Alone I sat, in my mentally made cell.
Why was I there, in that self created hell.
Thinking back to school, and my days of dope.
Foot by foot, rolling out the damn rope.
Hallucinogens were my rope, meth my noose.
Heroin in the needle, would have been my cooked goose.
One day in April, in the year ’99,
I awoke, did my prep, and did my last line.
I looked in the mirror, deep into my eyes.
I’m not am addict? Bullshit! No more lies!
I have stomped a mans head, into a curb.
He only mouthed off, something he didn’t deserve.
I broke my glass pipe, and then walked away.
No hospital detox, not even N.A.
17 years, this wagon’s been on this ride.
Not one relapse or slip up, I say this with pride.
For many years I sat, staring at my cell floor.
In the end, it was up to me, to walk out the door.

**17 years ago today I decided to get clean. I hear people browbeat others when they say they have only been clean for one week or one month and it upsets me. The truth is, we all start at day one. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you aren’t good enough, or haven’t been sober long enough to be respected for the amount of time you have been sober. Be proud of your accomplishments, and stick with it. One day you’ll look back at all that time, and your use will be a distant memory.**

  I had gone shopping for a few things today, and stopped by the gas station on my way back. I walked in like normal and stood in line. There was a long line and a woman standing off to the side leaning on the counter looking sad. As I got closer, the clerk asked her, “Are you going to be alright hon?”
  The lady said nothing and shook her head no. The clerk spoke to another customer saying that the lady had just told her that she was about to have a seizure. Then she told the lady to sit down and she would go get her mom in a moment. There were still like 4 of us in line and I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.
  Some people have the ability to sense a seizure coming on, and if she really was about to have one, I didn’t want her to fall and get hurt. I walked up to her and offered to help her sit, as she looked very shaky and was trying to sit on the floor. I got an arm and helped lower her to the floor as I was telling the clerk I would go get the mom. Suddenly the lady dropped into the seizure.
  I told the clerk to go get the mom immediately as I took hold of the back of the lady’s neck so she didn’t slam her head into anything. I held onto her throuought the ordeal and her mom came in after it was over and helped as well. She had been sitting against the ice cream bin, so we slid her down all the way to the floor and another customer gave us a sweater to put under her head.
  She awoke confused and didn’t remember anything prior to it. I understand this happens often. She didn’t even remember leaving the house today. We helped her up and were walking her to the car as she was talking with her mom. “Where are we? We aren’t at home. I don’t remember coming here.” Then she looked at me, then back to her mom while she motioned toward me, “I remember him tho. I don’t know who he is, but I remember him.”
  I was floored. Why would she remember me? I would figure that I’d be forgotten like everyone and everything else. I helped her into the car, told them to take care, patted her mom on the back and told her it would all be ok, and went to my car where I cried almost all the way home.
  This is the second person in the last few months that I happened to be in the right place at the right time to help like this. It freaks me out a bit, because my father had a seizure just before he landed in the hospital where he died so it brings back a lot of emotions that i dont enjoy dealing with. But when I’m there, I am calm and alert. I seem to handle the situation well until it’s all over. I’m thankful for that! Could it be that I’m being shown part of my purpose in life? I don’t know what it means, or if it actually means anything at all… but one thing is for sure… I’m happy I was able to help.

Nonsensical mutterings,
Screaming at the voices,
A desolate wasteland,
Of discarded beer bottles,
Cigarette butts and trash.
Along with discarded dreams,
Aspirations and people,
I watch them sleep,
On cold concrete,
What promise they once held,
Destroyed by circumstance,
I sit with them and listen,
To the stories they weave,
Such intelligence and humbleness,
One would do well,
To listen to their advice,
All gone now,
I’m waiting for my bus


    Something about the way the sky looked last evening made me pull over and snap a shot.
    The building under construction, backlit by the setting sun, put me in a contemplative mood.
    Sometimes the setting sun is beautiful. This time it looked beautifully evil. Like a nuclear explosion in the distance. I caught myself wondering if possibly there could be zombies or cannibals residing in the building over yonder.
    Then I thought of all the other people possibly looking at the sunset at the same time. What were they thinking? How many of them were wondering where they took a wrong turn in life, missing a lost loved one, contemplating suicide? Were any of them moved to tears at such a beautiful sight in such a shitty world?
    I have a couple friends who enjoy pictures, and one who takes them quite a bit. I wonder, what does this picture make you think of?


The pathway worn by thousands of feet,
never ceases to amaze me.
So many people have walked here,
but the feeling of isolation remains.
I once walked this path with my father,
as I now walk it with my son.
Showing him the beauty of the world,
one path at a time.
I miss my father beyond what words can express,
but he lives on, in my heart, hands, and soul.
One day perhaps my son will walk here  with his child,
and fondly remember these times.

    “Stop pointing fingers and take some blame. Pull your future away from the flame. Open up your mind and start to live. Stop short changing your neighbors, living off of hand outs and favors. Maybe give a little bit more than you’ve got to give.” -Kid Rock-
    More than ever, I’m starting to notice how rude people are. I mean, nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes once in awhile, but have people forgotten the words please and thank you? Do people really have to try to screw one another over? 
    It seemes like the only way to get ahead in life, is to turn your heart to stone, and proceed to stab in the back, everyone in front of you. Well, I have had the knife placed in my hand; and I have also seen the sweet spot between the shoulder blades. A sheath for the blade in my hands.
    I refuse to place the knife where the world wants me to put it. I have thrown it in the dirt after cutting out my own heart. I have cut it out for those that have none. They can have it. I don’t need it.
    Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going all Goth on you all. I’m merely trying to state the stupidity of the state of affairs in this world. Destroying things to get ahead, is a lot like cutting down a tree, to build a treehouse. Where the hell are you going to put it?! How many people have helped a complete stranger today? Yesterday? Ever? It feels better to make somones life a little better, than anything else in the world.
    I would give my life for any one of you, if it meant that you would never feel pain or sadness. There is actually a time that I did put my life on the line to save a friend, but that’s another story in itself. Although I have a wicked scar to constantly remind me of that time in my life.
    I feel like i’m starting to ramble, so here is my point. Love one another! Don’t be another killing machine created by a cold, ruthless world. I also want to take a moment to thank all of you who read the words I spew onto this blog. It means a lot that people actually seem to care about what I have to say sometimes. So thank you all. I love you guys! 🙂

Adam Yauch (MCA) of Beastie Boys fame, died this morning. He had been fighting cancer for the past 3 years. He was a big activist for the Tibetan Freedom Movement, and a friend of the Dalai Lama. He was 47 years old.
R.I.P. Adam. You will be missed by many friends and fans alike.

Next Page »