Friday Thoughts – End of Day

I am re-evaluating what I want. It has been a tough week, but in the end, it all came together. Two nights spent with the people I love, always does the trick, even if my head is in my ass.

Commitments were made and Along the week, I’ve come to a number of decisions that I think will turn out well, as time progresses. I quit one habit, and on Sunday, I quit the other bad habit. And I should be good to go, to put the next round of decisions into action.

Many of my friends have taken up running. A LOT of running. Over the past few months, I’ve watched my friends hit new highs in their lives, and do things they never thought possible before, just by lacing up a pair of sneakers and hitting the neighborhood streets.

Completion of Marathons have been the task du jour.

I have, in my bank, new routines to follow. An old timer I know very well, has been good to me as of late. When I need to pick his brain, about anything, he always obliges.

This afternoon I had a conversation with a local friend who is running a half marathon the end of April. And we got to talking about a race in October that we both might run together. After inquiring about training with him, he was not sure he was the right fit for me, knowing his own strengths and weaknesses as a teacher.

But my old timer friend came up in conversation, because he is associated with our Running Room, here in Montreal. Tonight, I saw him at the Friday night meeting and we spoke about a plan.

Firstly he said this … One, you are over fifty. Two, he said that we both carry about 170 pounds a piece. And Three, he said that over taking myself in trying to complete a distance that is, at the moment, out of my league, would be unwise. So we set up a plan of attack, with simple goals to reach over the next month. Then we will regroup and see where I fall on the running scale.

I’ve got a good six months to train up.

One of my friends worked steadily at distance, over a long period of time. He ran a marathon and ran a personal best and got a medal for it. My other friend Jack. walked out his front door and trained for two weeks. TWO WEEKS, having never run before in his life, and completed the Stadium to Sea run in Los Angeles last week, with a 3 hour time.

But they are much younger than I am and in a lot better shape.

Being HIV Positive and a Type 2 Diabetic has its challenges. Being over fifty is my big downfall. I’m no spring chicken and I have to approach any goal and temper that goal by my present disabilities and hopeful abilities to win.

I have a plan. Sunday I put it into action, after I cross off another bad habit and directly affects me lung capacity. Smoking !!!

Take away touching ones self, and point positive sexual energy in another direction is very useful. It focuses you unlike any other focal method. It makes you a better fighter, a better runner, and a better human being.

I’ve learned over the last little while that when I think I know what’s good for me, that usually turns out to be bad advice, because if I act on my own will, it usually turns out anti climactic.

I should never take my own advice ever. Because I loose on every front.

I got a couple of new books in the mail today. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell and If On A Winters Night A Traveler by Italo Calvino. Both books came highly recommended by my writing teacher. He reads like I do, like a mad man. He also works in publishing, and is an author himself.

Usually what he reads, ends up on my read side table by my bedside.

So the week, five days, on self denial has passed. I am more the better for it. I don’t allow myself to take my own advice. Even if I want to.

Tonight we talked about the Sacred Circle, and what we can find within it, and when necessary, if needed, to go outside the sacred circle for help, that’s what we do. We are not doctors nor economists, nor marriage counselors.

If you need help that the rooms can not provide, Bill tells us that “If he was humble enough to seek outside help when necessary, and it was good for him, it might just be good for ourselves too.”

I have great friends who will go the distance with me. I have the best friends, and I am grateful for each and every one of them.

Thanks for reading. More to come.

Happy Weekend.

Uncomfortable

I posted earlier today about my head space this morning. it only got worse as the day progressed. I’ve been uncomfortable all night long. And even spending time with people I love, did not ease the discomfort.

I’m still stuck in my body.

There are things we get to talk about with our friends, those things could be any topic, for any reason, and my friends would listen. There is only one person who has been brought into the Fidelius Charm. There is nobody else, in on the charm.

He has challenged me to become the best version of myself. Which is why he is within the Charm.

And I’m not sure I should bother him, at the moment, because I know he’s filled with his own anxiety about the end of term and the amount of work he has to pump out in the next ten days.

What I have left, is pouring myself out here, and recording how my days are going, from one day to the next. As my daily routine goes forward, knowing what I know at this very minute, being around my friends makes me a little uncomfortable.

I have good friends, mind you, who would never question anything I tell them about me, because they all know me, very well. Sometimes better than I know myself.

I’ve added another layer of who I am to the mix, a few days ago.

