From Junkie Stories: The Fishbowl

The room was called “The Fishbowl.” It was somewhat small and white walled with white acoustic ceiling tiles and fluorescent light fixtures, placed accordingly in rows throughout the ceiling tiles, and hung in the ceiling with aluminum lenses to disperse the light throughout the room.

With an aisle down the center, The Fishbowl lined with rows of padded blue chairs with padded armrests on black steel wired frames that were less than comfortable on nony asses such as mine. The floor was light colored hardwood and Continue reading

Why I walk in the mornings

It is beautiful this way . . .
The streets I mean—all wet from last night’s rain. The double yellow line that runs down the center of the road seems to glow a little beneath a dull colored morning. The sky is covered in a blanket of light gray clouds. This is the kind of gray that matches a long beard on a puppet I once saw as a young boy.
Although it is summertime and the heat has been as thick and the air is as humid as a wet blanket; I bundle up in cold weather clothes. The weather is muggy and warm but there is a purpose for my heavy clothing.

After an early rise, I put on a t-shirt, a thermal shirt beneath a hooded sweatshirt with another hooded Continue reading

Monday, July 04, 2016

It is early here on my side of the mountain. The sky is a clear blue with only traces of color left behind from the early sunrise. From my view, I can see the sun filter through the tall trees that stand behind Old Wesley Chapel.
This chapel is very much a part of our history. The oldest grave planted in the small cemetery aside the old church that remains standing as it was is dated back to 1803. The Church remains because it is to remind us of our history.

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From Junkie Stories

No one ever plans for it. It almost seems like we blink, and the next thing we know, we’ve fallen so far off course. Three things were frightening to me. First is since I moved in too deeply; I was so far from the starting line that I thought I was too lost to turn around and find my way back to the straight and narrow. Second, and most importantly, I was too afraid to stop. The anxiety of feeling Continue reading

A Day In My Life

There is a little flophouse motel between North Birch and North Ft. Lauderdale Beach Blvd, which is also known as A1A.
Just beyond the edge of the better hotels and resorts like The Ritz Carlton and other pricey names of well polished accommodations, The Seville Hotel and Apartments was tucked inside a mid-block location.
The rooms were small and the walls were terribly thin. The floor was Continue reading