Archive for the ‘Addiction’ Category

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Wednesday, February 1st, 2012

The Hartman's


a really hot hot summer day in late 1960′s my mother asked me
what i wanted for my birthday dinner
hot hot oven and no aircondition ing
ok my favorites hamburger and frenchfries and here we were lined up
on the long table(hand crafted) Later:
Mr. Hartman arriving like an anthology of darkness, writing his lifes numbers in little black books
and sometimes he would write to God, skipping through Jesus and right to the
boss of the house always six feet taller then anyone else, he never
wore jeans and grew tomatoes and roses
outside

With the cuckoo clock on the rec room wall
scaring the simplicities of childhood right outta my ripped spaceman-pajamas. Modern
kitchen catching Thusday nights setting sun”Dad is gonna KILLYOU when he gets home
and yet”he never did murder.Just sits down to steak and mashed potatoes laced with speed
“Pretend we’re an unexploded bomb (she shivers and sighs”

These two that got married in the rain one soft June anniversary day in who knows when
nineteen hundred and who cares. They drank and gambled fought and loved.
After too many cigarettes and Rock and Ryes on the rocks the kitchen walls
collapsed and woke the ten children out of deep dark dreams

you are ATOP of a mountain of stairs The worn out gold shag carpet path
holding your siblings hands Down in the valley of kitchen the scream ing makes no
sense. Constant.
A freight train flying by at top speed endless your necks straining for the end somewhere the caboose please
God help the world is ending when your parents are drunk and fighting bells and lights flashing
finally in the sobbing, someone cries out PLEASE STOP

You are past boundaries of late night unheard of in your age.

Posted in Addiction, Art, Mom Dad, poetry | No Comments »

Day 9 -The End of the World

Monday, January 9th, 2012

December 2011:
If I was in a coma, I’m all better now. Through out all the blackness of the dream there was no hope and no escape. I knew I would emerge and Christmas would be waiting. When you are buried alive in work and you can’t escape, it is worse then a windowless jail cell.
Kryha:
She is very good at hiding her love.
Why I’m a bad fan:
I gave up on this team a long time ago. Even after their miracle of 2007/08 and even after knowing football for over forty years. So much can happen…quickly. The philosophy of a football season is totally unpredictable , even more then life itself. I gave up on this team so many times and never give them hope. I am a bad fan. (I think it is all because I don’t want to get hurt)
Getting Hurt
Hurts.
Fear:
Fear and I have been walking hand in hand along the beach my whole life. It is so romantic and sexy. I just never want to let go.
Alcohol:
When I see people at the Giants games, so drunk, so stupid, that they probably won’t remember anything, I say to myself; “That should be me. By the grace of God, there I go.”
I don’t miss drinking, I don’t crave it. I don’t hate people that drink, I have no desire to drink. The dreams, (like that work coma) have gone away a very long time ago. Once I was sitting/standing in a bar with Kryha in Hoboken, New Jersey. She had one beer. She had so so much fun and I envied her a little. Everyone else was having fun and drinking. A great fear (my beach walking friend) came over me for about two seconds that I was missing out on living life and that I was gonna die soon. Then I realized that if I didn’t stop drinking 8,089 days ago…..I would already be dead. I can guarantee that.
Church:
A place where Fear never goes. (he is on the beach) I feel safe there.
The end of the world
If (when) Iran gets a nuclear weapon, it will be the start. When the globe begins to get micro-waved, I pray that I am in church when it happens. They say the world is supposed to end this year. I don’t think it will. It is supposed to come like e thief in the night….so maybe next year.

My son Jonathan and I at the first playoff game at the new stadium. The crowd was crazy. Sometimes I feel so far away from Johnny. I love him so much. This was a great day. A day to always remember.

Posted in Addiction, Dreams, Our Children | No Comments »

beneath the neon glow (Diary of a sex addict)

Sunday, April 24th, 2011

Late one rainy Spring night in a hotel, Midtown Manhattan New York City. A dark room with one single candle on a night table next to the bed. The performers cannot be seen, only heard apparently from a pile of pillows and blankets on the bed. A window next to the bed is covered with rain. The reflections of a neon light occasionally flickering on and off splashes red and blue lights on the bed.

