Tempests Follow

  I think it's kind of funny that even online I see and use my introverted tendencies. Go out there amongst the big bad world, then let my sensitivities chase me back into my hole, my home.   Well this is it, the place where the shadow of the projectionist shows on the moving pictures of life. That is this curse, to see the edges of the grains and to play with their substances. I also have noticed in my last trip out there that all my words put together sound just the same. People are saying great things about my writing and that excites and scares the hell out of me. Whoa? Hold on, this mental mediation that happens is called writing? I thought it was just my minds speaking amongst themselves? They want more of it? Now who's nuts, me or them? Because something isn't right with this picture. Don't they know who I am?   I wrote a piece on Yabberz last week. In it I typed the words "I am a writer" to begin a paragraph. It was 4:30 am and I had been up for over...

 There is a vividness and color, a pace and a graininess to those pictures from my past. The comforting roll of an 8mm film, and the Wagoneer station wagon. A.M. radio over a mono speaker, and the sound of Paul Harvey wishing us all a Good Day. The look of things completely different, and I realize now it was largely because I was always looking up at things, at people.   The years pile up and the pictures of life include the sounds and words and emotions of life. The first painting you fell in love with, or rock band you made yourself a fan of. It may have been inspired by someone else, or your first real reach at individuality. The pictures get more vivid, their colors a little sharper, and more numerous. They are not always filled with "The Wonder Years" perfection, or the "Little House on the Prairie" wholesomeness. There are times that are grand and joyful sure, but there are times of monsters and demons that many still carry to this day.  Paint a picture, t...

I guess I was not qualified to be a trustee of the club. Oh well, I knew something would come up as I tried to get going again. I really have to look for other groups and activities. These folks just don't want me around and that much is so obvious it hurts. But, oh well, move on.

 I guess I do not convey myself, or my meanings all too well. From jokes to assertions I sometimes have the worst luck in trying to convey something funny or important. I am learning more and more that in the public spaces I just have to be a mute for the most part. Just go along with the flow and don't make any waves and bury myself in the conformity of it all. The strange thing is that everyone tells me the best thing to do is just be yourself, but when myself comes out they want me to put it away again. Oh well, life is quiet, life is good, just sit still and do as you should. Prisons again...

Four Years today, one clap applause. Thanks for celebrating with me.

  I know what my previous post said, I wrote it. I may have to re-evaluate everything after the events of Sunday morning though.   In my meditations and prayers I am trying to find what my higher power is trying to tell me. I think that is a pretty common endeavor enough. I believe he sent a hammer this time to drive the point through to me. He sent it through my oldest friend on this planet, and it is scaring me to my very core.    Throughout my life I have had a "best friend" his name is Mike. I met him when we were just kids about two or three, I just remember him always being there. He had two brothers and I had all of my family, but since my brothers were so much older he was kind of like one too. Mike was always the kid that did the exciting stuff, his dad had guns, they scuba dived, they had boats. Now they were not well off in any manner, they just did this stuff. He was the tough kid and I was the big kid, so we kind of meshed together well. We were in cub...

  Well apparently my AA days are over. It is just not going to work out for me with that group of folks. They all mean well but could care less really, I am not a producer, I talk funny and have emotions.   I went to a meeting today and was in an absolutely great mood. Saw friends and said hi kind of smiling along the way. When it came time for announcements of annual sobriety "birthdays" I said I would have four years on the 23rd. There were a few one year old's and Mike with 11 running the meeting. When it came time to share he began with the one year old'd, cool, that was supposed to happen, getting a year is a big deal. When I was systematically not picked after that, I got a bit upset. No, I was pissed off, not another fucking year of this crap happening!   My first birthday was spent at home away from everyone else. I had just been elected president of the meeting hall that we ran out of. A separate non-profit organization that had no idea what that meant. Peo...

  At times my observances and whatnot of the way things are take on great analogies, I think my learning depends on them. There has always been word of the Tree of Life, that analogy fitting in perfectly with what any higher power that I would accept would define it.   As part of that analogy, I look at my life very much like a tree, that one is not new either. There is talk of roots and growth in most speech about self. This is one aspect about recovery that a pattern has developed in my experience and that of some of those around me.   I was debilitated during my early recovery from a blown out disc in my back. I was unable to work and having to go through the processes for the courts aggravated it further. Getting a little better after some time, I developed a gastrointestinal nightmare along the way which caused me to lose a quarter of my weight and a third of my muscle mass. 210 to 150 in a matter of a few months is not good. This set me back another year or so and...

  By this time each election year I am usually knee deep into a dozen discussions. I am taking a different approach this time around and it is paying dividends.   I am not jumping on anyone's bandwagon and I am not fighting for anything. I am a witness this time around and it is very informative. Since I am one to wants to know the big picture, what it all means, who are we? I like to write about the stuff that makes the fabric of America what it is, and I have seemingly had the wool pulled over my eyes by many.  Everything from bigots to feminists are surprising with their tactics, the choice between a political and a militaristic revolution is upon us. The division created by everyone moving in with their neighbors on these small screens carried over to the big screen and now life. Not only do we despise you, we can now say it loudly and forcibly to create outrage. Yes, the red and the blue were fine when it was kept to closed doors, but the stench of the rotted apple...

 Sometimes you don't have to meet someone for them to have a definite impact on your life. There are many examples of that in history and the world today. The thing that I am experiencing more now in my life is the intangibility of that inspiration, and the places where it comes from. I have, in my willingness been inspired by those I would have never even listened to before. From an 82 year old God fearing woman to the 17 year old punk kid.  There are of course those that inspire you with their story. It is right there that I find it funny in a cool and weird way that Marshawn Lynch and his story would inspire someone like me.   I am just an average white guy from Seattle, I have not lived even a sliver of the life that he has. Yet, as his history and his present combined in front of these eyes, I found kinship somehow. No, I could not understand much of the lifestyle and other things that made the man. I could not understand the behavior, or the antics at time...