I'm happier than I've ever been.

I can't sleep. I thought I was ok until my redneck roommate from tennesse told me he loves elton john, and of course I said play rocket man. It started playing, and I had to tell him it was about shooting drugs.  I had to point out the lyrics. I'm not the man they think I am at home... running down the road of hell alone... I'm a rocket man. Five days a week its cold as hell. If you've never been there, they are cool lyrics. If you have been, it is obvious. He was surprised.

That was just the thing that kept my mind working. Before that I had a fun conversation with someone who thought I was a lonely guy. My ex-wife has been posting signs around miami beach and new york, in my name, asking people to contact me. I've actually had some interesting conversations as a result. I just wish she could find some peace and stop making harassing me her life. It has been seven years since I've talked to her, for christ's sake. She's going to die of cancer, just like her mom if she can't let go of hating me.

Before that it was my new boss telling me I smoke too much at work. Prompted by two of my co-workers who I seem to irritate. One is a woman, and I think she is pissed that I don't flirt with her. The other is a man who is wired so tight, that my laisse faire attitude seems to rub him the wrong way. Again, this is someone who will drive himself to death if he doesn't relax a little, but he can't quite see it. Anyway, the vast majority of my customers love and appreciate my service and attention. They don't miss me when I smoke. The one or two who do though, are the squeeky wheels. Whatever.

Below all that is my romantic drama. I got impatient a couple days ago with a really cute too-young bartender who was supposed to have a pool date with me but blew me off because she was stoned, and I vented on my soulmate who isn't here with me because she has actuall responsabilities. There's also an artist about my age that I'm flirting with who won't pan out either. I know because I have a soulmate who I am supposed to be with, but karma keeps us apart. And then there is the unresolved matter of the parisian lesbian former roommate who won't talk to me anymore. And the beautiful billy the jack russell whom I miss terribly.

I just finished reading deepak chopra's book, buddha. It was good, and I reccommend it. It reminded me that first, life is full of dhukky. There is unpleasantness. Second, that nothing stays the same. There is nothing constant but change. And third, that self is an illusion. Desire is the cause of suffering. The cure for sadness and suffering is to relinquish the self and all of its desires. And all of its pleasures, and all of its pains. And do I really want to do that? Maybe I signed up for this life so I could be thrilled and anguished. Maybe I love the roller-coaster and don't really want to be enlightened and at peace... yet.

Come to think of it, there is absolutely nothing I have imagined that I might like to do that I haven't tried. Except the boat. And you know what? I'm about to let go of the fucking boat. It is something I have longed for for over 20 years, and I can't seem to ever get there. Screw it. So what if I die alone and impoverished? I have no prodgeny to let down. I have no wife to leave alone. I have lived well. I have no regrets.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to die, but maybe I am starting to refocus. Desire is the cause of all suffering, and I'm tired of suffering. All I have to do is stop wanting to be loved, and stop wanting to own a boat... I might be able to do that. And that wired too tight guy? I need to love him. And that chick who is half my age but thinks she knows more than me? Well, I don't know if I can do anything about that. I don't really care what she thinks or what she says, and if she manages to get me fired? Fuck her, god has my back.

It is four in the morning, and I have to get up in five hours and work a double shift. I'll be fine. Its only one day. I can stand on my head for one day. I feel better. I don't need the boat. I don't need the artist or the bartender or the lesbian or even the jack russell. Though I do miss him.

Maybe I've lost my mind. Maybe I'm losing my self. Christ, I hope so.

So tonight I enjoy a cool sobe april night. Summer is comming.

Yeah, well, that didn't work out. (Smile). I did rent the apartment for a nice profit, but had to split the commission with the guy who works for her full time-ish. Well, now I know I don't want to do business with short and plump.

I waited on a miami beach city commissioner last night. They loved me, of course. Gave me his card and said to email him " 'cause we have to get you registered to vote...". I came home and wrote him a really great letter that I should probably post so it gets into my book, then went out and decided it was a good night to play pool until there was no place open to play pool anymore. Then food; black beans, rice, and two eggs sunny up with lots of tobasco and lots of water. Finally to bed about six, then awake at one-thirty on my first day off of the week.

