Archives: November 2003
Sun Nov 30, 2003
Woof! Woof!
I'm walking the dog. Be right back.
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Sat Nov 29, 2003
Quick Update!
I'm still without internet access at the apartment, so I'm doing a quick email check and update from here at work this morning.
Wonderful days! My wife and her mother (the mother-outlaw..heehee)
joined me here in Ga. for Thanksgiving. We had a wonderful re-union and
a nice Thanksgiving dinner, even if it was at Cracker Barrell! heh. My
daughter was terrified at the news of her dad eating Turkey at Cracker
Barrell. It could have been worse. K&W?
Time to hit the floor and sell, sell, sell!!!
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Thu Nov 20, 2003
Untitled...any suggestions?
UNTITLED
ever left, turn right
through light's mangled night
straight ahead, back again
my pain filled longing
within my soul's maze
i wander endlessly dazed
lost and alone
helpless to atone
when will you free me
when can i be
rested and peaceful
freed from disease
when will my eyes dry
finish their crying
when will this longing
cease wanting for dieing
time swirls in a chaos
demanding my loss
tearing the shear fabric
so wonderfully tragic
i grasp with each breath
i scream as a wraith
arms taunt in dispair
"please, freedom draw near."
broken, empty i fall
with one last gasp i call
"take me. you've won
no more i'm undone...undone.”
a mere shell i remain
empty of all, even pain
broken shards of the potter's
failed craft, shattered...
I REALLY NEED A MEETING!!!!!!
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Mon Nov 17, 2003
Exit this way...
this is one of those times i'd like to quit life. i give up. i
surrender. would someone please direct me to the nearest exit? i don't
like this ride.
thank you. shit.
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Thu Nov 13, 2003
The Wind Blows Here
The wind blows today.
Swirls of primal breeze, tossing leaf and trash, now utter demands for
change. When the wind howls, heads tilt down, sheltered in upturned
collars and carried by brisk steps. The wind hurries us for shelter,
into hiding places. We seek shelter from the reality of this new
season’s harshness and begin fond memories of sunlit days, and solar
baths. And the wind blows, incessantly flickering around exposed skin
and dreams, threatening with dry screams and blistering torments. These
shouts of transformation bring winter truths that must rest here,
beginning hidden germinations that may yield so much more. When the
cold is fractured by spring’s breeze, and shoots fill with new sap,
bursting into life once more, heralding life's arrival.
But, for now, the hiding begins. Because, today the wind blows.
Strangely enough, it is a welcomed change within my spirit.
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Tue Nov 11, 2003
Doing Nothing
There is nothing really wrong. Sure, I could name a few items on my
list of 'life-on-life's terms' stuff that I would like to be different:
seeing my family, more money, fewer debts, less physical pain in my
joints, etc., but the truth is, there is really nothing wrong.
BUT, I feel restless. I want something grand and powerful to
move into my being... I want to feel desired and admired. I want to
feel special and superhuman! I have THAT feeling in my gut, the
restlessness that comes with my disease, addiction... the beginning of
the emptiness that naws at my spirit and often sends me looking for
distractions. Distractions are often dangerous for me.
What to do? It is simple really. As my sponsor often suggest, "The
first thing to do is nothing." Nothing is what I am doing tonight.
After I finish my entry here, I'll browse a few blogs, watch a little
TV and go to sleep. Nothing really. Ordinary.
Ordinary is good for me, healthy even. Tomorrow, I'll live with this
familiar knot in my gut, and feel whatever longing abides with me, and
tomorrow I will go to a meeting, call my sponsor and if recent history
repeats itself, I will feel some relief from that familiar feeling.
I'm reminded of a poem I wrote some time back.
Familiar
who are you,
this creature with my face and eyes,
small and fleet running rampant on my soul?
what quest brings you here again
to devour my joy and chase away my peace
ever laughing as you go, flinging scorn and distain?
come, troubler of spirits
rest here on my lap and tell me what fuels your frensy
how comes your recent troubled flight into my thoughts?
sit with me
let us wait together for the rain
waterfalls often bring sprites in drops of tears and sweet dew.
let us wait here, together
my familiar.
-Theo
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Sun Nov 09, 2003
Erudite Irritations
I am missing the presence of any intellectually stimulating
conversation. I’m tired and feeling like I work with a bunch of morons.
It’s me, I’m sure. It’s me in some sort of self inflated state. I’ll be
all but embarrassed by this post tomorrow. I’m sure. But, if i hear one
more twisted word, or scrambled incomplete sentence spoken through
rasping, smoke filled lips....
How do you spell "i-dee" anyway? "I have a i-dee 'bout sumtun we can do!"
I know. I’m being a snob, short sighted, and judgmental.
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Thu Nov 06, 2003
Imitation?
I got a surprise tonight!
Someone added me to their contact list on MSN a few months back, and I
never got around to checking to see who it was. Well, tonight I was
clicking through my contact list, deleting some old, out-of-date
contacts and stumbled on a person's profile that lists my website as
his personal site. Go figure! If imitation is flattery...I guess I am
flattered! If you are signed into MSN you can view it here.
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Tue Nov 04, 2003
Congruence - Embedded Sorrow
I believe we all wander through life, cloaked with various masks, skins
of textured facades, living as much with our fabricated external selves
as with our inner truth. Therein lays our deepest self, the pain, loss,
ache of life’s journeys won and lost. Therein lies that being so often
sought and revered as the true self, the real us. Yet, is either the
outer or inner more real? Are we not both mask and soul? The beauty and
grace of the dance, without the well hidden strain and sweat of the all
but stumbling artist would not exist, nor would the precarious effort
have any value, but for the fabric of the art finding form.
Here it is
I’ll show you
Lend me your hand
Your fingers here
Below my right breast
On the porcelain skin
Feel it?
Yes, this small cut runs deep
Within lies
My embedded sorrow
-Theo
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Mon Nov 03, 2003
If
"If"
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
More...
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