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.

Hey, 34 years smoking, over 20 at two plus packs a day...

I made it two and a half days. About three or four hours after my last post I bought a pack of cigarettes and a pitcher of beer. After my first beer and a couple cigarettes, I relaxed, and thought "This is nice, what's wrong with this?". Of course, then I went through the list of what is wrong with that. Beefore I lit the first cigarette though, I thought about what I was experiencing, and why I was choosing to smoke.

I remembered the solidness of being sober. The waking up clear headed, and the security of a clean routine. I forgot how it felt to "handle life on life's terms". That means not on my terms, sort of. It means I don't get to check out, or insulate myself with a warm blanket of alcohol when I've had a rough day. I have to face my nerves with no chemical assistance. Maybe for some of you this is common, and you do it every day. Not for me. I can handle my stress through the day, but at the end, I want some beers, or some wine to change my headspace. Kind of a mini-vacation. And that is fine until the time when I've had enough, then decide I should go get more.

I had a blowout with my good friend and former roommate. Though now I may need to say former good friend too. I was wondering if my old therapist would describe this as a "folie a deux", like he did my second marriage. We just have this chemistry thing where we get along great until we don't get along, and then we tear each other apart. For me, it clears the air. For her, being French, words don't fade away. She may hate me to her grave. I felt really bad for about one evening, then I remembered how my life gets really easy when I don't let her complicate it.

I thought about The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kundera. About a guy who keeps getting himself into trouble because he can't stand not having anything to direct his attention toward. And I remembered that I have almost no worries in this world. I could list my worries, but why bother? They are really nothing. And I remembered that I am happier at work, and thus get better tips when I'm not tired from helping her, or preoccupied with my worries about her problems. So then I stopped feeling bad (after I texted an apology, and my sincere regrets over the loss of her friendship).

So I didn't even think about trying to quit smoking on a Friday or Saturday. Work is too stressful for that. I decided to give myself Sunday because I'm going to work a lunch and will for sure want a beer and a martini after, as the sun sets. I love twilight. So my new quit date is Monday. I think I can do it. I'm going to look into chantix, on the advice of my drug selling cousin. Oops, pharmaceutical representative cousin...

I have a bit of a hiatus now, and I intend to make the most of it. I know god has stuff planned for me down the road, and I welcome my next assignment. In the meantime though, I'm going to do some pushups of my own and becomming a little bit more bad myself. My addiction never rests, but that has to make him a little weak, right? Even god rested for one day.

We'll see....

Slow progress

Wow, writing my blog when I'm sober. This is weird...

I haven't had a drop of alcohol in over two days. That isn't really very significant to me though. What is significant is that I haven't had even one drag from one cigarette in over two days. My goal isn't to stop drinking, though I have been going to meetings to help, my goal is to stop smoking. And I know that if I drink, I will smoke. Still, being back in the rooms has made me recognize that I haven't been in a truely sober state of mind for awhile.

I have been doing ok, and I haven't been using anything else. Still, I haven't been building like I feel I should be. Yes, my truck is running great, I have a great bicycle, and a little money saved. And also in the last two months I have probably spent more money on cigarettes and alcohol than all my other expenses (excepting rent and phone) combined. I'm not disparaging my progress, I just feel I could be doing more.

So that's why I decided to quit smoking. And it has been really, really hard. I know that within a couple more days the cravings will subside, and in a couple weeks the habit of not smoking will begin to take hold. Last night I worked my first shift without smoking. I came so close to picking up a cigarette. I went to bed instead, and as a result, I can make the above statement, instead of "I've only had one cigarette in the last two days". And it is good because every cigarette I smoke prolongs my agony, and makes my sucess less likely.

I'm not really thinking about much else now, just readjusting my habits to a healthier lifestyle. I promised to be honest, and that's where I am right now. That's all I have to say I guess. Stay tuned...

Better to be quiet and thought a fool, than to speak and confirm it

I just re-read my posting from last night. It wasn't that bad...  or that good. While my identity is not to be found in my different jobs, I do find that now, serving is still good for me. It is the real me that comes to your table, not just a face. But unless we've met many times in and out of work, you don't know me. And if you don't like me, it isn't the real me, it is the me you see through your dinner experience. Whatever that happens to be, good or bad. I like doing everything I can to make it good. But I don't take offense if I'm treated as something subhuman, that's your problem, not mine. I am here to serve, and if you need a dog to kick, you really won't be hurting me. And you will leave soon anyway, and I have five other tables who are having a great time, in part because of my service.

Serving keeps me humble, and it helps me learn and make new friends, and network to help other friends. And when I leave at night, it all stays there until I come back the next day. And I go home and do the stuff that is my new life.

I'm going to try to quit smoking again. Actually I already tried but had to retreat. I tried and failed last year. This year, three days ago, I stopped smoking using only the gum. I didn't smoke all day until I went out for a nice dinner, a nice wine, and couldn't stand ruining the taste with the gum. But the next day, I tried again. Around 1:00 or 2:00 pm, I realized that I was really groggy from nicotine withdrawl. I realized that the past year when I chewed the gum at work, and smoked at the same time, I was probably bumping up my nicotine intake, and the gum just would not be enough.

So, I went back to smoking and set a new quit date. This time though, I will use the patch and the gum. It worked for me before. Many years ago when I actually quit for six weeks. Early next week, we'll see...

I started using a custom excel program to track my daily expenses. Most of them are reasonable, but alcohol and cigarettes are consuming an unacceptable percentage of my money. I knew that would be the case, but I wanted to collect the data, and see it with my own eyes. I have three weeks of base line measurements now, and it is very motivating.

I will report honestly, just like before, and just maybe I will make it this time. Like the guy said, I want to live my dreams, not dream my life.

I really am happy, I'm also aware as I can be. I love my job, and I am grateful for it, and for my apartment with all its' challenges. I can see things in my way, and I am taking solid steps to adapt and overcome, because that's what I do now.

I can't solve other people's issues. The best I can do is be solid myself and respond to them naturally, from a peaceful place. The trick is finding, and staying in a peaceful space.

