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| Strewn apart |
| 07.29.04 (10:24 pm) [edit] |
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Still strewn apart and uncomfortable in my skin, I thought by my early twenties it would be at an end. But damn the strength of life and will, I'm still here. No matter how far I flung pieces of myself, they still kept coming back. My insistence that I was to happy of a child; too optimistic and cotton-brained, laughing too easily and not being hardened led me to disgust. I didn't deserve to shine when the world's goal was soot. I walk near my thirties now, on a charred and fertile ground. I do my prayers with my head up, and remember with it down.
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| six yr old niece drowns |
| 07.28.04 (9:06 pm) [edit] |
Monday I attended the funeral of my six year old niece. She is not a blood niece, but the daughter of one of my closest friends. She drowned during swimming lessons. For some reason, whoever was on duty was not there. SWIMMING LESSONS for Christ sake!!! Who the hell forgets to watch the swimming lessons with 6 year-olds!
The funeral was beautiful, and there were so many of us there. The procession was led by a thunderous herd of motorcycles, with my un-blood brother Joe in the lead. One hundred balloons were released at the cemetary, and someone had brought instruments for the kids to play, including a giant crystal bowl.
I went to my first wake later that night and didn't drink a drop. I was the worst drinker of the bunch, haven't seen much of anyone in two or three years because of it. Felt ok to be sober for once.
I miss my favorite little fairy princess and I cannot change anything that happens, no matter how sad I get.
:cry:
I'll feel you in the playful wind, sweetie.
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| Freeflow Librarianism |
| 07.23.04 (8:56 pm) [edit] |
Here's a blog for all the librarians and patrons out there.
To the crazyness that is known as,
The Summer Reading Program.
Forgive my freestyle write lack of form, I'm trolling along on thread of thought.
The morning starts off still... too still.
Two kids come in an sign up for the internet. I peacefully shelve the overnight drops in the childrens' section and begin running overdue notices. A few more trickle in. I log the newspapers we recieved and double check the shelves for overdue books that might not have gotten discharged. Walking out of the non-fiction room at close to ten, BANG!, almost all of the computers are full. The front desk computer is printing out sheaves of anime stuff, someone's msn isn't loading, someone needs help booking a room over the net, and someone else needs help loading chat.
Here's where coffee becomes my hero helmet. The outside world dissapears and I become a man in motion, a search engine in macro speed. Rolling from patron to patron I help set up accounts, look up subjects, direct and redirect, scan, check-out, and stamp, ask for permission slips, swoop by to shelve Mem Fox, Beatrix Potter, and Eric Carle. I finish off with a vault around the corner of the front desk and greet my sk8t boarders with a HEY!, and proceed to examine their latest road rash.
Perhaps no-where on Earth could I be so joyful in my work. Even though every computer has a quirk, every person an incredibly common or odd request, and every toddler busting loose dumping out puzzles and dancing barefoot upon the pieces. There's no place quite like a library and we love to see it live.
Visit us, support us; anyone who does is the life blood of the community's mind and memory. [u]Anyone with a card in hand, also holds our heart.[/u] Thank you.
--Zeke, Youth Services
8)
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| Dreamscape |
| 07.19.04 (9:24 pm) [edit] |
The tall thin man walks under the sliver moon. Lightning flashes purple behind the clouds to the west. The arms of the milky way can be seen through them overhead. He treads with one foot in the now, and one foot in the past.
The neighbor's rock garden passes by, then a thought of musky nights entwined with her sweet bad influences.
The asphalt underfoot that once was dirt, the sun-bleached skulls of the antelope he helped his father hunt.
The dark, silent town; memory of the birthday party that ended in a blood-spatter beneath the back porch.
The dead truck in the field, the feel of her hair as we once slept in back while camping.
Foggy nights so close behind, drawing at his heart with an all too familiar sting. With a lust like the darkest, warmest places; he misses and fears her.
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| Micro-environments gone wild. |
| 07.17.04 (10:19 pm) [edit] |
Our willow trees are infested with aphids. Tiny little green aphids on top and bottom of just about every leaf.
I looked down to the metal stool I sit on when I smoke, and noticed more aphids on that. I then noticed other little bugs crawling around on it.
Little black larva with red tiger stripes. I recognized them as baby Lady Bugs. I got a closer look.
They were hunting. I witnessed one bite into an aphid and suck the juice out of it. I saw the aphid's teeny little legs fighting away until they slowed, and then, nothing.
I then decided to try something new. I was curious. Would aphids taste good to a human?
I took a pinch of the bitsy little critters and sampled them. They looked like the tiniest of lime-drops. But, alas, no taste at all.