Re-read the letter, and yup, it is really good, but also remembered this is an election year, and I already know how far and in what direction this is going to go, so no, I did not send it. I will register in time to cast my vote, then I will deal with the inevitable jury duty when it comes around. I didn't vote in the last election. I didn't need to. This time though, I think my buddy Barack just might need my vote. I will make sure he gets it.

It was another almost undescribably beautiful day here on the beach. I woke up totally hungover, smiling, and grateful. How many times did I say thank you today? Atleast 50. I love being in this place at this time in the world, at this time in my life.

My new roommate is cool. He was my pool partner. But he is also one of those people who prefers to spend all day in doors watching tv. I do not understand this, even though I used to be the same pale, pasty news junkie. Then I became a different sort of junkie, then I became a child of god. Man can make nothing that compares to the works of god and nature, his physical manifestation. I would much rather watch the sun set and the moon rise than back-to-back episodes of One and a Half Men. I don't know, he was laughing as I cooked my dinner. But when I finished, he closed the apartment door (I like to eat at the table by the open door), he continued watching, and I brought my bottle of wine outside to watch dusk become twilight and then night.

I finished reading "Eat Pray Love". I loved it. Books are fun. They are my little escape. When I finish one, I am hit with the fact that I am alive and seperate from the characters who I became for an hour or so every day for the last week... but not to worry, I still have my blues. I took my first guitar lesson last week. It was very good. I have songs and melodies to practise. And as I separate myself from Elizabeth, I see that I have a beautiful life. I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing, still. I've been back on the beach for almost two years now, and I am rich beyond what I thought could ever be possible. And yes, I really want to learn italian, go to italy, india, and bali, but for now, there are people around here who need and love me, and who I need and love back.

I will get my boat. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I really think the universe, and every one in it would like to see me on a boat, and would be better for it.

So tonight I sit on my patio, on a cool april south beach evening, finishing my meritage, satisfied with my home-cooked steak dinner. And I am missing my soulmate. Elizabeth talked about that a little. I am blessed to have had her turn my world upside-down, and now I am alone again. Living my life and waiting for god to decide whether I can have her again, or if he has someone else speeding toward me like a frieght train. One thing I know is that I never get the easy way out. Somehow, for some reason, I always have to deal with the parts of me that I really don't like and would prefer to forget. I applied for a position on a sailboat heading up the coast then over to europe a couple days ago. I've gotten no response yet. I want to be on the water, not just next to it. Everyday, I ride my bicycle down to the southernmost point of this island. I sit by the water and eat my breakfast/lunch, and I note whether the tide is up or down, incomming or outgoing. I check out the clarity of the water, and I watch the fish and the birds. This is where I belong. I am happy, and I want to be even more dependant on the ocean, my spiritual mother. Someday before I die I will live on a sailboat, and I will sail that boat east, around the world. I will visit barcelona, ibiza, the south of france. I will explore italy like a new lover, then greece, turkey and the baltic sea. I will traverse the suez canal, and brave the piracy of the middle east. At that point, I'm not sure if I will head to south africa or india, but I know I will someday be exactly there, and will make that decision. Once I make it to bali and indonesia, I'm not sure how long it will take to bring me finaly to australia, hawaii, then baja, and san diego. Then I will tell anyone who will listen what I have learned, and probably do it again, and again, until I die or find a new soulmate.

What a long strange beautiful trip this is. Better than any blotter, and for sure much better without any rock or point in my vein. But shit, when will I finally get my boat?

Unbelievable

Not sure where to start... the solitary apartment didn't work out. The morning my snowbird friends left, they gave me the keys. I was sitting, having my coffee, when I saw a short, plump woman knocking on the door of my soon-to-be apartment. I stood and said they left, but I also noticed that they were in the parking space, buckled up, and had the car in reverse. I caught their attention... turns out the plump chick is the owner who was supposed to be in Egypt looking for a bride for her 32 year old son...