So I'm changing again, trying to anyway, and also staying the same. The more I change, the more I stay the same. I like that, too bad I'm not the first to say it.

Strange that I don't have much to say tonight. My life is pretty simple, and most of my attention is taken by the act of living it. I stop sometimes to reflect and try to get an uber-view. The quiet probably just means I'm missing something that will hit me like a freight train in a day or two. In the meantime, stay tuned and challenge authority. Oh yeah, and smile a lot, it helps.

Oops.... here are the photos

Please forgive me, and buy a mannequin.

This is one of my favorites. My former roommate is designing these really cool mannequins. (They are for sale...)

I've met a new friend who lives in my building. She's spanish, lives in Ibiza. She is in her second year running a company that has two boats she throws party cruises on, in and around the island of Ibiza, in the summer when it is season there. She is working here in the off months at the clubs making money in our season. She's been working very hard promoting her party boats, and has told me about her business. She is another person creating something with her hard work, immagination, and passion.

Tonight she told me I shouldn't be a waiter, essentially because I have a brain and a very positive energy. Her words... she said I should be making more money creating. I said I am a writer.

And I am a writer, sort of a philosopher, sort of a scientist, sort of a journalist, sort of a buddhist. I am sort of a lot of things. That's how I've been since I was a child driving my parents crazy because I skipped from one interest to another without building anything. But I was building a knowledge base. I still am.

I've had a couple careers, and have always done well, but I still haven't found it. I have honestly thrown myself into massage, counseling, science, mathematics, serving, hotel and restuarant management, the military. And even though each of those endevours is a real part of me, I'm not committed to any of them. It's like I learn what I need until life moves me somewhere else.

I look at the lives of people I know, love, and respect, who have stayed with one career, in one place. Nearly all of them have loving families that they support, and who support them. They have solidity, and they are part of the backbone of american society. And I'm just different. I've been called a con-man, and I've called myself a monk. And the truth is somewhere in between. I'm still exploring, not lost, just looking for my place.

I'm getting excited about some work I've been doing on a computer. Not my phone, a laptop. I've been increasingly paranoid about my eidentity and my lack of eprivacy. No doubt due, in no small part, to my ex-wife's 14 month spamming campaign against me. No, she hasn't stopped.

I'm not giving up this identity, but I am working on a private, and moderately secure platform that I can use to start working again. I know that's vague, but I'm afraid that's the way it has to be for now. To be truthful, I don't like the way people freely give up their privacy and make so much of their lives public. I have nothing to hide (I've sure said enough here to scare anyone away and disqualify myself from any public office), but I will tell you what I want to tell you when I want to tell you. There is a common feel to me between the facebookers and the fundamentalist [blank] (you name the extremist cause/religion). Social networks that want me to broadcast where I am, what I'm doing, what my interests are, where I eat, etc., etc., scare the hell out of me. With such a rich informational environment, am I the only one who worries about stalkers and serial killers? I will share all that stuff with my friends. The people I have met face-to-face, have shook hands, hugged, or kissed, and felt their energy. I don't make friends by clicking a button. I need to know a little more about you before I tell you everything about me.

I'm maybe a bit naive. I'm not in the scene. I'm just a guy trying to make it day by day. I have goals, I have friends, I have interests. But if you (I'm speaking to megacorporations here) want to know the details, you are going to have to ask me, first of all, and second, pay me for sharing my personal data. That is my elife, and you have no right to my personal information/habits/contacts/interests. So here is one of my points tonight; stop allowing big brother to make millions from the information he collects about your activities with absolutely no return compensation. In fact, some of you actually pay him for the service.

I am working on a private space where I can build a private database that I can use to write more effectively. Big things are happening in the world. I want to be a part of it. I just want to create a self that is relatively safe from eattack before I start to say what I want to say.

This posting is rambling and disorganized, and I'm not going to change it. That is the nature of this blog. I'm writing off the cuff, on my smart phone, about getting by day by day under difficult circumstances. The message is meant to be positive, I'm better off than so many. I want to transcend circumstance and speak to the common knowledge in all of us, no matter what our position in life.

I haven't written in several days, and writers have to write. They also have a predisposition toward self-condemnation. This posting sucks. If you have read all the way through it, I'm sorry. I will try to write again sooner, and better.

Hey, we all have off days, right?

One question

So much of life really comes down to one simple question. Do you believe that one man can make a difference?

Can you affect those around you in a positive manner, even if it means you have to deal with a for-real confrontation? Is there such thing as a fake confrontation? Yup, I think there is, and I think that most of the anger I see around me is better spent elsewhere.

I am talking about the difference between personal and community space now. My bed and dresser are my personal space. If I choose to keep that area in disorder, no one has a right to say otherwise. It is my space. It defines me.

The bathroom, the kitchen, and (to me) to a lesser extent, the TV viewing area (I never watch TV), are shared, community areas. In these spaces, you bring what you need, and clean up after yourself when you leave. Take only pictures, leave only footprints. And only leave footprints if you can't avoid it. I learned these things in kindergarten, high school, and the army. The United States Army. Does Haiti or Italy even have an army? I'm not casting dispersions, it is a serious question. The army is where I really learned how to be a man. I hope to be a good man. What social structure in those countries, and others, provides the same or equivalent training? Or do those countries believe that respectful co-existence is an unimportant topic? How do they learn how to do it?

I learned how to live in very tight quarters, peacefully, with a bunch of over-testosteroned men in the military. My current roommates don't have a clue, and they call me a "bully" for trying to project some order. The guy who stays in bed from 5am to 5pm (who knows where he is from 5pm to 5am) tells me I resent him because I am unhappy with myself. When is the last time I heard such unadulterated bullshit? I think it was around 8th grade. Grow up, make a life, stand for a cause you believe in... find a cause you believe in... figure out who you are, and then try to help someone else overcome their difficulties. There are plenty of worthy people trying hard to make ends meet. More than you can shake a stick at. But you have to find yourself first. If you can't take care of yourself, how can you expect anyone to trust you to take care of them? (And it is a process, not a destination. I haven't found IT yet).