Butch: (yawning) are you still cold?
Coco: Mmmmmm mmmmm
Butch: What about you?
Coco: Mmmmmm??
Butch: What about you?
Coco: I’m really tired….mmmmm…..so tired. My clients were so demanding today. My Mac is acting up. The photo shoot was horrible. My package design was outright rejected.
Butch: What about you?
Coco: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when I was like six or seven my father used to make me take showers with him. He never touched me but even then, I knew it wasn’t right. I mean shit, at that height it was the only thing I saw. I remember eating breakfast in the dark because we never paid the electric bill and my mom had arranged to have an extension cord come through the window from our neighbors house. She would use the cord to make the coffee first and then the toast. It snowed a lot when I was a kid. One time I went outside in my snow suite and it was so cold that I was pounding on the door to get in after only five minuets. I don’t know what they were doing in there but it seemed like, maybe it was an hour or two before it opened again. I got sick and my mother hide the frost bite by not letting me go to school for a week. One day when I was around ten, a man pulled up next to me in his car to ask for directions to the library. I knew where the library was because I went there all the time. I loved to read books about design, color and architecture, even at that age. I used to go to the library to hide from life. The bullies at school were starting to get physical, pushing me into my locker and laughing. I was so scared I can’t even tell you. Well anyway, halfway through my directions to the library, I realized that the man in the car had no pants or underwear on. I was so stupid, I just finished the directions and walked away. It was the third penis I had ever seen. That is if you count brothers. I used to change my younger brothers diaper. I remember running through snow covered hills and making sleds outta cardboard until my friend Bobby got hurt one day. His sled went off the trail, it was too icy and he hit a tree head-on. An ambulance had to come and we only saw Bobby two times after that, looking out of his bedroom window waving at us. They say he became retarded after he hit that big fat oak tree with his head and we never went sledding again. I found myself going to the library more and more to read and sit in a corner sometimes until it closed and they chased me out. I loved learning and discovering what made things work. I stole my mothers Polaroid camera, well, she never used it anyway and took pictures of everything, I mean everything. The film wasn’t expensive because I stole that too, until I got caught by Mr. Jeffries at the five and ten and he took me in the back room and said he was gonna spank me, and that maybe I might have to pull up my dress. When I told him I knew he was just trying to look at my vagina, his eyes almost popped out of his head, he gave me the rest of his Polaroid film which was seven packs…enough for fifty photos and ten dollars if I promised not to steal anymore which I agreed to but I had my fingers crossed behind my back. I loved taking photos with that camera it became an extension of me. I started to experiment and paint and write on the film before it had a chance to dry. Then I started cutting things out of newspapers and pasting them on cardboard that I found behind Mr. Jeffries store. I had a big box of art and supplies that I had to hide from everyone because I know they wouldn’t like it or my mom would certainly throw it away. My bigger pieces I put in the garage behind the broken washing machine. I started to really like making things from nothing. I was addicted to it. The first time a man put his thing inside me I became addicted to that too. I think I was seventeen. In the corner of my garage on an old army blanket right in front of the broken washing machine that hid some of my artwork. I wanted to go to college and keep on learning but it was never mentioned by my parents in my senior year. My dad said that Mr. Jeffries had a “Help Wanted” sign on the front of his store window. I went up to my room and cried. I dreamed of collage that night. I was walking down the hall and there were no bullies. The walls were filled with art, the windows were big and there were oak trees and a valley. The teachers were all nice and helpful. I had long black hair and black eyes. I wore dresses of yellow and orange covered with tulips and bees. But then my dreams slowly evaporated. I became obsessed with something else. I had reached a turning point in my life with no more school. I was on the verge of the deepest most darkest days of my life.
Butch: Really?

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One giant leap for mankind

Sunday, November 21st, 2010

Thoughts on turning 50I never dreamed of a mountain top so crisp and clear and deep as I did on August 25 2010. Both my parents and two of my five sisters have passed away. Our Gill cousins are “around the corner” My fathers side has slipped away. Keeping up with the Jones’.
AUGUST 2010: August 2010 has 5 Sundays, 5 Mondays, 5 Tuesdays, all in one month.
Contrary to what you’ve been hearing on the internet this is not a rare occurrence, and it certainly happens more often than once every 823 years.
This is part of a cycle: In August 2009, there were five Saturdays, five Sundays and five Mondays. August 2011 will have five Mondays, five Tuesdays and five Wednesdays.
The next time we get five Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays in August will be August 2021.
There was a full moon on my 50th birthday but it rained. But the next day I took a photo of it on my way to work:

