I am writing this specifically to you in return for the kindness you have shown in the past. This kindness is not uncommon between good friends—especially old friends like us. But to confirm, I write this to you because the sort of kindness you showed me is the most important kind of all.
The greatest kindness anyone can show are the tiny reminders that someone else knows, listens, and remembers. Take the sunrise for example. Aside from me, there are few people who Continue reading
Something I relate to is the feeling of loneliness in a crowd. No matter how many people are in my vicinity or the proximity of those closest one beside me—I understand what it feels like to be sitting next to someone and feel as if I am oceans apart.
Then of course, there is Continue reading
One of the first things they told me is to watch out for people, places, and things. At first, I resisted this idea. Perhaps I resisted most because this was something I wanted to give up least.
People, places, and things referred to more than just my old friends or my old stomping grounds, which is where we did the things we did.
People, places, and things meant that I needed to pick my surroundings carefully. This meant I needed to carefully choose who I spent time with. I needed to be mindful of my behavior because above all, these three things are what easily lead back to the path I was removed from. And had I not been removed from my environment, or had I been given the choice of where to go or who Continue reading
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
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
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
I used to tell you about a dream I had about living in a small place up in the woods. I always imagined myself writing in a little studio with the quiet humble comforts of a warmly peaceful surrounding. In my thoughts, I pictured myself in a Continue reading
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
(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
The Written Addiction 