I am trying to learn and understand. What is obvious to me may be ridiculous to my neighbor. The only way to find out is to talk. And sometimes you have to fight to clear the air and break down some fences before you can have any meaningful discussion. That is where I find myself now.

It is almost 3am, and I have already had a loud arguement with my hatian roommate. I am drinking water and coffee to clear my head while we wait for our sicilian roommate to come home. I hope he isn't drunk, and can talk. We need to all agree on some basic rules about what is and is not ok in our apartment; a closet that three men share. Talk about an unnatural situation...

I have the day off tomorrow, and I believe that my extremely good friend, and former roommate, will allow me to recouperate from a sleepless night in peace at her apartment. I am counting on it. If not, I will go to the beach. I love miami beach!

So I guess I'm back where I started. Can I make a positive difference, or does the energy I expend trying to help only create more disorder and chaos? Only time will tell, but stay tuned, and I will do my best to report my mistakes and my victories as honestly as I am capable of doing. History will judge. Ask only that my higher power will guide me instinctively, rather than my own self-centered consciousness. And so must it be, for the good of all, according to the free will of all, and so must it be.

What you feed will grow, part 2

Before I started work tonight, I was thinking about what I wanted to write after I finished. I decided I would make the subject "what you feed will grow", and I continued to mull it over and over, until it occurred to me that I think I have already used that title. So I searched my blog, and sure enough, it was a post from august 2010. Just about two months into my homeless-living-in-my-truck experience.

Things are different now, but the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Between then and now, I spent six months caretaking my friend's life while she was held first in jail, unjustly, and then in immigration detention. She finally was released, and I spent another three months nursing and supporting her until she was back to herself enough to kick me out. (I am so proud of her, I don't know if I could have re-cooped my own life as fast). The last three months have seen us transition from living together and seriously irritating each other, to living apart and maintaining a really cool and close friendship. Now that we don't have each other's neuroses in our respective faces, we are able to really enjoy the time that we choose to spend together.

So we were having dinner last night. We had just been disappointed again with a theft-of-wages hearing, and we were talking about what happens next. I told her how proud I am to be her friend, and how inspired I am to watch her artist inside come alive and come out, and really start producing some very cool pieces. She was still in a funk, and she replied "but that's only because of you" referring to how I try to support her. And I thought about that, a lot.

I have been helping her a lot. I do it because it makes me feel good. I like being considered strong and dependable. It is very different from my life just a few years ago. Yes, I have given her a good deal over the last year, but I think I have benefitted more than she has. She has a creative, artistic nature. I give her $20, and she finds a piece of someone else's trash, and converts into something worth $200-300. It is amazing.

And because I have chosen to support her, I have had to take care of myself. The first thing you learn in any medical or psychological or military profession is that you have to take care of yourself first. If you can't keep yourself healthy and strong, how can you expect to help anyone else become healthy and strong? It seems obvious, but so many people martyr themselves to get others to take care of them, instead of taking care of themselves. It is a subtle, but significant note on perspective in life.

So in the past three months, while my friend has regained her self, (she did all the work), I have turned my truck from a non-moving hazard into a solid and dependable form of transportation. There is still much to be done, but she (my truck) has definitely turned a corner. I was just given an awesome new, used bicycle. First owned by a japanese cycling enthusiast, then given to my israeli bartender friend; it is a touring bike, an itallian frame, very light, and very fast. She gave it to her boyfriend, who in turn, gave it to me after he bought a ducati (very high performance motorcycle). I put a little money into the bicycle to get it back on the road, and to make it secure, and I am totally happy with it.

I am in a cheap apartment. My new roommates and I have managed to struggle into a peaceful, moderately respectful, co-existence. The extra guys found their own apartment, got their car fixed, and have vacated the premises. The one remaining sicilian is young but hard working. Uncultured, but learning, and respectful. All 20 year old males have problems picking up after themselves. But don't think for a minute he's getting very much slack because of his age.

So I haven't saved much money yet. That was bothering me until I reflected on what I done over the past two months. I am actually building credit in life again. Not credit as in loans, but as in I have the tools I need to repair my truck and my bicycle, and my boat when it finally comes. You can't just leave on a circumnavigation on a whim, you have to provision first. Right now I am assembling the tools, the organization, the skills, and the relationships, that will move me onto a solid blue-water boat and get me safely from miami to san diego, via africa, india, australia, and hawaii.

Before I came back to south beach, I did my best to take care of a beautiful soul in a chihuahua's body named kenny, and a porch full of nice plants. Kenny got me here by giving up his life; a debt I can never repay. My plants, I think, have happy homes now. When I wrote that posting in august after I had just become homeless, I was feeding ideas. I had a vision, and not much else.

As I write this posting, I find I continue to feed the same ideas, but I am rich. I have tools and toys. And I have plans to get more of what I need so that I can better take care of those around me. My life has become heavier in that spiritual sense, and has materialized many of the things I knew would help me when I was lost in my addiction and depression. I have a long way to go, but I am now squarely on that road, trudging my way to happy destiny.

When it comes to money, and suburbia, and credit, I am still, as my friend says, seriously in the shit. But if you look at my standard of living, my relationships, and my ability to deal with life and it's ever changing stresses, I am rock solid. Yes, I still drink, I occassionally have altercations with others (nothing past verbal), but I do not use cocaine, and I do not hide from those who do choose to use. My peers, for the most part, love and respect me (as I do them), and I make new friendly aquaintences everyday. True friends are rare, but I have 3 or 4. Seriously, I am rich.

Two years ago I took a leap of faith... I jumped into the abyss and trusted that a net would appear. I am here now to tell you that it did. And the past two years have not been peaches and cream, crimson and clover. They have been hard, and everyday full of dhuki. But my higher power, the one I chose to form a personal relationship with, has never for an instant left my side. He carries me when I cannot carry myself. He does things that I cannot do for myself. And I do as much as I can for myself. I don't expect anything from anyone. But somehow, things ALWAYS work out. I have many to thank. I am almost always grateful (key word almost), bottom line though... find your own higher power, no matter what it is, and learn to trust it. Once you truely have that, you won't need anything else.

