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09/01 Direct Link

They danced in the sunshine.

They had not seen one another in over a year. The mother, mid forties, freckled redhead, the daughter maybe sixteen, showing her mother a new step.

Last week, mom was sucking crack pipes, living the hard life of the street. The daughter is a clear eyed innocent, lives with gray haired, wearied grandma, who was also there at the rehab visiting mom.

This family is not out of danger - relapse is possible, perhaps likely.

To see them dance was a joy.

They danced together happily, their eyes alive, big smiles, completely free.

Pray for them.

09/02 Direct Link

They danced in the sunshine.

They had not seen one another in over a year. The mother, mid forties, freckled redhead, the daughter maybe sixteen, showing her mother a new step.

Last week, mom was sucking crack pipes, living the hard life of the street. The daughter is a clear eyed innocent, lives with gray haired, wearied grandma, who was also there at the rehab visiting mom.

This family is not out of danger - relapse is possible, perhaps likely.

To see them dance was a joy.

They danced together happily, their eyes alive, big smiles, completely free.

Pray for them.

09/03 Direct Link

The road narrows; prayer a neccesity.

I did not meditate until damn near sundown today.

Operating on my own power.

I was ready to toss things out the window, burn my condo down, wanted to trade my soul for an old car and then drive the car into the lake.

I don't know why I fight it so; even when I am right in the middle of it, I know that I am suffering due to my refusal to submit to the disipline.

I tapped into the power; immediate peace, sense of well-being, of guidance and direction.

I am stubborn.

09/04 Direct Link

I do not have anything to say and I am not going to take a lot of time to say it. I have messed around here too long and I give up, going to spin out the words til the counter hits one hundred. It is not as though every day must be some great big event and today certainly was not, the best part of it was in the disipline of my practice, where today I found the joy which is elusive and cannot be named. No - wait. Fuck it. I will name it. The joy is named Fred.

09/05 Direct Link

The nights pleasant now, and the days also, at least after seven, the sky a perfect blue, soft clouds, the humidity even dropping a bit.

Another Texas summer draws to a close.

And none too soon.

I loathe summer here. Nothing more depressing. Perhaps if I'm able to get into school I will summer somewhere else, maybe take some classes in France one summer or Iowa, even, anything to get the hell out of Texas in July and August. And May and June, also.

I chose to work this evening but it was a hard choice, the bike beckoning me.

09/06 Direct Link

The fear is the worst of it.

When caught in resentments or anger, there is no ease or peace but there is the illusion of power and strength and might.

In fear, the illusion is that all is crumbling down and no power to be had.

Fear has the biggest liar of them all, the most convincing. It tells the body that it's in danger, and the body reacts accordingly.

It is clear that the only danger is falling for the lie.

It is just thoughts.

Comical.

But I don't find it comical when I allow myself to become ensnared.

09/07 Direct Link

The telling of the tale.

It is good for the person relating their story and for those who listen.

You have to know your subject.

I know mine.

I had a blast, ran it on out there, laughed my ass off. And so did they.

I was as honest and direct as I know how to be, told my truth as best I could. I found my narrative and stuck with it, and while it wandered from place to place it never wobbled, I was completely at ease, relaxed and happy.

It was fun.

I wish you'd have been there.

09/08 Direct Link

Fuck one hundred words. I don't fucking care about it, or anything else right now. Why would I, why should I? What a waste of time and energy this has been, why have I decided to do this, what does it matter and to whom?

Actually, I can answer the three questions: I decided to do it to force myself to write daily. It matters because it is a good disipline and because sometimes I get good words out of it, things I am proud of. And it matters to me, and that is all that counts.

That's one hundred.

09/09 Direct Link

Head in the sand...

My antics in the face of change are comical.

But not funny.

I do not want to give up something I know, even if it is not working, for something which I do not know. I have observed this behavior countless times, understand completely why I do this - I do this because I am neurotic.

Here I am faced with the opportunity of a lifetime, tremendous support from countless friends regardless the direction I decide upon, the freedom to choose to live the life which I want to live.

Change is not easy for me.

09/10 Direct Link

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two. Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six. Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy. Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two. Eighty-three. Eighty-four. Eighty-five. Eighty-six. Eighty-seven. Eighty-eight. Eighty-nine. Ninety. Ninety-one. Ninety-two. Ninety-three. Ninety-four. Ninety-five. Ninety-six. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One _______.

09/11 Direct Link

Tears flowing these years later.

Foolishly, painfully, relentlessly, pathetically, I love her still.

And she of course has moved on, done so quite well, happy in her life and happy in her marriage and happy in her art.