In ONE HALF OF A CENTURY I remember many historical things: JFK’s funeral on TV. Man landing on the moon for the first time. Being at the 1965 New York Worlds Fair. The Space Shuttle disaster and the terrorist attacks on New York I also watched live on television. I have met thousands of people–some of them for only a few seconds or minuets but I remember them. I have also lost my memory on many things and many people.
I have worked many jobs. Paper boy, refrigerated warehouse lifting 100 lb cases of beef. Lucent technologies plotting services. Large format prepress printer in New York City. Weedwhacker. Aluminum line paint mixer. Arcade attendant. Sign designer. Web builder. Forklift driver. Truck unloader. Recovery driver. Gas station attendant. Junk yard auction yard.
In fifty years I am a survivor because I knoe of at least twenty or more of my friends that are at or around my age that have succumbed to addiction.
I don’t drink or smoke but I drink too much coffee and Red Bull. I’m not much for sweets but salt is a huge addiction.
As for life at Fifty, “you’ve always been here”

I woke up in a house of clocks alarmed at where I had ended up in life. On my 50th birthday I gratefully never entered a room filled with people I know screaming surprise, but I worked a 13 hour day and very humbly had dinner in a Polish restaurant with Krystina. It was the best birthday I ever had. The mushroom soup was excellent.
I feel like I have read the Star Ledger a New Jersey based morning newspaper my whole life. I even delivered it for three years when I was a young teen before it became an “adult job” In the Summer when I had no school, I stayed up all night, writing, drawing and dreaming before I would deliver the paper at 2 or 3 am. It is just one of those things that have been part of my life. Those mysterious dark walks at night delivering newspapers, sometimes with my bike. It was the beginning of that isolation and loneliness that I found so comforting in my life.
Dad loved the Sunday paper and read it it inside out. I guess I inherited that. A good thing. A lot of people don’t read the newspaper anymore. They stopped having it delivered and they don’t buy it from newsstands. Sunday may be a small exception. The internet has killed the newspaper. The slow death is almost complete.
I remember reading as a kid that Black Bears had not been seen in New Jersey for almost seven decades and the writer assured me, that “Bears of any kind will never tread on New Jersey soil ever again.”
Slowly but surely over the years they have begun to move in.
New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the United States. Between 1950 and 2000, the population nearly doubled to reach 8.4 million. As development eats away at black bear habitat, the number of reported human-bear conflicts has risen.
I remember when spotting a deer as a kid was a BIG thing! Now they are EVERYWHERE. In Watchung NJ, they are like squirrels. Running across neighborhood streets and hanging out in groups in peoples backyards.
Recently last Fall they were pulling Seals out of the ocean as far north as Seawaren and as far south as Point Pleasant Beach. Seals …… IN NEW JERSEY!!! When I lived in Spring Lake a runaway deer was so confused and lost that it just took off blindly into the ocean !! It ended up with its foot caught in the rocks with a rapidly rising tide. I witnessed the dramatic rescue and still can’t forget the very strange contrast of brown deer against white sand and ocean.
Another great Jersey Shore attraction this year has been shark spotting. Not a rare event but certainly something to make the Star Ledger whenever it happens. Deer and squirrels can’t kill but Black Bears and Sharks can bite your leg off.
My only true visit to the beach this year I witnessed a panic as two fins broke the ocean top close to the shoreline. OMG SHARKS everyone yelled but the lifeguards were quick to correct us that they were indeed—DOLPHINS. Dolphins in New Jersey, it is indeed a strange globally warming planet that we are living on!


In the sometimes insanity of everyday life, I’ve taken time to hold the moment. All work and no play makes Jack an insane boy. If you are enveloped in slavery, open up your feelings. Scream with your mouth. Free yourself and SPEAK UP because you are a human being you deserve it. Somebody is watching over you at all times. I swear.

Posted in Addiction, Krystina, Self Portrait, Uncategorized | No Comments »

Some things are more important than money

Saturday, November 6th, 2010

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

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Posted in Addiction, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Diary of a Sex Addict

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

Things began early that day. The alarm clock never wakes you. It is the dreams, thoughts and swirling blood in your body. Saturated with sex.
Dinner (last night): Shellfish, sauteed garlic and several long stares at the waitresses ass.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Doing laundry at 3am, watching Spanish TV and noticing the cops passing the windowed wall real slow”
Butch: (perplexed) All bloodthinners.
Coco: What is?
Butch: Everything I ate for dinner.
Coco: And all that aspirin you eat too. What is that all about?
Butch: (changing the channel) It’s good for your heart.
It started early in life. Addiction. When I was sick Mom gave me hot tea and St Joseph’s Children’s Aspirin. Two of them and you had to chew them. They certainly weren’t candy but they weren’t overwhelmingly medicine tasting but I liked the bitterness and the tea had caffeine. So I felt better. Immediately after that was the taboo of vagina, ass and tits. Women didn’t poop. They were too amazing. So these nonhuman objectified “things” walking across parking lots in tight jeans. Tight jeans were like an overdose of St Joseph’s aspirin and the price of a porno magazine escalated to over $5.00 each so I stole them.
6:22 PM: You have planned every second of the next two hours. Your mind is enveloped in the reflections in shiny silver cash registers and dressing room mirrors. You walk in, look up at the cameras, buy a Snickers Bar and leave. As you drive home in peace, the sun melts into the night like lava. Orange clouds imitate smoke and a plane sinks into the horizon.
Butch: Wish I was in that plane, I don’t care where it is going.
Coco: (squinting into the sunset) Looks like it is going south from here.
Butch: (getting off his bike) Yeah, south … south ….south is good.