On a separately Other track …

I was told tonight, by a good lady friend, that, certain doors have not opened up to me, on one arc of my story, so she told me to just put one foot in front of the other, until that particular door opens.

Because Sobriety does not have a destination …

Making choices, putting a plan into action takes certainty, or a little bit that sounds like certainty. You don’t know if the plan, will flourish in the future, so all we can do is put one foot in front of the other, and stay in our days.

Where have I heard that little gem before ???

Sobriety, and Life in Sobriety is about the day you are in, and even the moment you are in, right now.

Any choice you make in sobriety, is tempered by how well you deal with a twenty four hour period. And when you can’t talk about what’s going on with you, you need to figure out where you are going to drop your thoughts, which is why this platform exists.

For the longest time, this was about my readers. I posted content for my readers. But that tack changed when Brene Brown became part of my life.

This week, I decided that I was no longer drumming for readers or support from the outside world. I decided days ago, to spend my writing time, working on me, in open community.

I had to reconsider what this blog functioned as. BRAVING this blog, the way it was, was no longer tenable.

Now, I turn the attention off of others, and onto myself. For better or worse. I don’t have any gay friends, inside or outside the rooms. That means a no go, for open discussion on just about anything not relatable.

I know I can talk to my Fidelius Charm partner.

Now is not the moment, though.

I get to think out loud here instead.

Putting one foot in front of the other …

Emergency Key

The last three days have been interesting. My first choice in the device pieces (rings) were a bit too large, at 2 inches. And things were not fitting well. When I got up this morning, I decided to throw a Hail Mary Pass, and take a run into the village to seek out an emergency key, so I did not have to bother my key holder for my set. And change to a 1 and 7/8’s ring.

I was not sure if the keys that unlock the locks on this particular device were universal, meaning, that any key for this particular device will unlock any lock for this model. I arrived and my friend met me downstairs and quite nervously, I asked him for one of the keys.

He stopped and asked me why I needed a key from him, and who had my keys? I told him that my key holder had my set, and I needed to make a change to the set up, and could I use another key from the cabinet?

He gave me a key and I set into the bathroom for major surgery. This particular device has 2 parts, that must line up inside of pin holes in the master ring, connecting to the outer device. Then you have to unscrew/screw the locking pin, holding the two parts in an aligned setting.

Let me tell you that the first time I had to do this at home, when I bought it, took me a while. This morning, it took me even longer. It took me about twenty minutes to seal the deal, having stripped off my shirts, and drawing blood because I kept sticking myself with the connection pins, instead of lining them up with the pin holes in the master ring.

I’ve decided that this device is NOT coming off any time soon. In fact, I don’t think I am going to take it off for the term set out, because of the aggravation of trying to put it back together.

And even then, if I make it to the end, and not crack up, in between, I just might keep it in place until I feel the need to remove it.

That is … If I don’t crack up in the interim.


Key Holder

After yesterday’s technicolor dream and the prophetic nature of the message, I followed through to the end this morning.

I had researched my quest last night, and decided to go with my local seller, Priape and save some serious cash, on the exchange and shipping from the U.S.

The man who works in the fetish shop in the basement was there when I arrived. I’ve known him for over 18 years. We’ve been friends since the day he started working at Priape, and we’ve become good friends. So he knows all about me and my fetish likes and dislikes. Because he’s the one who sold me on every purchase I’ve ever made in the shop.

That is a good contact to have.

I learned a long time ago, when I moved to Montreal, that in Montreal, sex is a common subject. It is not taboo, and the fact that I said yesterday that there are sex shops scattered all over the city, speaks for itself.

In the Gay Village, Priape is our flagship store. We’ve kept that store open in the darkest of times, when at one point the shop had been sold, and they were going to just shut it down for good. We, the community, had other plans. We got the store re-opened and it rocks the community.

When I worked for Todd back in the 90’s, the bar was a hard core fetish bar, serving the leather community. Right up my alley. But Todd knew I had a dark side, and he kept men and myself apart, on purpose. Because he knew I could get into serious trouble if left to my own devices, which is why Todd took me in and forbade me to engage, and forbade the men in the bar to ever touch me, Period ! Those rules saved my life.

Because I can tell you honestly, that some of the hard core leather men who were sick (then) took down many of my younger friends in my age group. They got them addicted to drugs and alcohol, then infected them with AIDS, and all of them died in the end. I was the only young leather man left standing alive, when all was said and done.

