There are two kinds of money:

The value of scriptural money is not questioned.

Mohnkuchen Rocks!

I’m a little concerned that in our zeal to cut off funding available to Al-Qaeda rebels by destroying poppy crops in Afganistan that we will in advertantly drive up the cost of poppy seed cake forcing me to ration my enjoyment of this German delicacy.

The Workout Mentality
It’s good to be in the gym again. I know that fitness is essential to my recovery, peace of mind, and sense of self. Good to be alive today.

My Heart Wants Apple Pie
Tart au pommes is how it is spoken and served at this little diner in Brussels, Belgium. French is a narcotic language, like sugar on the tongue the sound to the ear. I want more. The experience of drinking it in has been intoxicating thus far. “Excuser moi, je vousdrai savoir ou sont les train,” was taught to me by my beautiful little Belgium friend Audrey. The 16-year old schoolgirl spelled out the sentence for me on my new iPhone on the train from Brugelette to Brussels. I hope I see her again when she is older and I am younger

Thank you, Audrey…

Note to self…

Next time I find a quaint little dinner on the corner of a little side street in Brussels, order the pie. Diner food has diner quality the wide world over – November 8, 2009

I’d like to feel connected
I would like to live free, free from the expectations and intentions of others. I’d like to have a group of friends who like to see me, who I like to see, but don’t feel obligated to spend time with.

I’d like to work.
I like to have opportunity to be with interesting people, talk about subjects of interests, create projects and hold each other to completion. I’d like to be a part of a creative team, where I don’t have to question my role, where I feel like integral part no less than any other member. I’d like to feel like I a part of something that has a real impact on the betterment of the participants and the world in general. I’d like my individual experience and attributed to be recognized and highly prized, highly valued. I’d like to be valued for just being me. I’d like to be able to participate in this group at any time or place that I choose. I’d like to have the time to decide what I want and realized my preferences.

I’d like to be in a loving relationship.
I’d like to share authority without feeling like I’m losing my sense of self, my intuitive sense of what is right and wrong for me. I’d like to feel strong and in charge. I’d like to know that things are exactly the way I’ve planned. I’d like a feeling of satisfaction. I’d like to know that it has all been worth it.

Funny how life works out.
I found this file this morning. I’m living like this more and more everyday. Funny how dreams come true when you stay focused on them. Reading this was a good reminder and a way to stay on course.

I’d like to be highly compensated for my work. Probably why I’m pursuing my masters degree… I forgot to write that. I’d like to be highly compensated for my work soon.

How would you like to live? Leave a comment…

“I think the combination of age and the greater coming together is responsible for the speed of the passing time. it’s six months now and i can tell you truthfully few periods in my life have passed so quickly. i am in excellent physical and emotional health. there are doubtless subtle surprises ahead but i feel secure and ready.

As lovers will contrast their emotions in times of crisis, so am i dealing with my environment. in the indifferent brutality, incessant noise, the experimental chemistry of food, the ravings of lost hysterical men, i can act with clarity and meaning. i am deliberate–sometimes even calculating–seldom employing histrionics except as a test of the reactions of others. i read much, exercise, talk to guards and inmates, feeling for the inevitable direction of my life.”

On August 28, 2000, a Federal judge awarded $8 million to the survivors of the Attica riots. The son of Sam Melville, Josh Melville, was awarded $25,000.

We could write for years (and perhaps we have) about the taste of honey on the tongue or the feeling of biting into a juicy ripe orange on a hot summer day, but reading words about honey on the tip of ones tongue and the squirt of the first bite of an orange are not the same as the experience. Those who feel love know love. But the love we speak and hear so much about masquerades as love when it is really the absence of love. Love need not be pain, but the journey through our suffering often leads us to a love we might have never recognized before the journey.

She is such a beauty sometimes…

I really love her. I’m enjoying exploring my love for her. It has depth and variety, this love. At times I love her like the good daughter. At times she is my sister playmate. At times she ravages relentlessly, a lover who will not be denied. At times she mothers, coos and frets, “Is that shirt too warm? Did you get enough to eat?” I love my Tina. She’s a gem.

Tina is a natural lover. It’s like she’s been looking for someone to love her entire life and I’m the luck guy she get to ply her tricks on. She’s amazing. I can’t say enough about her. Top marks for love for Tina.

“You need space. You got it.” that’s Tina.

Tina brings love. She doesn’t need love. She appreciates love and recognizes love because she has love. I blame her family for loving her thoroughly. She has the kind of father I’d like to be. Her father (this is my imagination) let her know what it felt like to be loved by man, so she could recognized and reciprocate. Big up to the Balzer family.

I love Tina.

This sucks. I smoked a cigarette. Fuck!

I was sitting in a cafe, lighting up the cigarette thinking, “Good, only a five-cigarette pack, I can manage this. And maybe if I can manage this, I’ll buy a beer next.” Shit. Have I not learn any lessons from my past? I’m obviously suffering. The cigarette hit me like reality. There is definitely a problem that I am not dealing with here. I know what it is and ready or not I have to start doing something to deal with it.

I called my sponsor. I have to admit he earned his keep. I might have done something stupid. Who knows? I still might. I losing touch with what stupid is lately. I need to stop. This kind of language fucks me up. It speaks of a astounding disconnection with God, with the God who loves me. I am not stupid. I’m pretty smart, too fucking smart actually. Maybe I’ll learn something from all this. That would be nice.

What do I do with all the torturous tumult within? I guess I’ll play some bass, because I don’t want to kill the bitch or do something stupid that will land me in jail again. I have a lot of work to do. I’ll do it, but damn I’m glad I have help.

Thank God.

Amen.