The Clouds Lately
Summer skies are beautiful. So hard to predict. I love those big puffy mountainous cumulous monsters. I could just sit in a chair on the beach and watch those all day. The clouds lately have reminded me of Florida. Dramatic puffey white and a sun shower. This Summer has been nothing to me. Nowhere. Nothing. Roadside America for a couple of hours. I have been invited to Hall of Fames, pools, free rooms, great company, awesome family and BBQ’s. I am a slave to my job. I need to stretch my legs. I am making up for lost time though, last Summer I was lost in upstate New York. Jungles and rivers. Waking up to sleep naked by the side of the water. Weed whacker. Banner sealer. Sign designer.

The piece of wood that Gary found.


A while ago Gary found this piece of wood with four very old photos of mom pasted to it. It was up high on a shelf in his home. These are some very amazing photographs. Mom is very young (very) and I don’t even think she met or knew Dad yet. Her boyfriend evidently had a camera and loved to take photos of this young sexy thing.

Detailed close up. Your mothers ass sitting on top of a convertible.

Butch: I don’t blame my sex addiction on my mothers genes….but I wish I had more of Dads genes and maybe I would have more money.
Coco: (putting on her panties) It’s never too late Butchie boy. You can be rich if you want. Ha ha ha. Money is the root of ALL happiness. Think about all the women you would have!
Butch: Yeah, right.
Coco: Remember how many hours your father spent in front of that mechanical manual adding machine. Chaa chaa ching. Chaaaa chaaa ching ???
Butch: Yeah. It was all about the money, it was always about the money. The ONE and ONLY vacation we went on to Gettysburg Pennsylvania and I remember him adding things up as we went along on a piece of paper.
Coco: And that darn Bible. Put the book down and pick up your children for Gods sake.
Butch: (lighting a cigarette) Do you think he would have been counting his money and buttons if he knew how short life really is??
Butch: Especially HIS life.

7:12 PM:
The urge is too strong sometimes. Overwhelming. Like the need for a smoke. Gotta have it. Want it. The internet is the crack cocaine of a new generation of sex addicts. Tommy put his Dell 560 with 4 gig of memory on the front seat of his Honda and drove to the bridge at midnight. On the bridge, he slowly lifted the computer from the tangle of seat belts and lifted it over his head. It was a few seconds before he heard the plastic splash. He was relieved and excited all at once. His heart pumping like crazy as he drove away.I’m free. Never again. Yet the next night he is buying a new one on sale at Best Buy.

Posted in Addiction, Dreams, Photos That Make You Think | No Comments »

the self refuses to appear

Saturday, May 22nd, 2010

then there were three....


Beverly was forever depressed. Even in her toddler photos you can see something is bothering her. I wonder if she was born with some sort of brain chemical disorder. Her obsession with death. Her rebellious lifestyle. Her fears. Her deep dark secretes. Her never-ending escapes from reality. Three marriages. No children. Several abortions. Relentless addictions. Diabetes. Anorexia. Her close relationship with the enabling side of her mother. The ultimate doom. This poor sister of ours. Such a short life (44) . Such a short time with us. Sadly her death overshadowed by the death of Brenda.
Who were you closer to, Brenda or Beverly or is that an even fair question? Brooke once asked me why I didn’t have a tribute to Brenda on this website. It would be so easy for me to say “I never have time.” After all we did have a special Family Ties edition for Beverly and Mom.
When you wake up everyday, to sunshine or rain
clouds or storm
do you ever stop to think it will be the last day you wake up on this planet?
Like the Bible says, it will come like a thief in the night
We are all killing ourselves slowly. This addictive death over and over and
over and over. The definition of insanity was our inheritance in this life
Generations of troubled souls seeking somehow
serenity from a racing mind
erase the pain of everyday strife
stop the cycle and lets live life
let’s show our children a different beach
sandy feet
soothing waves
cool refreshing shade