Hundreds of people died. And I survived them all.

Moving to Montreal, I attempted to break into the community, that took a lot of work, but in the end, I failed because of the two solitude’s. If you did not speak French in a mostly French neighborhood, you were finished.

But I made some good connections in the process. The men at Priape became friends, who did not judge me because I did not speak French.

The Male Chastity fetish was born a couple of years ago. I watched it rise on Tumblr and within the limited Leather Community I was following online. After the dawning of this little denial of sex began to rise, the straight community took hold of it and ran with it.

The race to build the Best Mouse Trap began.

There are many companies that claim to have the best product. And since that dawn, I have watched the evolution of it grow exponentially. I know my personal sellers. Some ran well with it, where others, only dabble here and there.

Friends of mine, here in Montreal, engaged in this kink. I knew this because they told me so. I was kind of jealous that my friends had better sex lives than I had.

Truth … 17 years ago, when my husband was diagnosed as Bi-Polar II Rapid Cycling and the drugs were introduced to his body, over the ten months they dosed him with the myriad of drugs they were trying to see if they worked, at the end of the line, the man who went in, was NOT the man I got when he came out the other side. Our sex life all but died. We’ve not had sex, but maybe twice in the last 17 years. So fuck me now.

Let’s just say, that if I want to jerk off, I can. And there is nobody who is going to see or stop me.

Over the last little while, I’ve been in conversation with my friend, who shall remain nameless. He knows my situation, because he has his own.

I went to the shop and got my device. My friend showed me how it worked, and how it went on. I came home and wow, what a nightmare getting it on, but once it was on, it wasn’t coming off.

It isn’t a denial in full, until you give your keys away to someone who will hold them for you, for whatever period of time, until you want them back.

I had to get rid of my keys today.

I made the call to my friend, and we met for coffee and had quite the conversation. Because I told him, he was part of the dream last night. We talked honestly and openly.

I handed him my keys and told him that I did not want them back until the end of the summer when he comes back into Montreal for school. Now I am fucked until at least September. There is no going back now, I did not keep a back up key here, because that would be a temptation to cheat and unlock the device early.

He is going home to Alberta after this term, so he won’t even be here, to give me the keys back, even if I wanted them. He will have them on him. So I am doubly fucked.

But he agrees that knowing he’s holding those keys, will seriously remind him that he is also in the same boat as I am. Because he has the same issue that I do. So he knows he can join this challenge if he wants to. But just holding the keys, right now, is enough a deterrent to interrupt the cycle.

Lockup began at 11 am this morning. And will run, until at least September.

I don’t have the keys. And the device is locked.

Erotica …

When time permits, naps usually take place.

Sometimes when I nap, I pass from sleep state, into rem state. I know the feeling when I pass through that veil, and go somewhere else for a little while.

I felt the shift happen. And my mind lit up like a Christmas tree. I have never had a dream, like the one I had this evening. It was the most erotic dream I’ve ever had. It was totally of a topic I’ve never thought about, or concerned myself with for myself.

And I don’t usually write this kind of “sex charged” kind of material in open community. But If I don’t write it down now, I will forget it in an hour.

I was visiting friends, and everyone was having a good time. And we found, underneath the mattress in a bedroom, items that one does not usually have around the house, unless of course you were into that kind of kink.

Kink … is my middle name …

If you visit the kink side of life, in either the gay world or the straight world, kink is a thing, for some it is a way of life, some more than others.

Men and women do all kinds of kinky things, alone or together.

Male Chastity is a kink I am familiar with. I have watched it come into being, a while back, and at one point, chastity was all the rage in gay circles. Even the kinky straight people were getting in on the game. There are tons of straight kink sites who offer chastity devices.

Nothing like a kinky mistress to lock up her mans cock, so only she can enjoy it, and deny him the ability to touch it himself or get off …

It’s a great way to STOP a man from touching himself, for short periods of time, for long periods of time, and for the hard core players … To once and for all deny someone their dick FOREVER.

This does take place. I’ve seen straight couples do it, and I’ve seen some intrepid gay men do it too. All you need is a tube of epoxy, or a rivet gun. You can disable a lock permanently with epoxy or to rivet the lock permanently LOCKED !!!

Then You Are Fucked !!!

I don’t ever write about sexual topics here, but the dream continues.

