KITCHEN PORN

You don’t see them too often in kitchens, the duck press, but if you have a couple of mallards to cook for your girl, then after roasting the bird and making the stock you will want to introduce the remaining carcass to this utensil, and extract the last drop of all the wonderful juices the bird has to offer, adding it to your stock to reduce further with a few currants. The bird should be roasted quickly, fast enough to brown and crisp the skin, yet leave the wonderful breast rare and rosy inside. Wild rice will go nicely, and after such a rich dinner your eyes may glaze a bit as you recline on the lounge, wishing and hoping she will put her tits in your face.

ON THE CORNER OF FOURTH AND WALNUT

Every year I start looking for a Christmas story. Some years they just fall in your lap. Some years they don’t form up until after the New Year. Last year, I didn’t have one at all. I’m going to force it a little this year.

I was at Luby’s last week. There was a couple sitting by the window. They sat across from each other, but it seemed like they were holding feet. Their feet were touching, they were laughing smiling, genuinely enjoying each others company. I went into one of my day dreams. What are they talking about? Certainly Christmas, as it is upon us. Where to hang the lights, how nice the tree looked, going to visit her parents next week, what to get the kids, its such a busy season with relatives coming, what to buy for her brother who is so hard to shop for, the funny guy at the office party, and where did all the money go? All these things crossed my mind inside of ten seconds.

I thought how easy it is to fall in love with people.
That seems to have been the theme this year.
How connected we all are, in spite of our differences.
Someday darlings, everything we know will go to
dust. All we will have left is the joy and smiles we brought to each other.
The enchantment we allowed ourselves to feel. How fabulous it is to put someone in front of yourself.
I don’t know how many times my heart swelled from the simplest gestures I made to the world.
A smile. A thank you. A nod.
To give and give until the giving feels like receiving.

Funny. I had all my shopping done. But I went
again yesterday. Just to be a part of the world.
There was an itsy bitsy girl the big ear muffs with little kitty ears.
A shiny gold jacket with boots to match, and a fabulous glittery purse. I looked down.
“I love your ear muffs “ I said.
She looked so pleased.
It reminded me of the older lady at the Subway, when I commented on her brooch.
“Its lovely” I said.
She smiled and touched it lightly. A gift from her late husband.
It was like she waited all day for someone to say something, and I was so pleased that it could be me.
Now I asked little kitty ears if she was ready for Christmas. “Santa is bringing me lots of presents!” she said.
A true believer.
Being a part of this world. I could do it all day. I was missing for so long.
Of course it doesn’t seem as big today, trying to write it down for you. I can only
hope you already know.

I keep a Thomas Merton in my mind. He does it better.

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race … there is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.
I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all of the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed…”

~ Thomas Merton from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

WE DO RECOVER

Oh yes, The Nostalgia of moving day. I ran across old pictures, an electric bill from 2007, The cool Rock I found at Toledo Bend lake in 1969, the rear view mirror off my 84 Toyota van, a greeting card with a Guy Clark lyric from Tim Burns, my sister's Bedford Junior High yearbook from 1970, a 1983 phone book for HEB, a single dried red rose (I can't remember its origin, but I've saved it, tenderly, and I'm sure it will come to me one day), my dad's four sets of cufflinks, half of a snickerdoodle cookie, the letter from my mother to my aunt describing how I stood in the corner for 5 hours before apologizing to my mother for having spit in her face, and this, pictured, my first payment towards probation. I should have it framed.
We do recover.

ITS NOT ANYTHING CHILDREN SHOULD SEE

Here in Texas a lot of people have taken to putting out inflatable decorations. Santa, and a sled, and reindeer and elves, made like big balloons with lights in them flying across the front yards, and an extension cord trailing into the garage that supplies electricity to a pump that presumably keeps air going into the inflatables and lights the lights inside Santa and his compadres'.