Things change. Every minute, every day. If you don't like things the way they are, change yourself, keep your head down, and wait for everyone else to dash themselves on the rocky cliffs of fortune. Keep your shit tight, and let others figure themselves out. That's my best advice at this point in my life. I hope it helps. Just don't forget that things change, and the more they change, the more they stay the same.

Cool breezes, and happy sailing!

The american dream

I had a severe American experience tonight. Tonight, the words "Don't tread on me" came into my life with a force I haven't experienced to date.

Believe it or not, my new hatian roommate came to me and essentially said, "look, these sicilians are going to run all over us if we don't make a stand". Our new roommate brought three friends who think that they have equal access to the apartment. The shower, the kitchen, the storage space, and the three of them are sleeping in a tiny Audi outside the apartment.

I saw it a day or two ago, but I've been working, and I figured there's no way they can make it more than two weeks. But my hatian friend, who is not working at the momemt, see's them come in and use the bathroom, pile their stuff up in the corners, and he's a little perturbed about the situation. So he overcomes his hatred of me and asks me to unleash a little whoopass on our new intruders.... just like I did on him and my other friend, john, the guy from arkansas, only two weeks ago...

Basically the situation is this; three adult men are supposed to share an approximately 450 sq. ft. space. We currently have six men in that space. One guy moved in and thought it would be okay to bring his three other friends. Really it isn't okay with the two of us who have found a way to pay our rents by ourselves. And despite all the friction between us in the last two weeks, we recognize that if we don't say something together, these six guys are going to run all over us and our personal space. We decided that we have the right to live in peace and to have a minimal amount of privacy.

So, what were the words? "Peace, prosperity, and the pursuit of happiness"? F**K yes, that is what we fought and died for, over 200 years ago, and I will be damned if I will let that essential freedom go by the wayside because I want to make my neighbor happy. I lived in my truck for four months, I lived in restuarant hell for as long, and another eight months to pay my dues to get to the point where I can save a little money. I have been here, in paradise, for almost two years, and I am finally making do.

The American dream is not that you come to this country and people fall over themselves to make you rich. The American Dream is that if you come here, and you work hard and smart, you can make a life for your CHILDREN. Not necessarily for your spoiled-ass self. DO SOMETHING FOR SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOUR self!

Wow.

Life is not about you. It isn't about ME. It is about taking care of others. Being a man means being a husband... helping something, or someone grow. Ask yourself who you feed. And please be honest with your answer. If you lie, you cheat yourself.

I may be totally off base here, but I think this is what my forefathers had in mind. I have never felt so american in my life, even though I have lived here all of my life. We made this country by making friends with others. Why do we now try so hard to exclude them?

P.S. the photo is of my favorite gay bar. Don't hate anyone.

Monday equals Friday for me

I have been in the buisness for 13 years now, and I think it is starting to affect my personality. Tonight I noticed that I compulsively made sure everything on the tables in my section was exactly the same, and perfectly positioned (emphasis on the word "compulsively")...

When I came home, I had a new roommate; a roughly 22 year old italian guy, who left his toiletries and personal items ALL over the bathroom. After I noted to my two questionable roommates that "this isn't going to work...", I tidied up a bit...

No one yelled at me, but the kid was sleeping.

I am also tuned-in to people's emotional responses like I haven't been since I was a helpless seven year old trying to cope with my mother's new gigantic husband who happened to have kind of an ugly problem with anger and control.

He is my brother's father, and maybe he is okay now, but honestly, I realy don't care to know. Let the dead stay dead. And rest in peace.

I noticed my personality change when I confronted my current roomate about his illeagal drug use. I gave ten years of my life to that bitch, and I refuse to have her anywhere near me again, in any form. I actually said "you'd better watch your fucking ass". I laugh at myself now, but I was, and am, totally serious. I'm not going back there ever again.

So I am finally relaxing. It is 2:30, and I plan to put my truck back together tomorrow afternoon. One 7/16 inch bolt stands between me and putting her back together. I'm buying a nutcracker for $11.99 in the morning, and that baby is comming off.

This is a long term project, but it is in progress. Someone told me she read my blog, from the beginning, that she is up to the point where I got my good job... and she liked it.

I do remember my opening prayer, and I continue to write with the hope that it will help, just a little, someone who finds themselves where I was a year and a half ago. It is kind of like the ship's journal of those poor guys who made it through an antartic winter on a sailboat a couple of hundred years ago. Sort of, but not quite...

Just met a guy who's from lower manhatten, currently doing lighting and sound for the local theater... life goes on, right?

Don't waste it.

We come in to this world alone, and we leave this world alone. What lies between those two events is your lifetime.

You are alone... now and forever. Friendship is a very nice buffer, but it changes nothing. No one lives your life but you... make it notable. Make it worthwhile. I suppose the next thing to say is carpe diem. Sieze the day.

Sieze the moment. They slip away so fast. Jackson Brown says that "in the end, it is just the blink of an eye", and I believe him. Things just go by faster and faster. When I was young, I thought I was faster than everything... now, I see that acceleration and velocity are an illusion. Truth exists only in the definition of x.

I'm depressed tonight. No worries, it happens. You can't have happy without sad. Yin and Yang. Make a cocoon and take a break. Every little thing gonna be alright. Talk soon :)

No picture tonight

It wouldn't be pretty. I just had a minor blowout. My apartment is a pig sty. I took the dirty dishes out of the sink and stacked them in the corner until whoever dirtied them can find the time to wash them. I took the disgusting garbage pail outside until I can wash it and put in a plastic liner. The trash on the counters, I threw away. The towel on the floor, I put by the door, in case any one wants to rescue it before it goes in the garbage. I put the plastic cup of soap in the bathroom and the dental picks in the medicine cabinet, I sanitized the sink, put the hair bands in the medicine cabinet, and threw away the hanger that had been straightened out and was being used as a crack pipe pusher. If you don't know what that is, believe me, you don't want to know. I also tossed the ashtray that was sitting on the toilet tank onto the stack of dirty dishes.