Do you notice cinematography on TV? Perhaps if you are a cinematographer. And yet if you have ever seen the show, “Breaking Bad” you can’t help but notice. I am not a big TV person and actually the ONLY TV that I have watched in the past year have been the NFL. I accidently stumbled on this show while visiting an old friend but all I could remember was being totally WOW’ed by this show. Based in beautiful New Mexico and shot with a wide lens, it is the story of a guy who loses all his money to a cancer diagnosis that wasn’t. He cooks and sells crystal meth to save his family. Interesting.
BIG BULLY just GO AWAY
I think World War one was started by another country sinking another countries boat. Recently North Korea has for no reason torpedoed a South Korean ship and declared that if anyone has a problem with it, we are prepared for an all-out war.
Would you believe me if I said the world is ending and we are all hurling towards cosmic conflics that are hotter then the face of the sun?

HELP !!!!!


Right now I’m in a book store listening to this negative fuck next to me tell his wife (who never says a word) I don’t see democracy or capitalism working, I don’t see our culture working, I see no help for the unemployed, we watch too much TV, everybody is addicted to something, the cost of education, the crime in the streets…come on let’s get outta here!” They left their empty cups on the table, didn’t put back the magazines and books they were thumbing thru went out to the parking lot, crawled into their Cadillac SUV and drove home to their protected little shell of a home somewhere in the suburbs.
TEENAGERS
Perhaps the greediest, neediest and most self centered bastards on American soil today. They deserve their high insurance rates, they deserve a empty future of resources, they need a good fucking smack in the ass. A wake up call like never before seen. Maybe an angry country on the other side of the world called North Korea.
Is every person in the nation entitled to drive around in a ton of steel, air conditioning blasting, texting and music blaring?
HELP ME TO understand!
While millions upon millions of gallons of crude oil leak into the gulf of Mexico, the price of gasoline has gone down. It is at the lowest that I have ever seen in 2 years.
How are they going to stop this leak? It is already a bigger tragedy then the Exxon Valdez in Alaska. After they stop it, then what? Is anybody losing any sleep over this?
When you cut off the flow of blood to an human organ it dies. When you cut the flow of nature into peoples lives, their spirit dies. It’s as simple as that.
FACEBOOK
Blank Face Face Blank. About Face. How many hours a day do we spend looking at a screen rather then looking at the faces of real people? 500 Million Facebook users!! The company CEO a 26 year old has disabled his “Friend” button. Privacy issues? Who cares if Big Brother is watching, I have created a much better me on-line then the one I carry with me in real life!

I confess to being a lazy bastard. I don’t care. I don’t want to do nothing. I don’t want to be bothered. I especially hate painting rooms and moving furniture so if you need those things done and I do help you, consider me a hero. Waiting for my medal.

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Posted in Addiction, Gratitude | 1 Comment »

Keeping Brother Glenn alive

Friday, July 10th, 2009

There once was a herd of ten sheep and they were all raised in the same pen.
They looked at each other and said, “Look at you, YOU are the BLACK sheep of the family.”
“No, I am NOT. Have you looked at yourself? YOU are indeed the black sheep of the family.”
In their minds they all thought that they were indeed, fluffy white on the outside. When they looked at their brothers and sisters, they saw negativity, difference and darkness.
ONE DAY a shiny chrome, newly washed, 18 wheel freight truck pulled up next to them to deliver their food. When they all looked at their reflection as one family, they realized that they were all the same color. They were all beautiful and they were even more beautiful when they saw how they looked together as ONE.
I got a text message from Ohio saying Glenn is in a nursing home.
From deep within your heart ask Jesus to be by his side.

Glenn we LOVE YOU

Glenn we LOVE YOU

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Posted in Addiction, Mighty Ten | 5 Comments »

cookie

Saturday, May 9th, 2009

in my home(where you lived)
in my home(where you were only a guest) that never
left

you beat me up
you slimy drunk MUTHA FUKA !!!!
and you draGGed me up the stairs
by my hair
you made me cry and
humiliated me In front of everybody Today
there is still a scar
on the side of my head
where you pulled my hair out of my
scalp

today If i ever meet you again Even if you are an old man
you would NEVER believe the ass kicking I
would give you

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Posted in Addiction, poetry, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Back by popular demand………Entry for October 16, 2007

Friday, May 8th, 2009


It is blinding sunshine, happiness, songs and blueskies!

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Posted in Addiction, Gratitude | No Comments »

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