of -course- they promoted her into that slot.  And she can't see herself clearly.  I told her she's great.  She -is-.  Tiny, bitty nurse, hugs tighter than pliers.

Double-L Allison:  New kid on the block, seems a sweetie. 

Outsiders just can't see what we do, or why.  It's perfectly clear to us.