The thing is, these things must be on a timer, because the festive scene you passed by the night before, the next morning looks like a crime scene. Santa, his reindeer and elves, and the big green letters that spell out HO-HO-HO are laying slaughtered on the lawn, airless and deflated like characters out of Flatland. They are dead and cold and covered with Jack Frost, and its really nothing you want to see first thing in the morning. Very sad.


Thank God they dont have them for Valentines Day.

BULLETHOLES BUYS A HOUSE!

I moved into my new house a few days ago. It needs a little TLC. And curtains. I woke up last night at 3 am, thinking about the damn closet light that wont come on. I went in the kitchen, bare beamed and buck naked, got a butter knife, took the cover off the closet light switch, crossed the terminals with the butter knife and the light came on! Top wire was a little loose. Project complete!
Tonight I plan to tackle the doorbell. If anyone wants to stop by, or wants to learn about how a doorbell works, the show starts at Midnight.

THE ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS

Last Minute Gift Ideas From The Island of Misfit Toys.
A water gun that shoots jelly! I’d love a water gun that shoots jelly. Imagine the fun you could have with a gun like this, a box of Bisquick, and a couple of Lithuanian redheads. Sounds like one hell of a weekend.
Or you could just not put jelly in it.

MY CONFESSION

Every year I post this pic because it makes me happy, makes me want to decorate something, and every year Facebook, because of some kind of ridiculous Community Standards, sees fit to take such a wonderful image down. 


“How do I usually Christmas shop? Well, usually about December 23rd, when there is no moon, I go to Walmart, and wander lonely haggard through the aisles; I search and search, and find nothing. I find nothing, because mine is not a shopping trip, it is a confession. It is like sitting in a darkened booth adjacent to a priest, surrounded by lights and trees and fake snow; amidst beautiful ornaments and twinkle-lites and glitter; there is wrapping paper with happy little snowmen that I can’t afford (I suck at wrapping anyway) and smiling faces everywhere that puzzle me; it is a money shuffle where the plastic reindeer are marked down at midnight and everyone not smiling is in a hurry, in a hurry to a confession of their own, and my confession is that I do not know how to act around all this gaiety, all this capitalism, all this tinsel.
So I'm sad, very sad, and come Christmas Day I just want to scream like I'm at Gitmo.
 When I break it down, I don't even know who I need to buy for and I wouldn't have a clue what to get them if I did. Its the most confusing time of the year”

WHEN DAVE AND I WENT TO KANSAS CITY

Steve to Dave

Remember how when we got to Sprint Center, just before we got in line for the show, and I discovered the Black Sabbath tickets weren't in my pocket? That the possibility existed I had left them at the hotel, or lost them at the Wendy's where we stopped to eat? And we had to go back to the car, hoping against all hope they were in the car?
That's as close to breaking into a full run as I've been in years.



Dave to Steve

You're such a mess, Steve Renfro! I said  that you understand me better than anyone else, but as a person who goes through a mental checklist before even getting up from a toilet, I admit that I still don't quite understand you. While I worry every second of every minute of every day, asleep or awake, it's as if you never worry at all. That is until you realize the Sabbath tickets aren't in your pocket, then all the worrying you should have been doing for the last several days kicks in in one giant cardiac event. I'm sure I was laughing when you broke into a dead run in that parking garage, your giant head engorged with bright red blood like a bloated tick. Comical terror!

ON INTENT

I got this story from a long time ago I sent to the House Committee. They are probably saving it for the Senate. I’ll give you the short version.
Back when I lived on Lancaster a friend of mine and his wife came over on New Years Eve for a couple minutes. They had a Corvette with a T Top and it was a nice night, so they had the T Top off. When they left, they spotted one of the local girls working the street. They pulled over, and they asked her how much it would be to have a go with the two of them.
Now, I cant hardly blame them. This particular girl wasn’t one of the regular girls. She was especially good looking, thick wavy hair, and a marvelous way of walking and tossing that hair. Real clean too. I’d even had a conversation with her one day, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

So my friend and his wife ask how much it would be for a go with the both of them.