I found a chastity device I thought was attractive, and I took the time it takes to actually put one on, sans the locking device. We were all joking around having a good time, and one of my friends walked up behind me and put a lock on my device. It’s hard to fight when there are more of them then there are of you.

Now I’m locked in this device, with no way out of it.

One of my favorite kink dealerships, offers a Platinum Key Agreement for $175.00 in the domestic U.S. Market. You buy your device and the additional $175.00 plan, and they send you your kit, along with return UPS envelope and your agreement that you fill out and sign. You send the pack back to them, WITH your keys, and you are off on your own adventure.

They will execute your plan as you desire. And will only return your keys when the time has been served. And not a day before…

Sadly, this Platinum service is not available in Canada. You’d have to find another human who will do the job, sans the $175.00 fee.

Anyways, where was I ?

Oh yes, Chastity.

The dream went on and on, for what seemed a long time. It’s almost a badge of courage if you take the plunge and actually lock yourself up. And to have someone who is equally as involved as you are.

Then I found myself in a forest, in the setting of a VR game. (VR-Vitual Reality). It was a familiar scene, with one of my friends there. One in particular. He shall remain nameless for the moment.

One of my friends and I talk sex a lot. In fact, the topic of sex has come up several times with three of my friends. Young men in sobriety, they like their alcohol, but more importantly, they really like sex.

And in early sobriety, they tell us, quite wisely, DON’T GET INVOLVED in your first year. Some of my friends don’t listen.

You know, you tell someone not to touch the stove because it is hot, REALLY HOT … and what do they do ? They Touch the Stove and get BURNED.

Admitting quite easily that they heard you, but still felt compelled to see just how hot the stove was.

One of my friends was in this dream. Another human being who could seriously learn from a stint in a chastity device.

Because if you cannot have sex with either a man or a woman, all of my friends in the program are straight, so they want to have sex, but we tell them not to, for their own well being and the well being of any girl who they are going to end up breaking her heart … as is usual for many !

What can you advise them to do ? Masturbate. Slap the Monkey, Crank one out, you get the idea.

The problem with masturbation comes with the added and quite possibly a tangent addiction … PORN.

Men are not immune to Internet Porn availability. We talk about it often enough, so I can address it here.

Sex is an issue that comes along with alcohol and drug addiction. Porn is just as addictive as alcohol and drugs, and can lead one into seedy behavior, if you don’t nip it in the bud. This only works if whomever you are talking to, has enough courage to be honest in all their affairs.

Back to the dream: Anyways, my one friend, who is nameless at the moment, asks me what this little device does, and instead of telling him, what it does, We lock one on to his member … so he can feel what it does to him.

We all laugh gleefully.

The dream continues for a bit, and in the end, I am locked up, along with my friend, and the dream fades to black.

Which then leads me to get up and search my sellers for a chastity device. There are a few sellers, that I shop from, by the by. Mr. S, Fort Troff, and Priape (here in Montreal).

Chez Priape – Sex Shop in Montreal

With the exchange being in the toilet, and knowing what the shipping charges are coming up from the U.S. I’m not going to spend over $200.00 CAD to buy internationally.

Looking closer to home, well, actually, just a few stops down on the Green Line, into “The Village” is our local, sex shop. In the village you can find sex, in all its forms. You can hit a Sauna, and find it. You can hit a bar, and find it, or you can go to a shop that specializes in all things SEX.

Little sex shops are scattered liberally all over the city. I usually shop at one a couple of blocks from home, just up the street, because I hate making the trip into the village, because that particular Metro Station is closed until June, and in minus -20c, I’m not walking from one end or the other, Papineau or Berri, into the village.

But it is warmer now than it has been all season.

I found me a device. It isn’t cheap, and I like that. I have had friends, in the past, who walked down this road, and made purchases either locally, or from international sellers, that ended up really becoming trouble for them.

If you’re gonna lock yourself up, better it be stainless steel or high grade plastic with genuine locks and keys. If you shop on the cheap, you will get what you pay for … CHEAP !

Some metal goods from other places, rust, fall apart, and caused serious medical issues for some of my friends. I’m not gonna go down that road myself.

So, are you sexual ? Do you like Sex ? Does this little piece titillate you?

It got my engine rolling.

Was the best damned dream I’ve ever had.