We all get together to talk. Owner's having nothing to do with me living there for free, after all, she's losing 8K a month, and she needs to recoup. Ok, here are your keys, sorry it didn't work out. Then she's telling me she can hook me up, and don't worry about my landlord who subleases from her... I'm about to go along, then realize I told the guy I'd rent from him for 6 months. Sorry, my word is important. No harm, no foul.

Then my capitalist brain starts working... 8K in the red per month?!? I just happen to be a former operations manager for a very successful suites hotel, and I know all about selling suites, turning rooms, and maximizing revenue per available room (REVPAR). I lose sleep one night plotting my return... I wake up and think, "Am I nuts? Who wants to manage apartments for next to nothing?".

I have some more coffee, and I start thinking about it, sober. Really, I have a unique skill set that certainly qualifies me to manage several apartments on a one to six month and more basis... I know everything from daily upkeep to yearly budgeting. Marketing, advertising, sales, upgrades, network mainenance, you name it, I've done it...

I start thinking about how I could get control of 10 units, and how much profit I could make. I get excited, then I realize maybe the owner has her own dumpy plans for the place. I really don't feel like putting together a sales pitch, so I forget it, and concentrate on making money on my double shift. I figure if she needs help, she will find me.

I made really good money on my double shift. I'm at home, happy, drinking beer, and deciding what I'm going to clean, and what I'm going to buy tomorrow. I'm sitting on my stoop, as always, at 1:00 am, and who do I see walking up the sidewalk toward me? Short and plump. Do I know anyone who wants to rent? Actually, yes, I know two people. Do you know computers, and can you pass a drug test? Yes and yes...

She says she wants to turn part of her house into a hostel, and I can have 10% if I can make it work. She says I can start with the apartment that was supposed to be mine.  I say I will text her Tuesday, and we can talk about it...

Unbelievable. You want to talk about frieght trains?

So now I'm thinking about how much I need to make to pay my rent and save a respectable amount per month for my boat... I'm not quitting my day (night) job, but shit, this could actually work out to be something good. I was given a great recommendation, and I definetly have the skills...

It always turns out to be that third option, doesn't it? You make your plans, but you keep in mind that god has his own plans for you. I take care of myself to the best of my ability, but I try to never forget that I am in a canoe with god. I'm the one doing the paddeling, but he's the one steering.

Sorry, no picture, but stay tuned...

Knuckle-draggers.

I went to my favorite hatian restuarant on south beach tonight to re-affirm my faith in the hatian soul. I guess there's no secret because there is only one hatian restuarant on south beack; Tap Tap. So named because they only have two taps, guinness and bass.

I needed to re-affirm my trust because the guy who, with his friend, jumped me and threw me out by force, was hatian. Since then, I've seen black people and I've felt resentment, and I know that isn't right. So I went to Tap Tap, ordered the grilled conch, convinced a couple white guys that it is pronounced conk, not conch, and had a very nice conversation with a hatian-toronto transplant about my recent trials and tribulations.

She told me I am black on the inside... I felt honored, but wondered what the hell is that? A reverse oreo? I don't know the slang, maybe someone else does. Anyway, by speaking with her, I was able to remember my own maxim that there are cool people and assholes in every color, religion, and sexual orientation. That guy was an asshole, and I am only a slightly less asshole. But at least I don't go around trying to put choke holds on other people. And I might add that he was unsuccessful with me. It was only when the second guy was able to get my arm and twist it that they were able to shove me out. I guess I'm still a little miffed, but my conversation tonight got me back on the healing tract.

Black on the inside...

I like that. No, I'm for sure not black. I don't know what it is like to grow up as a less-than member of society. I was always equal-to, or more-than. But I do know the falseness of that way of thinking. I have been trying to pray that I could love that guy. It isn't easy.