And the next thing you know, they were surrounded by 10 cop cars and spent the night in jail.

Its seems that clean looking hooker was a cop.

True story.

MY GRANDPA LOOKS LIKE A BAD ASS

Think back

Back to my father and his father

And his father before

Then further past the eons

Think back

And see

Adam now, taking a bite of the apple.

Bulletholes, 11/25/2019 

WINDOWS MISSED

"It is not so much that the boat passed
and you failed to notice it.
It is more like the boat stopping
directly outside your bedroom window,
the captain blowing the signal-horn,
the band playing a rousing march.
The boat shouted, waving bright flags,
its silver hull blinding in the sunlight.
But you had this idea you were going by train.
You kept checking the time-table,
digging for tracks.
And the boat got tired of you,
so tired it pulled up the anchor
and raised the ramp.
The boat bobbed into the distance,
shrinking like a toy—
at which point you probably realized

you had always loved the sea."

Naomi Shabib-Nye

LETTERS TO JAIL

Hey Clark!
Back about 10 years ago I went to the Green Bay unit to visit my son. While I was waiting for him to come out I saw you in line behind the window, waiting I suppose for a visitor.
Over the years I would check the TDCJ website and see what your status was. As always, following you was very entertaining. It seemed like any time I was compelled to look, you would be back in. Maybe it was just bad luck, if you believe in that kind of thing.

So New Years Eve last year my son called me. I friend of his had OD'd. We talked for a while. Every now and then when I would talk to my son about dope, your name would come up. I think it was the next day that I went on to the website, and Holy Shit, you'd been busted the night before.
Damn son, you just cant seem to stay out of Jail!
Anyway, I have another friend who had put together some clean time, decided to become a mountain climber, went on an expedition to climb Denali, up in Alaska. Its a 3 week ordeal, and he trained for a year to do it. Even climbed Ranier just for practice. When he got to Denali at last, the weather turned bad and they never made the summit. When he got back he was so devastated that all he knew to do was go get a big shot of dope and go on a six month peyote and mushroom filled run down through Mexico and South America, only to wind up in a flea bag hotel in Waco when the cops barged in and shut down his meth lab.
Anyway, I thought I'd send you a letter. Its probably not as entertaining as you were.
Me? I have 12 years clean now.
I remember one time you said to me "When I first moved in next door to you you always had money. I could always count on you if I needed a front on some money. Now, you never have any money".
Hahahaha...I wonder where it all went!
I've got a pretty good job theses days. 15 years now, same place.
If you want you can write me.
Good luck to you Clark

Steve from Little Taste of Sante Fe

LETTER TO A FRIEND

Hey Bryan!

Man, I’m sorry its taken so long to get to you. My writing juices have just almost been dried up! I hadn’t really posted anything since 10/25.

Been very busy. I started looking at houses to buy last month. My apartments had decided to raise my rent by 25%. That ought to be criminal, yes? So I gave notice and went house hunting.

I’ve got a contract on a house over in Meadowbrook. I shitty little house really, it needs wood siding replaced, paint, and has grading and drainage problems. The roof might make it another year or two. I’ll be lucky if it passes insurance inspection. These people that flip houses, they do all this sexy stuff inside, but forget the big stuff.  But it has a huge kitchen (big enough for bunk beds and a television) and a big master bedroom, like no house you’ve ever seen, and once I’d seen it I couldn’t un-see it. Me, leaning against the kitchen counter drinking coffee watching my kitchen television; me, sitting at my picnic table in the kitchen, just over from the formal dining room table set with fancy dishes from The Pottery Barn, waiting for a supper party to happen; me, lounging around the master bedroom in my smoking jacket, mint candy sitting on the pillow on the made up bed and artwork on the walls, and a big mahogany desk where I take care of business, maybe pick up a quick million on e-trade while three or four junior Playboy bunnies frolic and lounge around my huge combination bedroom/office/parlor and purr things like “Hurry Sugar, come back to bed”.
Anyway it’s a shitty little house that needs a lot of work on the outside. I could sure use your expertise.