I was not quiet while I did all this. One of my roommates, the one who really shouldn't be there because he hasn't paid rent... was trying to sleep. I let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the place was gross, and while I will do some cleaning, I expect him to clean after himself. He replied that he doesn't live there. I told him, "then get the fuck out". He laughed. I told him that I appreciated him cleaning after I moved in, and that I would be speaking to our other roommate, who as far as I have seen, has done nothing more than take the trash out one time, in the morning. Then I went out for a beer, and to write.

I went to the miami boat show today. I bought a two day ticket, and attended four seminars. It was very cool, and very informative. I decided to not go tomorrow, to sleep in instead, and go again on Monday. I need to rest, so I can make money Saturday night, and a double on Sunday, and I don't have to be at work until 6 Monday. That will give me time tomorrow to get a pair of visegrips to remove the nut I stripped while I was disassembling the front of my truck engine last Wednesday, and play with reformatting the hard drive of my laptop, after I have slept in til 10 and probably finished the latest spy novel I've been reading. Oh yeah, and to tell my other roommate to start improving his hygene...

I'm tired, but I feel good. I don't have to live in a disgusting apartment. The other guy set the rules... we have the right to criticize infringements on our personal space. And leaving the bathroom and the kitchen disgusting definitely infringes on my space. I haven't even thought about cooking in that place yet, and you know how I love to cook. This isn't going to work, and since I am the only one working, I figure I have a little clout.

That's all I have to say tonight. Sorry about the missing picture, maybe I will post one next time of a beautiful sailboat that I could never in my life have. Or maybe it will be a picture of a clean apartment, or a beautiful sunset that I can have almost anytime I want it.

Life is good, stay tuned...

A "cockeral" is a baby rooster... I think

I have been married and divorced two times. I don't know if I will try it a third time, but at the moment there is only one person I would consider, and she is on the distant horizon. Not that I am much of a catch, ask my ex-wives.

I live in miami beach. South Beach, actually. This morning as I was doing my daily errands, I passed this cockeral (baby rooster chick... I think) on the sidewalk in a residential area. It is the first living poultry I have ever seen on the beach. When I lived in West Miami, 17 or so years ago, the roosters would wake me up... and that was in a nice suburban area, but never here on the beach. It crossed my mind that south beach, or sobe for short, is a very unique place, and I struggled with the right words to describe it.

The best I've come up with so far is that it is a confluence (a comming together) of first, second, and third worlds. What makes sobe unique from New York, and I assume L.A. and other major metropolitan areas, is that it is too small for there to be distinct burroughs or barios, and it is just barely big enough for there to be neighborhoods.

As a consequence, people from all over the world live right next to each other and pass each other in the street often enough to recognize each other. In New York, I loved to sit somewhere, anywhere, but especially around mid-town. I would watch a couple thousand people pass in about thirty minutes, and I recognized that there was a very high probability that I would never ever see any one of those people again in my entire life.

Here, you know the "mentally-challenged" homeless people, sometimes by name or by nickname. You watch them go through their up's and down's, and believe me, there are more crazy people here than you can shake a stick at. But there are also very cool, very gentle people. Artists, tradesmen, merchants, musicians, and one or two representatives of the people who aren't career politicians. And you might walk right by their sidewalk cafe table and never realize who you just passed. Or, you might see them over and over, and eventually find an excuse to meet and become life-long friends. Some of my very best life-long friends are people I met here.

Another consequence, and I have talked about this before, is that because we are so heterogeneous, the residents (not necessarily the visitors) have developed extreme tolerance and respect for cultural differences. Instead of saying "you're in america, speak english", they try to learn the essential words to communicate in as many languages as they can. In fact, in my experience, it is the immigrants who have come here and learned english who are the most indignant when someone demands that you speak spanish, or italian. To their credit, the french try very hard to speak english, and they often are very pleased when you try to speak to them in their own language. Of course, you have to say right off the bat that you really don't know how to speak their language. And come to think of it, most people from latin countries and even from italy, warm to the same approach. That said, I will repeat that there are cool people of all colors in all races, and there are also assholes of all colors in all races.

I am not a catch because I live on the fringes of society, often with little or no money. I have gotten used to it, and I have come to trust my higher power to always take care of me as long as I do my best to take care of myself. Don't buy stuff you don't need, don't waste what you have, and never, ever, buy on credit. Read my blog from the beginning, and I hope you will see many examples.

I live on the fringe because I like it, it keeps me alive, and alert, and almost always grateful. In my first marriage, in my 20's, I "fell asleep". I developed a routine that I was comfortable with, I used my awareness to head off any threats to my comfortable routine, and I followed my habits, even down to sex, to the point where years passed without me really noticing. I woke up when I realized my wife had fallen in love with another man, and no matter how much she regretted it and didn't want to hurt me, she was no longer mine, her heart belonged to him. (By her choice, and I bear her no grudge. It was the event that threw my life into turmoil and allowed me to finally, I hope, have awakened in my late forties to what a beautiful thing my life really is.)

My second wife was not capable of loving me. It wasn't necessarily a fault in her, it was simply a folie a deux (as my last therapist described it). But I loved her, and I was willing to blunt my needs for passion with some serious IV cocaine abuse. Eventually, I left (it was either leave or kill myself by overdose), but then cocaine became my significant other. It took me ten long years to finally drop that woman.

My former roommate and dear friend who gave me a place to recover, and allowed me to take care of her life for six months while she came from "illegal" to "being processed" will remain a friend for life. We have disengaged to the point of mutual comfort and agreement. We live seperately, but we see each other often. We were never meant to be lovers, we never tried it, and we have both become strong enough on our own to remain very good friends. It was "by chance" that we met, but I don't believe in coincidence.