I am the type who gets stuck.

In the cold light of day, the clear view of rationality, it is easy to see that the forces that hold me to this fire are those of remorse, self-abnegation, a dispairing, almost bitter grief, stunned disbelief that our willingness and love could not bridge the gap.

In a word -- denial.

A willful, stupid heart.

09/12 Direct Link

So I stay up all goddamn night downloading shit off the internet even though I have a big day planned tomorrow and I goddamn well intend to participate in it. And will. Four-fifteen as I key these words and up at nine, the day is gonna be rough but I intend to do it.

I stayed offline all day to avoid the hoopla, the media event, no way should I have gotten out here and started downloading, a trap for me. I get all this great music but who gives a fuck, certainly not me.

09/13 Direct Link

They lived fast, ran wild, crashed hard.

After the crash, they pulled the pieces together as best they could and as best they can, shaking hands, twisted vision and twisted visions.

It may be that theirs is the kingdom but it is clear that they are not kings, that they have little personal power in the realm they now inhabit. They have joy nonetheless.

They spoke of it today, how they tap the power which runs the kingdom which is theirs, and how finding that power brings them warmth and happiness. They told why their eyes show bright.

Broken mystics.

09/14 Direct Link

Good often the enemy of best.

I have the answers but I cannot tap them, con myself, think I want things which I don't. I am dishonest; I don't hold to my ideal, I lie to myself.

And thus to others.

Three things to consider when an important decision is to be made.

First: What is my motive?

Second: What is my real motive?

Last: You goddamn liar! What the fuck is REALLY going on? WHAT ARE YOUR MOTIVES?

Friends help me see who I am, help me see the ideal that I want to live to.

I am lucky.

09/15 Direct Link

Goddamn, I hate it when I don't write til late and then am tired and don't want to mess with this. Nights like tonight, times like this. It is frustrating to know that I have spent energy on things of lesser importance to me, squandered time that could have been used wisely, could have been used here. But I didn't use it wisely, I sat like a lump in front of screen downloading shit and reading other shit. I'm such a modern guy - VERY impressive. Fuck. And then I am left writing this dreck, this stupid bullshit which you

09/16 Direct Link

Do I have the courage to face the changes which I am setting into play?

I do not know.

But I am going to find out.

And soon. The moving begins tomorrow, and much stuff to trash also. Let it go. No time for sentiment, an honest appraisal of worth.

I will want help, perhaps need help, which direction to head. All I have to do is ask, many friends will come forward to help in these decisions, how to make my life work well, I am surrounded with competent people who care for me and care about me.

Ask.

09/17 Direct Link

Huge green eyes, urchin hands, lush figure, flush with youth, energy, and joy in our time together, those years gone by.

I saw her today.

She's the best painter I've ever known, the best piece of ass I've ever had, the craziest son of a bitch I've ever hooked up with, and that's saying a lot.

It was an adventure.

I can't recommend it.

I sometimes think we can paint together, maybe tumble into the sack, a few laughs, whatever. Then I remember how it unfolded...

Jesus.

I remembered all this as I touched her arm today.

Pray for me.

09/18 Direct Link

I shall care for them with love and hold them to me at night, I shall wear the pots in which I plant them on my head when going to gala affairs, arranged in a festive manner so that the succulent leaves droop casually, almost sexily about my neck and shoulders, I shall festoon my self in the glory reflected from their having been in your hot little hand, and should any leaves fall from them I shall take the stapler which I have put into my pocket for just such a happenstance and boldly staple them to my chest.

09/19 Direct Link

Tired and beat and I do not want to do this, could care less, I am certain that there is a way that I could care less but I do not know what it might be and I do not want to look for it. All I want to do is go to bed, but nooooooo, I made this stupid goddamn commitment to write EVERY day, whether I want to or not, and then when it gets late and my energy is gone and my thought is shot I have to do it anyhow.

Other than that, I'm well.

09/20 Direct Link

When I sought sincerely, my life began to change dramatically, and fast.

Sincere prayer led to a covenant, though I hardly knew it at the time - interested in surcease of the pain, I didn't read the fine print.

A covenant different from a contract - you buy this ticket, you are going to go where this train goes.

I can ride in relative comfort and ease, a first class seat. Or I can drag, kicking and screaming, bitching and moaning, through the rocks and cactus, the mud and the blood.

It's mostly up to me.

Pain a certainty, suffering a choice.

09/21 Direct Link

I go to friends for support and direction and love.

Family played and plays a huge role, is a large determinant of the person I became. Those relationships loom large, I draw from them, consciously and unconsciously, every day.