We just finished having the groups 38^th Anniversary. It was full of angst, drama,  sturm and drang, and I wont bore you with the details, or get involved with rumor and loose talk about what all went on. As Moneyhandler I can say we made about 600 bucks and no one got knifed in the parking lot so it was a complete success.
A friend of mine from High School, Bill, was asking me what we did at the group. Bill and  I, when we were Seniors at LD Bell were in the first High School philosophy class in the state of Texas. The teacher had tried for years to get it on the curricula, and finally had done it. She wanted 3 volunteers from the class to do a film presentation about the class to take to the State Teachers Convention. Bill and I did that. We were already buds, but that cemented it. It was about a 15 minute presentation, with Moody Blues music and everything, and except for the debate team, the only thing worth having gone to High School for!

I’l try to get another note off to you soon. I have to get your address from Trish. In the meantime I’ll leave you with a David Foster Wallace quote a ran into a few weeks ago. It really stuck with me, and in some way makes me think of you.

“What he'd do, he'd never go out to the length of the chain. He'd never even get out to where the chain got tight. Even if the mailman pulled up, or a salesman. Out of dignity, this dog pretended like he chose this one area to stay in that just happened to be inside the length of the chain. Nothing outside of that area right there interested him. He just had zero interest. So he never noticed the chain. He didn't hate it. The chain. He just up and made it not relevant. Maybe he wasn't pretending--maybe he really up and chose that little circle for his own world. He had a power to him. All of his life on that chain.”
― David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

THE EARWORM

Did you ever hear a song that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and the name of the song eluded you, its such a pity too, because it was always such a damn fine song for being an instrumental, and you can’t think of the name of it and its driving you mad and being an instrumental there is no chorus, there is no lyrical clue there, but the bass sounds like Kool and The Gangs Jungle Boogie, and the horns maybe like some Chuck Mangione would do when he isn’t starring in another Simpsons episode, so you just keep humming this instrumental over and over again, making that mouth music to the point where you are really getting pretty good at it, the bass line, then the sax, now you are a coronet, and totally syncopated, and suddenly you are throwing in a whistle or two when the flute kicks in, and then back to the bass, very stylish, and its still bugs the crap out of you what is the name of this fucking song, and its really too good to be Mangione, and it might be Miles Davis, except Miles Davis never got played on AM radio that you are aware of and this tune was such a hit it got played on AM radio while you cruised the loop smokin’ up a couple J’s so it might be Herbie Hancock because Watermelon Man was pretty good for that and you are humming it over and over and finally decide to crank up a Mangione tune on Youtube.

One bar in to “Feels So Good” you know it aint it, you hope to God is the only thing Mangione has ever done you are vaguely familiar with, you discover something horrible has happened.
That tune you had gotten really good at, especially the bass line?
Completely forgotten.
The only thing worse than a 24 hour earworm is having it go away bofore you get an ID on it.
So I googled up “Great jazz instrumentals of the early 70’s”.
It was number 5 on the list...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfAJLGFWxYo

ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN

My ex wife didn’t get along with my daughters second grade teacher. At all.

One day my daughter brought home a project assignment. She was supposed to flip a coin 100 times and record the results and have the parents sign off.

Well, my ex wife refused to sign off, so I signed it and put

“Dear Mrs Wilson (the teacher)

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead!

Mr Renfro

She sent a note back to me with my daughter:
Mr Renfro;

Loved your comment!

Mrs Wilson

My ex wife looked at me and scratched her head.

“HUH?” she said.

She never read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.