Finally, the woman who was the catalyst for me to transform my existenct from being a functioning but stalled addict, back to being a dependable and productive, goal-oriented, able to plan and move forward through intermediate goals person, was my soulmate. She is the woman on the horizon. She is doing the same thing with her life, but she has a husband and children of her own, making things a couple orders of magnitude more complicated and difficult.

Women, women, women... it's biology, man. Continuation of the species. I can't speak to homosexuality, but to me it is as normal and natural as heterosexuality. If homosexuals dominated the planet, we wouldn't have to worry about the population explosion, we would be a much more loving and tolerant society, and we would probably all be healthier and dress better. Unfortunately, I just can't get my head around kissing a man. I like women. That's my flavor, and everyone is entitled to their own personal flavor.

So, first, second, and third worlds... we all live here together. We all get stressed and become irritable sometimes. The people I like, and who I keep close to me, get over it and apologize. They respond to a smile and a hug, and I have been both the giver and the reciever several times in the last year and a half that I have been home. This is my home. Until I get my boat this summer and sail further south to probably less forgiving and more nationalist peoples. Everything happens the way it is supposed to. I am still in training. More of an internship really, because I do get the chance to help people along my way.

Be real, be happy, have fun, and don't fall asleep. Oh, and I miss my guitar so much. Maybe soon... :)

Happy trails to you, until we meet again...

Welp, two days at my new digs, and I'm back to work. Tonight it rained like it was summer time. Tropical. Fortunately, I had the inside station, so I made a little money. I was the only one though. Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you're not. Who said chance favors the prepared mind?

I am sharing a studio with two guys I met two days ago when I moved in. They are both kids; twenties, both are unemployed, both, I think, smoke pot but nothing else. No problems so far. I had a misunderstanding this afternoon with one of them, but I think it's cool now. I think he's hatian (he speaks french, and doesn't understand me when I talk too fast... we didn't have the sit-down over heinekens). He was about to shower, I said I needed the shower soon to go to work. He thought I meant now, but I wasn't going to be ready for 10 min. or so. He didn't understand that I was fine with him showering first, (my failure to communicate), and after I finished my phone call and he got out of the shower, he was pissed that I ignored his gesture of politeness. My bad, sorry about that, when you first begin to live with people you have to expect to bump into each other and accidentally step on a toe or two until you learn how your new roommates function. Still, I'm not ready yet to bring any valuables here.

My former roommate and very good friend and I spent a lot of time together over my two days off. We needed to clear the air between us. She cried twice because she thinks she has put me in a bad sittuation. I tried very hard to make her understand that this is exactly where I want to be. No, I don't recommend this to the average viewer... don't try this at home... but look at my situation. I have a great job where I am making good money all year. I am making almost as much as I did as an hotel operations manager. My truck loan is paid off, I can cover all of my bills now (including rent) in about a week and a half. These guys can stay or leave, I don't care. I have a place to live where it is dry, a marginal kitchen, relatively clean, and I can walk to work in less time than it takes to smoke one cigarette. Six months, and I will have my boat, if not before. I can drink now, keep my beers in the refridgerator, and now that I can, maybe I won't.

I need to start exercising again. I miss my guitar. Everything is going to be just fine, and I am in a happy space while my life sorts itself out. Time for bed. Tomorrow is my Monday, where I cram five shifts into three days. Monday is my Friday. Tuesday is my weekend. One thing at a time, one day at a time, and everything really does work out, because I have some Good Orderly Direction... figure that one out.

One day past the full moon

Well, here I am in my new place. It feels weird, of course. I slept in the same bed for a year and a half, and despite the drama and the constant change, it was always the same bed.

Tonight I will sleep in a new bed, with no Billy the jack russel to snuggle with me. I miss him, and I know he is sad without me.

My friend and I had dinner tonight after I moved out. It was a shock to suddenly be seperate, and I think we both needed to reaffirm our friendship. We have been an odd couple for the last two years, almost. Seperating, I think, will preserve our friendship. If we had continued to live together we would eventually have ended up hating each other. This way we can still be friends.

My new roommates seem okay. They are just kids, we'll see what happens.

I guess I don't have anything to say tonight. I am in a new space, my life has just taken a turn, and I am busy living it. Everything gonna be alright, for sure. My soulmate didn't call me today, but I know she's on her way back to me. I don't feel it, but I am willing to believe it.

Guess I'm just checking in tonight. Tune in again tomrrow... same bat-time, same bat-channel... and be good to yourself and those close to you.

Go slow, and pay for your parking.

Good advice, I think. I'm still trying to learn the subtlties of this rule.

It is time to restart my blog for real! Tomorrow I leave the nest I've lived in for the last 15 months, and strike out on my own again on my quest for the liveaboard sailboat that will carry me on my first circumnavigation! This is an augural event. Go slow, and pay as you go are my watch words.

My roommate is almost four months out of detention now. She has almost completely recovered from the trauma. She has finally kicked me out for real, and I am so pleased.

She has taken back control of her life, and has found sources of support other than me. She and I are really good friends, and totally incompatible as partners. She is an artist. Her medium is the physical; color, form, fung shue. I am an artist. My medium is words, images, function below form. She is a chic Parisian lesbian mother of two beautiful young men. I am a single buddhist soldier, forever loving Jah. She is always cool, I am always the same. You get the picture.

Man, when god moves, he moves. He tells me I am on the right track by manifesting exactly the right number of knives and forks for the roll-ups that are my daily side-work (100 forks, 50 knives, 50 napkins). I grab a handful of each out of the drawer and start rolling. Imagine how it feels 15 minutes later when I have a stack of 50 roll ups infront of me, and no excess anything!?! That happens a lot.

Some people feel god when they find dimes, I feel god when curious combinations of random numbers suddenly come together to equal zero, null, or one, unity.

Today I paid my rent, no deposit, all included, to live in a large studio apartment, with two other men that I don't know, for one month. One block from my job, no lease, and half what I have been paying for the last 15 months. Woohoo! Alright, so I have to live with a couple stinky guys, who may or may not have good character, but hey, I lived in my truck for four months. I went through basic training and was in the army (national guard) for six YEARS. I can handle six months in a crowded, but cush studio with 100 free tv channels, and free wifi access. Piece of cake. I can stand on my head for six months.