What else is there to say? I texted my landlord, and he is cool with me living for a month on some one else's dime, as long as I really do come back and pay him for four more months with two other people... we'll see.

I know I don't play well with others, and everyone is telling me to get my own place. But there is always the issue of money. If I could find two reasonably clean and respectful persons, male or female, who were only a little stable, I could make it four months. No more knuckle-draggers though. I think I've learned my lesson; pay more, fight less... it is worth the cost in the long run.

It is past midnight, and time for me to go to bed. In a day and a half I get my own private place where I can cook again. I'm going to throw a dinner party as soon as I possibly can. I'm going to invite the coolest people I know, and just see what happens. I hope they don't think I'm a knuckle-dragger...

Love is all there is. Thank you father.

Freight train

It was the third outcome. Yesterday I moved into an entirely different apartment. One of my roommates is actually a friend, a guy I met shortly after I moved in a couple months ago. He is out of town, visiting his family for a week. The other is french, not a good sign, but I haven't seen him in the 24 hours that I have been there. I got a very good night sleep last night, and woke up early for my day off.

I feel my heart beginning to thaw, or relax, or maybe open a little. For the last two months, I have been protecting it from the toxic, always unfriendly and often openly hostile environment that I was liviing in. Instincively, and deliberately, I erected my protective walls. I showed as little of my self as possible, and used whatever force was necessary to repell attacks, both psychological and physical. On the last night it took two of them to overpower me and push me out of the apartment. 15 minutes later, miami beach's finest arrived, on my side this time since I had called them, and cleared a path for me to get back to my bed. The next morning I packed, and moved my things out.

I have a couple small bruises, nothing that won't be gone in a day or so. I'm recognizing how armoured I'd become now that it is safe to relax a little. If I were perfect, I would have been able to live in that environment in peace, and possibly have helped my roomates grow. But I am definitely not perfect, and now I am greateful to have had the experience. I'm still working out what I learned about myself and how I interact with others.

Oh yeah, so... my new apartment is safe and even more disgusting than the last one. In two days though, I get to move into my snowbird friend's place, for free, alone, for at least three weeks. I'm not even going to unpack here. I'm recognizing that I created a very difficult space that I am just now comming out of. I have three weeks to heal, and process, build and plan. Do I stay in the same building with roommates again? Do I find a studio where I can continue to live by myself? Does god, once again, have something totally different and even more wonderful in store for me? Only time will tell.

OMG...

OMG...(I hate that acronym, but it fits here) a friend gave me a copy of "Eat Pray Love", and I just started to read it today. I would swear someone was plagerizing my blog, except that it was published a year before I started. I almost decided to stop reading it so I could continue to claim that all my thoughts are original, then I remembered that there is nothing that hasn't been said and done before, and that truth is where you find it, and that I will take all the help I can get. And, even if my words don't spring forth from a totally new and unique consciousness, at least I can say that what you see me do, and read in my blog are pretty much on the edge of my experience. I haven't spent two years experiencing, only then to reflect, integrate, and write my conclusions. You are getting the raw intelligence relating to my experiences as I grow, almost as quickly as it all comes to me. It leaves me open to criticism as naive, and I will accept that, re-affirming that humility and service are the highest ideals. Remember, I am not special or perfect. You can do this at home if you want to.

Yes, I am dealling with feeling a bit scooped at the moment. Someone else is writing, in retrospect, about everything I have been struggling through for the past two years. I'm not too worried though. I see three possible outcomes from me reading this book; one, it turns out we start from the same point, but end up going through different things until we end parallel to each other. Two, we start from the same point and go in radically different directions, eventually landing in entirely different places. And three, we do exactly the same things, but I report, and you experience, the craziness as it occurs, without the benefit of hindsight. Any of these outcomes is acceptable to me, and because it is my self-centered blog, that's all that matters. Actually, there is a fourth, and much more likely possible outcome, and that is that we start from different points and come together in a beautiful and loving way that furthers the evolution of all beings and brings us a fraction of an order of magnitude closer together for one devine instant of time. I like that one, and I feel better now.