CHAIN

“What he'd do, he'd never go out to the length of the chain. He'd never even get out to where the chain got tight. Even if the mailman pulled up, or a salesman. Out of dignity, this dog pretended like he chose this one area to stay in that just happened to be inside the length of the chain. Nothing outside of that area right there interested him. He just had zero interest. So he never noticed the chain. He didn't hate it. The chain. He just up and made it not relevant. maybe he wasn't pretending--maybe he really up and chose that little circle for his own world. He had a power to him. All of his life on that chain.”
― David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

RIP COKIE

Cokie Roberts, on being asked about obstacles for women journalists covering congress:
"Actually, not any. That is something that's interesting about politicians. They are the most modern of men when they need to be. If you are representing a news organization - as in my case, National Public Radio, which is in every single one of their districts - they don't care what you are. I have always joked, you know, if you walked in and you were a three-headed monster and polka-dotted, they would say - and you had 10 million listeners - they would say, oh - you know, after a moment, hi. Have a cup of coffee, or perhaps you need three. But it is - they were perfectly willing to talk to me or to any of my female colleagues because of the organizations we represented. The problems were much more in the news organizations rather than among the sources."

I knew Cokie's voice way before I ever saw her face. Always good natured and informative, sad to see her go.

THE KRACKEN

"Yes, I know I am here at Chipotles Restaurant just about every day. We've become BFF,  all of y'all know me. And yes, I would love to sign up for your rewards program and get a free Chipotle every ten days. But no, I do not want to "just download the app" to my phone. I'd rather be struck by lightning. I'd rather release the Kracken.
Can't we work something else out? 'Cause I ain't doin' it."

BACK IN THE USSR

Why does the disgraced Russian Prosecutor Viktor Sholkin look so familiar?
Crack him in half and AG William Barr pops out.
So here’s the deal on Shokin. He is the one that Biden wanted fired. As Prosecutor General Sholkin was supposed to be investigating a company of corrupt Russian Oligarchs called Burisma. Bidens son was part of the board of directors of that company. The charges against the company were from BEFORE Biden's son joined the board.
Shokin had proved himself to be more of a protector of corruption and the political elite than a prosecutor of it. Shokin became an enemy of anti-corruption and watchdog groups, even to the point of an assassination attempt. My blog buddy in the Ukraine wrote a lot about Shokin back during the Ukranian Revolution of 2014.
In 2016 the Obama Administration withheld a billion dollars in loan guarantees to pressure the Ukrainian government to remove Shokin from office.
The IMF was withholding 40 BILLION to pressure the Ukrainian government to remove Shokin from office. Most of Western Europe was holding SOMETHING to try to pressure the Ukraine to get rid of Shokin.
Was Biden and the Obama administration wrong to leverage Russia into firing a corrupt Prosecutor General?
Maybe not.
Did it have any effect on Biden’s political enemies, or elections here in the United States of America?
I think not.

GOD AND ELECTRICITY

I called last week to the electric company to get my NA group's contract renewed.  
They went up on their electricity by two cents a kilowatt hour. It doesn't sound like much but it's $60 a month.

I called another provider to see if I could get a better rate. They offered me two tenths of a cent less, which is not enough that I would switch providers. Then the girl on the phone asked me who it was again the service was for.

I said Another Chance Group of Narcotics Anonymous.

She said “You guys do good work down there don't you? Let me talk to my supervisor and see if we can do better.”

She puts me on hold. I’m thinking if she can save me a penny per kilowatt I might switch.

She comes back on the line.

“Mr. Renfro, I can get you 4.7 cents per kilowatt!”

That is 2.2 cents less, in fact, its less than we have been paying.

Then my trust issues start to kick in.

“What about hidden fees? I ask “What about delivery charges?”

“No Mr. Renfro, no hidden fees, same delivery charges as the other provider”

Well, down at Another Chance we have a saying that goes like this:

“Either you trust God or you don’t” and God seems to be sending me a good electric rate, the same way he sends boats and helicopters and half off coupons for TV dinners. All you have to do is climb aboard or cut them out of the paper.

I said “Yes ma’am, sign me up” and I can start to feel the lump in my throat.

She asks for the address, and the name of the group again and she gets to the part about what city.

“We are in…H-H-H” and it starts to hit me.

The overwhelming sense of gratitude and humility.

I start over.

“We are in Hu-Hu-Hurst” and then I just break down crying.