I just met my new roommates this morning when I picked up my keys. They seem ok. A little sketchy, but I won't be bringing any valuables, and some of my closest friends in georgia were homeless crackheads. So I figure tomorrow after I move in, I'll buy a 12-pack of heineken, and we will get to know each other and set some boundaries. Seriously, this place is an extended-stay hostel, and they are both unemployed. So if they have no fortitude, I will be the old guy with a couple newbys in a month. If they happen to be able to stick it out that long, we will probably become lifelong friends.

My roommate and I are "parting" friends. I am going to give her a little money every month to keep my parking space at her apartment. She has told me I can leave some things inside her apartment, and I really hope to have dinner with her and our slovak friend after I have moved out, and she has moved in. I'm telling you, god has got it ALL under control, and everything will work out just fine if you can check your ego, and make amends for the mistakes that you will inevitably make.

I am FINALLY in the position that I wanted to be in, a year and a half ago, when I moved down here; I have a super-cheap, but livable place to stay, I have a kick-ass job that I love, and I am making bank every week. There are boats-a-plenty around here, cheap. I think I am about 90 miles from Bimini, about three hours, by car, from Key West. I have almost zero commitments, besides my job, my integrity, and my friends.

It is 07 Feb 2012, the high today was about 78, the low will be about 69, Farenheit. I am 48 years old, I have a soulmate who may come back to me at about the same time I get my boat. (I received an email from her right after I started this posting... Thank you, God!!). And I have a loving, generous higher power who takes care of me in very small, and very BIG ways.

I'm not practising my guitar at the moment because I need to unlearn my bad habits before I start to take lessons. Guitar stays here until I can trust my new roommates.

I almost got involved in the re-election campaign of my friend, the mayor of South Miami (I'm so proud of him), before my truck had a catastrophic failure. But no worries, I have the means to fix it next week. My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades!

I think that's it for tonight. I thought this would be a short post, but I find that I still have so much left to talk about. I have one beer left that I need to drink while winding down, so I can sleep tonight, so I can move out tomorrow, so I can buy my boat, so I can have a new nest when my baby finally comes back to me, so we can drink frozen daquries at sunset in Martinique at sunset three years from this very moment... I can go to sleep with that thought.

Stay tuned blogland, the best is yet to come :)

I'm the ugly one on the right...

I bought myself a used bicycle about two weeks before christmas. Someone stole it about a week ago. I had it locked infront of the apartment where I always do, chained with one of those coiled steel cable locks that open with a combination. Four digits, 9999 possible combinations, and mine was nowhere near 1 or 9999. When I woke up in the morning, the bike and the lock were gone.

I was upset, but knew there was nothing I could do to get it back, so I set about accepting, and getting over it. I had to walk 15 minutes to work instead of biking five. My roommate and our friend bought bikes at the same time, now I can't ride places with them. I will buy another one sometime before too long, and I will get one of those alloy U-locks that lock the crossbar with a key. I hate keys, but those locks seem to be the best.

It is a week later, and I still find myself getting angry about it. To me, that's a signal that there is something I need to pay attention to. Anger let's you know something is wrong, so you can do something about it. There is nothing for me to do, so why am I getting angry? Will whatever is behind the anger come out sometime in some inappropriate and destructive manner?

So I was walking home from work tonight, felt angry, noticed I felt angry, and wondered why I was still angry. What comes to mind when I allow myself to feel the anger?

I am walking and I am tired. It was so nice to leisurely ride home and be there in five minutes. Someone has made my tired old body work harder, and made the beach less accessable to me... Can I let that go? Maybe there was a good reason why my bike was stolen. Maybe the increase in exercize is what I need to keep lung cancer or a stroke at bay. I actually like walking, I will buy another bike soon, so yeah, I can let that go... is there still anger? Yup.

Okay, what's it feel like? Someone stole my property. I work hard for my money, it isn't right for someone else to take what I have earned, when I haven't freely given it to them. It isn't fair. Yeah, that's closer. It resonates more. Can I let that go? ... Life isn't fair. Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. Possession and ownership are illusions and fleeting. Life is basically unsatisfactory (dhuky). These are core beliefs of mine, so yes, I can let that go too... is there still anger? ... Yup.

What does it feel like? It hurts. I loved that beat up old bike that I thought no one would want to steal. I bought it for myself. The first thing, other than clothes for work and stuff I had to have, that I've bought myself in a very long time. The last thing I can remember buying for myself is a Nikon digital SLR. Beautiful camera. I bought it in 2007... it was stolen by movers when I was transferred from philly to atlanta. God that hurt, it still hurts... now we're getting somewhere.

I bought that bicycle as a present for myself, because I felt like I deserved it. It only cost $55. Having it stolen made me feel like I didn't deserve to have it. I can kind of understand a $2000 camera that I bought on credit being taken from me, but a $55 bicycle that I paid cash for?!?

If this isn't the bottom of the anger, it is atleast significant. Fear is always behind anger. I am affraid I am unworthy of having anything nice. Wow, that almost makes me want to cry... can I let that go?

I am mostly a good person. I am not perfect, I make mistakes. I can be selfish and uncaring. But most of the time, I try to be kind, generous, considerate, and loving. People treat me in such a way that I believe they mostly feel those good things from me. I don't feel guilt very often, and when I do, I try to make appropriate amends. So, maybe I am good enough to deserve a bike and other nice things. Maybe I have a conceptual error; maybe having nice things has nothing to do with deserving them. That's gotta be true, if I take one look around me. But just because other people, bad people have nice things doesn't mean I am like them. In fact, maybe having nice things makes you bad? Afterall, I really don't need anything I don't already have...

Do I still feel anger? No, I feel naked. Can I deal with that? Being naked is better than being angry, so yes I can. Have I gotten to the bottom? I don't know. I won't know until I feel angry again, remind myself that I am okay, deserve love, and see if the anger disappears. But for tonight, that's enough. One psychic surgery at a time is all I can handle.

