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.

Continue reading →

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 →

From The Book Of Firsts

(A prayer written from last night’s campsite)

 

Dear God,

I have been leaving messages for you over the last few days. I’m not sure if they are going through or if you’ve had time to check them with your schedule being as it is. In order to feel close to you, I took a climb and headed up Dater Mountain between Breakneck Pond and the Continue reading →

For a Dad and His Daughter

It’s called gastroenteritis. I was never really sure what this word meant. I was very young and very sick with this. I think gastroenteritis has something to do with the inflammation of the muscles in the stomach and intestines, causing terrible vomiting and a list of other problems. To me, gastroenteritis was just a really long grown-up word that made no sense and kept me sick.

I do not have too much memory of this bout of mine. The memories I have though have lasted with me throughout the decades. Aside from the hospital stays and the needles they poked me with; aside from Continue reading →

Life and the Hike

We started the hike just after 7:00am.

Heading a short ways down Haverstraw, we parked the car in a small lot off the side of a quietly unused road at the edge of the woods near Diltzes Lane. This was the start of my fourth true hike and my first true test of endurance. My pack was not light, by any means. With the exception of my tent, sleeping bag, and mattress pad; I carried all that I would need for an overnight stay, which is a plan that will soon unfold.
Marking the starting point, I pulled my water Continue reading →

Bizarro Fiction: Lust and Blood

It’s called paranoia. It’s part of social anxiety.
It’s part of lunacy, they say, but I call it life. . .
Delirium slips in under the wire, like a surprise visitor, and it dwells as a voice in your head. Can you hear it?
I know I can.

First, the craziness comes in like a slow and subtle storm. And you start to second guess yourself. You wonder things like, “Is anything really worth it?”
You wonder if it will pay off and when.
“When is my turn,” you wonder, and Continue reading →