“What’s the matter Mr. Renfro? Are you OK?” she asks.

“You don’t know h-h-how much this m-m-means to me” and its true. How can I tell her? How can I tell her what we do there?

How can I tell her that once upon a time I couldn’t even have a bank account, and now I am the Master of Coin, the Treasurer for the group, and how not only do I pay MY BILLS ON TIME, I pay the groups bills on time too. And that once upon a time I owed every electric company in the world, and now here I am, setting up electricity for my group?

Miracle! All of it!

I do the same thing when I renew my KERA Membership. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.

ROXY'S

I was at Roxy’s disco one night back in the 80’s. There was a girl I worked with, Lulu, Lulu LeBons, and we danced a couple times and she sat at the table with me. The music was loud, and all thumpa-thumpa, and at some point she looked at me and said “I need a kiss”. So I grabbed her and started kissing her (that’s what I do, I just cant help myself) and she was kissing back, so that’s a good sign, and her kisses were sweet and ferocious, and our tongues danced like David Lee Roth, shirtless, breathless, endless end of the world kisses; my hand was on her breast, hers on my thigh, both of us squirming thumpa-thumpa on our bar stools. 
People walked past and said “Get a room” but we paid them no mind.
Finally, we broke our embrace and untangled our tongues.
She said “Whew, what was that about?”
I said “You said you needed a kiss”
She said “No, I said I needed to piss”

Edit

WHY I HAVENT BEEN LAID LATELY

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. Just a check up and cleaning with my favorite dentist of 30 years now. I call him Dr Death, but he is one competent dentist with an ouitstanding sense of humor, who gives you sunglasses to wear while you are under that bright ass light.
I asked him “Can you get me Joe Biden’s teeth?”
Dr Death said “Steve, you don’t want Joe's teeth. He is using radioactive isotopes as tooth polish. In a few years, except for his teeth, he will be unrecognizable”
“But Doc, I got to do something about these teeth. My entire generation is quickly realizing that while it was our HAIR that used to get us laid, now its our TEETH. Isn’t it time to just pull them all and give me dentures so I can look like Pierce Brosnan the way all my other over 60 friends are doing?”
“You aren’t there yet” said Dr Death.
"When will it come to that?" I asked
He said "About 40 years"
"OK" I said "You'll still be here, yes? Can I go ahead and schedule?"

NEVER FORGET

If I was him--and once upon a time I was-- I would never forget her name or that blue dress. Not ever.

ALWAYS IN DANGER

Post inspired by Live and Learn. Asking prayers for brother.

We had our big ISO audit yesterday. When they got to me they wanted to see my receive process. I grabbed a box that came from out LAX maintenance center. Probably a radio that needs repair.

“I can show you better than I can tell you” I said.

I opened the box. No packing slip, no repair tag, both ISO requirements. My ears go red.

“Well, lets take a look in the database. There will be a ship task done for shipping it here.”

Well, guess what? No ship task. It’s a mystery basket, that’s what I got.

My boss, he says “Its not your fault. All you did was open the box”
Still, its no way to start an ISO audit. Frigging LAX, I should have known better.

There is a song from the 80’s I think of it a lot, but I can only remember 3 words from the song. The singer is singing about people, and the words are “always in danger”.

“Always in danger”
I guess some more than others. But we all get our turn.

I found the song. Went right to it.  I was pretty sure who it was.  Good song.

A FIVE HOT RACIST

I have no doubt whatsoever that Donald Trump's hateful anti-immigrant rhetoric is inspiring crimes of mass carnage, such as the one that occurred in El Paso. I also have no doubt whatsoever that there's a small segment of Trump voters out there who believe this, and a huge segment that refuse to. They deny he's a racist, which makes me wonder about them. That's why I've started a sliding scale for racists. Like for Thai food, ya know, 1 Hot thru 5 Hot.
I give Trump a solid 4 Hot.
Me? I give myself a 2 Hot.
If you would like to know how I score you, send $20 and a stamped self addressed envelope to me. 
Allow 3 weeks for delivery.