I can already see we are starting from different points. She had the life. I had the addiction. She understands me, probably, in that space of craving and self-loathing. Hers was about a partner and things, mine was about a partner and some heavy drugs. She recounts her rebirth in a way that had me nearly in tears. I had that moment, but my significant memory is of the flipside of the coin. I remember being so low... so low... and how I surrendered control of my life, and how I felt a hole becomming filled with love, divine love, that I had not even noticed to exist before. Yet the NEED drove me for five years, and hounded me for another seven before I came to now, struggling with my current set of really great problems. They aren't even worth the space it would take to list them.

So.... with all that said, here is the update. I have decided to surrender, again. I am moving out of my apartment within the week, and there are three (again with the three!) possible outcomes...

One, tomorrow I move two apartments West, in with an italian guy who has a week left before he leaves, and a soo cute italian girl bartender who has been checking me out, and is staying for another month. Emphasis on girl. She is so enticing, and way too young for me. A friend to learn italian with? That would be awesome! I just got my first phrasebook from the library. Tuto benne! I don't even know if I spelled that right, but I will be learning soon. It's a passion...

Two, I stay stuck where I am until Saturday when my lovely Canadian Snowbird friends, two apartments East, go back home and they let me stay for free in their apartment, alone, for the rest of the month. Emphasis here on what happens the first week in May? Will there be another bed open in this building that I can take? Or, will I be able to save enough in a month to pay for, and find, my own studio with parking, alone, somewhere else?

Three, something from out of nowhere hits me like a speeding freight train and turns out to be exactly what god had planned for me all along. God in the lower case because that's how I prefer to sign my name, and there is no doubt in my military mind that god is right here with me, in the trenches. I'm sure she/he/it doesn't give a flying f**# how I call him, but when we speak, it is meaningful for me to say "father".

I read recently on CNN's website, that computers are expected, within the next five years to be able to perform something like a quadrazillion operations in a tenth of a millisecond. That's pretty damn close, and maybe more, than what yours and my brains can do when they are sober and alert. All they lack is organization, and I am sure that will come within three to five years after. My android phone will suddenly become my android personal assistant, and in some cases, maybe my android proxy. (... my android lover? I hear Harrison Ford around the corner...)

Do you recognize that we are seeing our world turned upside-down and inside-out? Will you respond by retreating to fundamentalist religeous core values, or do you give your life and your future over to god, as you see him, to make of you as he will? Is it us and them... or maybe, it is us and our past divided but evolving into one?

Oh My God... East, West, or South? May you live in interesting times :)

Cazzo figa culo tetas...

It is good that I didn't try to quit smoking today. We had no computers all day; had to do everything by hand. When I finished the three gimlets after work, I felt like I was alive,barely, but my eyes were still not open.

I got home, I found my new ibizian friend. We started talking in spanish, italian, a little french, and english quando necessario. I got more cigarettas e vino, e cashews, and I know I'm not sober, but I'm home, safe, and happy. She leaves in nine days.

I had planned to quit tomorrow, but I think I need to set the date back 24 hours. I work at 7pm tomorrow, so I have enough time to get plenty of rest, take care of my errands, get some good exercise, maybe some sun, and still make money before my first day off of the week. Perfecto! I have a healthy day, then I take it home.

I didn't hit a meeting today. I'm not sorry. There was a low-bottom, street-bum, teeth-missing alcoholic who made it back one day before me. George, I think. First he had one day more than me, then two, three. Now it doesn't matter. AA is for souls like his, me has to find his own path.

Me, myself, and I. A long time ago, I wrote about us. I finished work, while me slept, and myself left at one o'clock. Capiche? What is the best language for convoluted poetry?

My new friend is teaching me bad words in italian. If you can say "shut up!", and "fuck you!" in any language, you can make people laugh, and that is how you begin to communicate.

No mas esta noche, no more tonight. Stay bat-tunned to the same bat-channel... something else is for sure going to happen soon.