But friendships have allowed me to see the person I might be, what potentialities lie hidden, masked by the family crest. In their company I can begin to strip away my lies, can begin to become who I really want to be.

They listen to what I say, they know my dreams, they hold me to my words.

I am lucky.

09/22 Direct Link

I do not know my paint box.

I cannot repeat with certainty, or at all, things which came off the knife three days past.

The pattern won't show, the knife won't move, the colors won't come.

Tonight a farce, a grim joke. But not funny - I want to learn the craft.

The craft could support the freedom.

I wonder if I can have them both.

The lesson from Pluche: It can't be forced, it comes as it will. But his hands knew his paintbox, when it lit upon him he could create it.

Not me. Not yet, maybe not ever.

09/23 Direct Link

The canvas leads.

I have no idea when I set out what I am going to do.

It's none of my business.

The colors that have come have been a complete gift, amazing to me what has come out of my hands, onto paper or canvas - it really does surprise me.

Will learning the craft cost me the art, will my freedom leave?

I don't know.

But I want to learn it, feel compelled to do so.

As a programmer, as a carpenter, rules and variables understood first, then utilized. Then creativity followed, naturally. After craft.

I want the skills.

09/24 Direct Link

Here is my hundred, late night and slow, out of it, just finished what looks to my four am eye to be very, very cool, loaded up with paint on a strip of gessod linen, just fine and pretty and I dont know what all. Except that I like it, at four am.

The letter to Matthew was hard to write.

Talking with Susan a pleasure tonight, such a good friend, and insightful and decent. The fear had snuck up on me but talking with a friend helps me see that it is a fools game to lend it credence.

09/25 Direct Link

Dear Pam -

I woke this morning thinking of you.

That is not unusual.

I miss you.

I wanted to tell you of how desire for you sometimes drives me almost mad, in your nakedness and warmth profess, confess.

I dont think I'm going to get the chance to tell you in person, you're now happy in his arms, that love grown smooth and warm.

And I know our love was never that way nor ever would be.

Still.

Your cautious but willing eyes and vulnerable, tentative soul sound a call, across time and distance.

I long for you.

Old flame,

09/26 Direct Link

It's coming.

My annual nightmare, my yearly travail.

Thanksgiving. My birthday. Christmas. New Years. Valentines Day.

Black and blue, my holiday colors...

One more years fade on my face, heavy miles.

Regardless I do what I can to prepare, some years it's all I can do to hang in til Febrary fifteenth. Then sigh, huge relief.

I don't know if it's from the light changing, the fact that almost every important relationship I've been in has ended this time of year, maybe childhood stuff?

No telling.

The days are growing shorter.

I'm beginning to get nervous.

Joy to the world.

09/27 Direct Link

It's like feeding deer.

Some of them are going to eat right out of my hand.

Some of them are going to take one look and run full out in the other direction.

Some of them are going to try and destroy me, run me into the ground with their hooves, gore me with their antlers.

Some of them are going to stand dead still, totally alert, thirty feet away, look me dead in the eye, watch every move I make.

It's not my business which wants to eat.

My job is to stand, hand outstretched, ready to feed deer.

09/28 Direct Link


The most important thing that happened to me on this fine day is that I got the opportunity to hear a mans story. I admire this guy, really has humility, and has earned it, in the same way that most people who truly have humility have done so - a difficult life. He's lived plenty hard.

Listened to him tell his tale, watched his eyes, which are an honest indication of him, his soul shining clearly, plainly.

People rise and fall, never want to accept help; only those defeated badly know what this man knows well.

It was a great story.

09/29 Direct Link

I ask to be shown the way of patience, tolerance, kindliness, and love.

I ask for clarity.

I ask those around me for help in seeing what I cannot, that which I'm blocked from seeing because I'm too close to it, perhaps because I don't want to be honest, maybe I want to do something which runs counter to my ideals, then rationalize, justify it as being a good thing, the right thing to do.

I ask for guidance, direction, release from the burdens I place upon myself.

I ask for the opportunity to be useful.

I ask for peace.

09/30 Direct Link

Three months.

I am surprised at how important this has become to me.

I like this.

Almost always the last thing I do before bed, both a benefit and a drawback; it's good because I can then clearly see the most important topic of the day, a drawback in that I may be too tired to write clearly or to give a rats ass.

The structure forces clarity.

The dailiness of it grinds, polishes, cleans.

Tomorrow I will add to the disipline - I will paint every day, color on canvas or paper.

I believe that I will keep this commitment.