A BUS RIDE TO THE STAR MARKET

That story in the bible about the lady touching the hem of Jesus' robe, its one of the ones that really gets me.

Dave has a story, it reminds me of something shameful in my life. Just a moment I relive often enough.

I was raised in suburbia all my life. I’d never taken a bus or public transportation anywhere.

About 20 years ago my kids, 5 and 7, and I had occasion to take the bus to the zoo. Our start was from their grandma’s house, in a rough part of town.

When we got on the bus and were looking for a spot to sit, I saw all the folks on the bus---mostly low income inner city sorts of people—and I was way out of my comfort zone.

I’ve never thought of myself as racist, class conscious,  snobby, or whatever.
I grew up in Detroit, during the riots, cried when MLK was shot, thought myself to be pretty liberated, enlightened, tolerant and respectful of all peoples no matter their station in life.
I spied a cop sitting about the middle of the bus.

“Here kids, we’ll be safe here “ I said, and herded the kids into the seat in front of the cop.

There probably isn’t a month go by that I don’t replay that little episode in my head.

Here, 20 years later and having been about a step away from being homeless myself, I have to think that I wouldn’t feel so detached from humanity.

At least I wouldn’t ANNOUNCE it!

THE STAR MARKET

The people Jesus loved were shopping at the Star Market yesterday.
An old lead-colored man standing next to me at the checkout
breathed so heavily I had to step back a few steps.

Even after his bags were packed he still stood, breathing hard and
hawking into his hand. The feeble, the lame, I could hardly look at them:
shuffling through the aisles, they smelled of decay, as if the Star Market
had declared a day off for the able-bodied, and I had wandered in
with the rest of them — sour milk, bad meat —
looking for cereal and spring water.

Jesus must have been a saint, I said to myself, looking for my lost car
in the parking lot later, stumbling among the people who would have
been lowered into rooms by ropes, who would have crept
out of caves or crawled from the corners of public baths on their hands
and knees begging for mercy.

If I touch only the hem of his garment, one woman thought,
could I bear the look on his face when he wheels around?

- Marie Howe -
(from "The Kingdom of Ordinary Time")

MEDITATION

About 20 years ago I started losing some teeth. All in the back, so I kept my good looks, mostly. They would hurt like hell a couple times in a six month span, then just fall out. I guess about 6 or 8 teeth were lost. I learned that if I laid there and moaned, loud and long, it provided some relief. I didn’t know how, but it seemed to help.
Nowadays I wake up sometimes with a sour stomach. The same thing works. I moan and groan, loud and long. The more pitiful I sound the better it works.
After about 5 or six big long moans, the discomfort is pretty well gone.
Anyway, we were talking about meditation at my NA group last week. A guy was talking about breathing while he meditates. And I realized that the way all my moaning and groaning works is because of the way it regulates my breathing!
I think there is probably more to meditation than just moaning and groaning, but it’s a start.

SUICIDE WATCH

To the tune of America. The meters a little off.


“God Bless poor Hillary
Criminal that we love
Stand beside her, and guide her 
On a perp walk next week or in a year or two
Through Benghazi
Through her Emails
Through Fake DNC FISA’s
And Uranium One!
Gobless poor Hillary
Nothing ever sticks!
Gobless poor Hillary
Nothing (nothing) ever (ever) sticks!”

A FEW INCHES OF LIGHT

"It's incredibly touching when someone who seems so hopeless finds a few inches of light to stand in and makes everything work as well as possible. All of us lurch and fall, sit in the dirt, are helped to our feet, keep moving, feel like idiots, lose our balance, gain it, help others get back on their feet, and keep going."
 - Anne Lamott

STEP ONE

As part of working step one I want you to think about reservations. Ask yourself if you are harboring any. Ask yourself if you were harboring a reservation, what would it be? Is there anything that could happen that might tempt you to use.
And think about resignation and surrender.