Culpability Defined

I am borrowing a post from a friend this morning. He writes better words than I do. https://steveawiggins.com/sects-and-violence-in-the-ancient-world/

What seems to be lacking in the United States government is any realization that actions have consequences.  While in Christchurch, New Zealand at least 49 people have been murdered only for being Muslim, Trump feels that tweeting “heartfelt” condolences somehow exculpates him from fostering an atmosphere of hatred.  Indeed, the main shooter in that travesty cited Trump as an inspiration.  The sickening lack of awareness that deeds have consequences has once again led to a body count.  Meanwhile in these states the Republican Party refuses to condemn the daily and consistent message of racism coming from an edifice that is more and more appropriately called the “White House.”  Do you have to pull the trigger to be guilty?  History will decide.  

Politics has always been a crooked game, but until 2016 most elected to the highest office—God help us, even George W. Bush—realized that the office had responsibility associated with it.  It wasn’t a place you could play loose and easy and tweet from the hip and think it was your right as “just another citizen.”  Muslims have been part of American culture from very nearly the beginning of this experiment in colonialism.  Freedom of religion was one of the pillars of democracy that Trump has been chopping down like a cherry tree while tweeting “No I didn’t.”  The GOP applauds.  Here’s how to instill one religion as the norm, not considering the consequences.  Massacres in the name of Christ don’t make you Christian.  Not cutting history class should be a requirement to run for elected office.  Or at least taking basic civics.  Instead we have a government that refuses to recognize that it can inspire murderers around the globe and then offer heartfelt condolences with no apologies.

Where is the condemnation of racism?  Where is the line between black and white?  Where is the sense of any culpability for creating and sustaining the warm, moist environment where the bacteria of hatred thrives?  When you awake to the news that yet another white supremacist has taken inspiration from an angry white man who has nothing to be angry about and has consecrated murder as patriotism how can you look the world in the eye?  Hiding behind a tweet does not bring back the dead.  How do we get the message through?  Millions of us have repeatedly marched in protest.  We flipped one house of congress and we daily sign petitions until our fingers bleed but no response comes from those who won by a mere technicality.  If there are indeed ghosts in this world there will be mass immigration and it shall be richly deserved.

We Will Lose Interest in Selfish Things

They say, or it has been said, “That at some point, you are going to hear someone tell your story.”

When it comes to storytelling, there is not another human being, on the English side, who has a story like mine. All the men I knew, in early sobriety, who had AIDS, are long since dead. I am the last.

Which leaves a sparse gay community of men, in my social circle, who are still alive today. I don’t have anything to do with those gay men, because our community is quite fractured.

Reciprocal friendships are hard to come by.

I am grateful that I have a handful of reciprocal friends. It may be a character defect that, people might think of us, by the by, and make the out call. I don’t sit at home and wait for an out call. I cannot be bothered to do that today.

I spoke about the Old Brewery Mission Meeting, that I attend on Sunday mornings. I like my Mission folks. They are great men and women. The Matriarchs are headed to Egypt right now for a three week tour of Cairo, the Nile river, and Saqqara.

The cycle of speaker/chair was interrupted Sunday. So I stepped in to chair and one of my friends, was asked to speak, as we restart the chain again.

Like I said above, at some point someone is gonna tell your story. I also said that nobody in this city, has my specific story. But, I heard my friend, on Sunday, tell his story. There are common themes between us.

When we drink and/or use, that theme is a constant because, if you are in the room, you abused the drink and the drugs. I’ve been dissecting my story over the years, and I can say that, when I was much younger, I was a good kid. I was a good son (take that or leave it), I was a good citizen, a good employee, and I was responsible, until alcohol took over.

As a younger employee, I really was not interested in drinking all the time, it wasn’t something I did regularly. Only when invited out to drink with friends, or when we threw a party in high school.

When alcohol was present, I became absent. I know this.

I had some of the best jobs a kid could have, growing up. I did really well, under pressure, and I did my job, as was needed.

When I moved away from home, with the delusion that was given to my inner memory bank, I was of single vision.

“Drink your way in, Wait for fireworks.”

I had eyes for one particular apartment, in a particular complex, that I clearly could not afford. I had a new car, that I could not afford either, and I had a job, that I went to, but in the end, everything was lost.

It is amazing to me, how selfish I became when it came to the procurement of alcohol. You cannot imagine, the amounts of alcohol I poured into my system on a weekly basis. And how narrow my honesty became.

The alcohol might have “gotten me in the door” but it did not “keep me in the club,” so to speak. Addicts and Alcoholics will lie, cheat and steal from their mothers, to score …

I justified my alcoholism against the abuse heaped upon me by my father. I called it Pay Back. All the lies I told, to hit my father where it hurt, worked.