Oh, well, someone has to find these things out.
I'll leave them for the Lady Bugs.
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| Blessed Summer |
| 07.17.04 (9:48 am) [edit] |
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It's rained most of June and early July. The sun is finally out and things are hot. I let it fill my lungs and watch the bees on our bushes. Today I can't complain, I get to go into town to golf with a friend. Today I will walk upon the Goddesse's grass, smell her perfume, and patiently chase a little white ball with a stick. Let it be a simple pleasure, and let me have a quiet mind. Humor be, and Blessed be.
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| My steps at night... |
| 07.16.04 (9:18 pm) [edit] |
My night walking has brought me to many places. It is a time you can stroll slow and peacefully, or stalk with a low gliding lope. I hear the animals in the bushes around, flinching away from me. The river always babbles with a more distinct voice at night, sometimes I hear a rock turn over underneath.
The dogs bark on the other side of my river. They are incarcerated. Most of them weren't bad, they were just born. There's just too many. It's someone's job to put them down when they stay there too long. Their meat goes to waste.
The bats and the flash bugs are out. The tiny black flies follow the scent of my breath and form a cloud above me. I light a smoke, swipe my hat through the air a few times and keep walking. They always return. I will always be their food.
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| Lord, Lady, and The Stream of Life |
| 07.16.04 (2:36 pm) [edit] |
I hate to think of myself as the creation of a single parent. My higher power is three, acting as one.
Some might find this interesting.
Lord, Lady, Stream of Life
=
Air, Earth, Water
=
Knowledge, Wisdom, Action
=
Father Sky, Mother Earth, Us
_________________________ ______________________
Here's an interesting question.
If "God" is Omnipotent, and Omnipresent;
(can do anything, or be anywhere)
then can "He" create a rock so big that "He" cannot move it?
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| Spirituality is... |
| 07.15.04 (12:44 pm) [edit] |
Spirituality is a poem of appreciation
it is a slow soft step
at dusk or dawn
with the tug of the mountain
drawing on my heart
Spirituality is the staunch vitality of life
a bent tree upon a cliff
an eagle on wing before a storm
spider weaving her web
the seed that opens with fire
Spirituality is companionship
it is a group gathered to worship
or walking late at night with another
learning to cook from my mother
gathering firewood from the forest with my father
Spirituality is the elements at work
the wind ushering storms
that hit the mountains
feeding streams, rivers, lakes and seas
it is calling the seasons my friend
Spirituality is a humble vow
appreciating every soft step
testing my wings on heavy winds
gifts my elders handed down
an offering I make of myself
to the weather life brings.
--Zeke Lind
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| 30 days! |
| 07.14.04 (1:58 pm) [edit] |
I have made it 30 days, completely sober. Sure I drink enough coffee in a day to kill a small marsupial, but coffee doesn't count as a chemical that makes you unsober. Even if it is still a mood altering substance. Got back to work, going part time at the moment. Things are kind of awkward, as none of the others on staff have any kind of addiction, besides maybe smoking cigs. People are glad to see me back, and I'm glad to do the crazy things that are asked of me once again. Example: earlier on I had a boy with Down Syndrome (I think) ask me to draw a picture of Wolfman. I did it about five minutes before quitting time, and it actually turned out better than if I had taken my time and worried about accuracy. Some times it pays not to be a perfectionist. I should remember my advice here for later.
*Stomach grumbles* Ooop! Food time! Laters.
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| Back at home |
| 07.10.04 (8:46 pm) [edit] |
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I'm finally no longer an in-patient. Went to my first meeting in my little home town today. Been in the city for treatment for so long that reality itself, even sober, seems wierd. Saw one of my friends (a safe friend) on my way home, and he was walking to the river. Just where I was going. Had to visit my favorite tree. Haven't been able to take a long bike path walk for about a month or more. We saw deer, picked up a frog (who promptly peed on us), and also some flash bugs (very rare). It was good to walk and talk with him. My stomping territory looks more beautiful than ever.
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| rough life |
| 07.03.04 (1:31 pm) [edit] |
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Things have been tough lately. I checked myself into a recovery center to deal with my alchoholism. Thank God for A.A. I went nuts for a while, then my eyes cleared, and now I feel like I have a whole new lease on life. This is an experience I'll never forget. Turns out it's not my will power, but my DNA. It's like an allergy that once turned on, gets progressively worse. I'm learning lots about spirituality, and think God led me here for some reason. Bizarre how the most F'd up situations turn out for the better.
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Cost of the War in Iraq
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