Explain the difference between resignation and surrender.

Is there an instance this week where you surrendered, and it kept you out of pain?

Are there times when it is best to consider yourself a casual observer instead of personally involved in a situation?

Has there been a time when you refused to resign? What did that mean for you?

THE LEAST RACIST

I’ve adopted the “5 Hot” rating system for Racism. Like when you go for Thai food, and order the Shrimp Pad Thai, and you like it a little hotter than medium hot, so you go with “4 Hot”. Your date, she doesn’t like it that hot, so she has the Chicken Krapow “2 Hot”. I like my Yum Nua a little hotter than 4, so I go with “5 Hot “ on the Yum Nua.
Trump scores himself a "1 Hot". Says he is the "least Racist " person in the world. He looks hotter than that to me. At least a "3 Hot".
Me? I give myself a "2 Hot". I generally avoid rating my friends.

"WE KNOW A THING OR TWO BECAUSE WE'VE SEEN A THING OR TWO"

Here where I work they are instituting a safety program that is out of this world. They have taken away my pointy scissors and replaced my utility knives with the kind with retractable blades. I have to wear gloves if I use anything that cuts, including the round nosed scissors. 

I asked if I had to have a glove for the hand that holds the knife. They said “Which hand will touch the blade?” 

I said “Neither”.  Duh.

Do they not know I spent 6 hours a day for 25 years with knives of all sorts-- shave the hair off your arms sharp-- in my hands? Have they nothing better to do than bother people like me?

I'm trying to be compliant. I've come a long ways.
Four years ago, before the big saftety push, my micromanaging little boss came to me and said "I'd like you to get some steel-toed shoes. Bring me the receipt and we will reimburse you."

How did I react? By pointing out that was the dumbest thing I ever heard. That’s just how I rolled I guess, turning down free shoes.

But he won...I went to Red Wing, full of resentment, and bought a two hundred fifty five dollar pair of steel toes.

Tossed the receipt on his desk like it was an old lunch sack from Jack In The Box.

Ended up I LIKE those shoes. I wear them all the time, all five pounds each of them.  I've never had any two hundred fifty dollar a pair shoes before.

And I resolved to try to be more compliant, more open minded, and less of a hammerhead to my boss.

So when the new boss came to me 3 months ago and said I needed to go get safety glasses, on the company dime, I tried being more compliant.

I tried surrender.

I said "OK".

He looked so relived.

Then you know what I said?

"Boss, I've had these shoes for almost five years. Do you think I can get a new pair?"

So now I have safety glasses, a new pair of shoes, and safety scissors.
Whats next? A rubber knife?

PAMPHLETS ARE FOR SUCKERS

"Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it."

Ray Bradbury.

MINIMUM PAYMENTS ARE FOR SUCKERS

When I stopped doing the dope I had been in banking time out for a few years. I could take $30,000 to a bank to deposit, and they would say “No Mr. Bulletholes, we don’t want your money in our bank. You are too much trouble.” So I had to go 7 years without a bank account. Cashing checks at the Quick Stop. Pay as you go for everything.
Finally the 7 years was up.
Thanks to Narcotics Anonymous I had finally learned to live life on its own terms. To live within my means. To renew my drivers license before it came due. To pay my rent on time. To maintain car insurance and have proper licensing and registration.

Its a form the Seventh Tradition: "Every group (me) should be fully self supporting, declining outside contributions". That also includes things like keeping a clean house. I'm still working on that. 

I have a drawer full of credit cards now, but if I use one, its paid off within months. Paid off before they can charge me any interest.
Beacause... 
Minimum payments are for suckers.

ELEVEN YEARS CLEAN TODAY!

EXPIRED

 I've had my sisters car since she died in 2015. I discovered yesterday there is a slide out tray under the passenger seat. In that tray were 4 of those peanut butter cheese cracker things. I had one last night. It tasted kinda old but it didn't kill me. I tried another one the next night, and it tasted REALLY old, and it didnt kill me, but I threw them away just the same.