I got the car.

But a lifetimes worth of resentments followed. And my father went to his grave, never knowing me, or even speaking my name on his deathbed.

We believe, for a while, that the drink and the drugs work, because we are getting one over on everybody else. Until that stops working.

OR

UNTIL A STOP SIGN APPEARS….

Like my friend on Sunday, we both got hit with the Stop Sign.

We both got deathly ill, and death WAS a foregone conclusion. We were both supposed to die. Thankfully, we are both, still, very alive.

We both knew what we did, once doctors told us we were going to die. My friend had serious health issues, that he found a work around to drink. Even at the worst of times, he figured out how to get and drink alcohol.

In my worst of time, waiting for the other shoe to drop, was excruciating. I was watching what was going on around me, in real time. The very ugly, painful, miserable, march to death, for my friends with AIDS.

I knew what was coming, and I had decided from the get go that I was not going to go out that way. I wasn’t doing drugs so much, but I was surely drinking to kill myself. As fast as I could hasten death, would have been good.

My friend, at his blotto end, found recovery, via rehabilitation.

I did not.

Rehab came to me, in the guise of Todd (read:God).

I had a room to go to. And I had a job. The room was not so healthy for me, neither was the bar, because what right alcoholic in recovery, makes his money working in a bar, of all places ?

I did. Because Todd was my boss.

All those negative things we do in active addiction, at some point, comes to a halt. And we have a choice to make. Go on to the bitter end, or we decide to live.

Selfish things, became something I was made aware of early on. The easiest way to change this tape, in our heads, is to actively do work against our wills.

Those would be: Hitting a meeting, or working with others.

I did hit meetings. but more importantly, I did not only work with others, I worked for others. Todd knew, that the less I thought about ME, or thought about what was going on in my head, the better.

The Brain/Thought Partition method worked wonders.

My friend having lived this long, volunteers several days a week, at Hospitals, Rehabs, and the Old Brewery Mission. He knows what to do today, to lengthen his life.

It was through hard work, on a daily basis, that saved me. You cannot avoid the specter of death, when everyone around you is dying. And selfishly, they choose to drink and drug themselves sick, into death. I watched this selfish behavior go on under our roof.

True, that family, friends, lovers, and employers had tossed all of these very sick men to the curb to die alone. We could not care for so many, all at once. It was way too much to take in and handle.

It was truly the worst of times.

But, there were some of us, who did whatever we could, on a nightly basis, to ease the pain, somewhat. We had what were, at the time, the best healthcare providers, we could find. Because there were NO dedicated doctors or clinics.

Hospitals would begrudgingly take AIDS patients into lock down, sterile wards, as nurses and doctors would MOON SUIT UP to touch us, fearing for their own lives, like we were there to INFECT THEM, by our mere presence in their wards. That was truly heartless and cruel.

Friends, seeing what had gone on with patients in hospitals, decided that they would never go to a hospital. But die, outside, on their own terms. Is that selfish ? I mean, really, when you have no choice, but to take what is left of your life, into your own hands, what is the other viable choice?

Todd knew many things about me. He knew how destructive I could become, if left alone. He also knew, the dark inner sanctum of my heart, and he went to great lengths to keep me at arms length from any man, who walked into the bar on any given night.

He was protecting me from myself, across the board.

You cannot remain selfish, when the work you do, every night, is working with others, or for others. I had a job. A really great job. I loved that job.

I wish I could go back in time and revisit that time, with one proviso: All the people who were there, need to be there again.

The Promises speak of many things changing, as we get sober. They don’t all come at once, and for sure, they might take a lifetime. I know how long they took to come to me.

The job we have in sobriety, is to be vigilant, on all those warnings that the Promises speak of, as changing. If we remain in our alcoholic stupor, we will suffer the negatives, for as long as they are given fuel.

We have a choice in sobriety, which wolf we are going to feed.

Illness, with a death diagnosis, does not discriminate.

When it comes to death, when someone mentions that word within a share, I sit up and listen. That commonality, is stark among us. People get sick, some get better, or end up in remission. But a good percentage do die.

Death is the end for everyone.

For some of us, we have faced our death days, and lived to tell the tale.

Which I do proudly, whenever I get the chance.

If you want to get OUT of yourself, work with OTHERS.