Life is good. I am cultivating inner peace by pulling one angry, greedy, lazy, prideful, lustful, envious, or gluttonous weed at a time.

I love you, but I'm still working on loving myself. Good night :)

Fwd: Sorry, no picture tonight :)

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "mark kilburn" <mkilbu01@gmail.com>
Date: Jan 3, 2012 10:15 PM
Subject: Sorry, no picture tonight :)
To: "go@blogspot.com" <go@blogspot.com>

I am not far enough South yet! Yesterday was the beginning of the first cold front of the season for miami beach. Tonight the forecasted low is 39 F. That is simply uncivilized to me, and while I know my friends and family up North and out West are chuckling at me while they endure snow and sub-freezing temperatures, I live (by choice, I might add...) on a sub-tropical latitude.

So here, we get two months or so of chilly weather, with three day bursts of what I call cold weather (read lows in the 40's, or... brrr... in the high 30's) in a kind of Gaussian pattern centered around the first of february. Translation: january and february are my least favorite months here, and I am really happy when we get our first 80 degree day sometime in the beginning of march. December this year was incredible! Last year I was shivering before christmas, today is 3 jan 12. A blessed four week reprieve to the onset of winter.

But the first cold snap of the season is not the real reason I am writing tonight. The last two weeks, christmas through the new year and the surrounding days, are what they call "high season" here. These 14-21 days (depending on when they fall) are the among the busiest of the year. Holloween is, I think, acually the busiest day, but I'm talking about weeks now. People from mostly the Northeast, the Midwest, and Western Europe all plan their holiday vacations with their spoiled, obnoxious children for a week or so in sunny miami. Or, the barely legal prodgeny of the aforementioned parents, plan their holiday break in South Beach, where else? So they can start next semester with a hangover and a good tan...

I actually am enjoying the first day of three glorious days off, the first multiple day-off week since Thanksgiving. But even that is not what I really want to write about tonight.

Tonight I had a chance to read the news from multiple sources for the first time in three weeks. I had a serious existential conversation with two of my closest friends about what is the most effective way to positively influence the world, and as I sit on my porch wearing a blanket over my head to keep warm, I just had an altercation with a wandering drunk who wanted a cigarette and some of my wine. He got some harsh words instead, and I got another thump on the head from god telling me to get to the point.

I am a staunch democrat. To me, that means I expect the money I pay in taxes, and I don't mind paying a little more, to be used to help the people I can't help myself. I consider taking care of my little corner of the world; loving my family and my neighbor, and treating them as I would have them treat me, to be beyond politics. This is the core of a GOOD existence. I don't care if you are republican, democrat, independant, socialist, liberal, communist, or nazi, you must take care of first yourself, and then ALL of those around you (to the best of your god-given ability).

Once you have that little primary directive squared away, then you can start talking about your politics. To me, that means how the money I give to the government that represents me both nationally and internationally, is spent. In this respect, I am a democrat.

My friends cornered me a week ago to tell me about a Belgian family that kept their kids in the basement and sexually and emotionally abused them for 20 years, and my friends were outraged when I didn't really show any emotional response whatsoever.

I met a man in the keys, about 20 years ago, who shocked me by telling me that he never watched the news. I was a CNN junkie back when it was only headline news. His name was Ray, or David, depending on whether he trusted you or not, and he said the news was all about stuff he couldn't change, and his life didn't change whether he watched it or not. I was flabbergasted, but I never forgot his words.

Over the last 20 years I have come to realize that he spoke a TRUTH to me. There are way too many things; ugly, nasty things in this world that I can never change. I told my two friends tonight that I see evil, selfishness, and greed everyday, here, now, at work, and on the street. Every day, I try to radiate love and peace, I curb my negative instincts, and try to help those close to me want to do the same. It is up to them. It is up to you and to me, how much energy we want to spend on this peace/god/love thing. To be honest, I've lapsed a little over the past two weeks.

AA has a saying; hungry, angry, lonely, tired. HALT. When you feel those things, even one, stop and check yourself because your next stop could be a liquor store, or an altercation with your employer, or your neighbor... get the picture?

Well, I've been tired, and angry, and with the holidays, lonely. I haven't even thought of using, but I haven't thought about much besides myself either.

Tonight I woke up. I made it through the "holidays", again. I played my guitar today for the first time in almost a week, and I reclaimed myself. I am a buddhist, an artist, a democrat, and I believe and trust that there is a god who takes care of me even when I can't.

I promise to never stop trying to take care of my corner of the world. It makes me a little sick to give this credit, but George Bush Sr. got it partially right with his "thousand points of light" idea. Problem was that he forgot that there is a world beyond my sphere of influence that I pay our perverted, yet duly elected, representatives to handle for me. I expect the philosophy of love and respect, that I strive to live by, day in and day out, in south miami beach, to be the same code that we, as a nation, participate in what is so clearly a global community in all that the label entails.

There is a major evolution of human society taking place around us as I speak. We are decades away, as a society, from catching up with the technology that has made "nation" an outdated concept. We are not americans, armenians, brits, belgians, russians, nor africans anymore. We are Earthlings. Within the next 10 years, yes, by the time I am 58, we will find life outside our galaxy. Then or diplomatic skills will really come to the test.

I pay taxes with the expectation that those around me also take care of their families and their neighbors to the best of their abilities. It is only an expectation, and I recognize that sloth, one of the seven deadly sins, is pervasive in my nation, and my culture. I am one voice. And I am imperfect.

It is 55 F at 22:02, and dropping. Some would wish they were here, others are glad they are not. I am reclaiming my love for this planet and it's humanity, while I reserve the right to be a crotchety old bastard when I want, because I am pretty sure, I've earned the right. I will gladly take critiques from anyone, but I will receive it better if you are older than me.

Sorry no pictures tonight. I love you.

Oh yeah, and as for homeless people like I once was, do what I did, play to your strengths, trust in god, and don't ask me for any more cigarettes. I bummed ONE cigarette in four months of being homeless. It isn't about need, it is about motivation. Do something!