Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 2


In Plain Sight

When there is a problem, I hide. As the good places diminish I end up standing behind a pole. The trouble with this is that something always sticks out. I try weight loss, I suck in my tummy, I try to blend with the scenery. Once spotted I act nonchalant; “I’m just hanging around with my skinny friend; nothing is the matter,” attempting to cover with a casual aside what is apparent to everyone but me. I would be better off parading naked than endeavoring this piteous disguise. I can’t fool the crowd and trying to makes a fool of me. What I have forgotten is that clarity and diligence removes the target from my back and makes me invisible to almost everyone. When I solve my problem I solve this problem too.




Permit anxiety to drip off you and flow away


*

WALKING JOY HOME

I make sure to walk joy home,
Not because I doubt her ability to find it alone
Rather because it gives me extra time with her.

I used to fear joy.
That I would be intoxicated by her presents
And lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.

Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism
That it was only cynicism
Masquerading in its place.

Joy is simple and unassuming,
I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror
Joy is nice to have around she is not just a party animal.

Sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.
When we are done I take the winding path
To savor every step up to her door.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 3



Big Name


My name has a foreign sound; my head turns when it is called. I recognize this as training not identity. I remember teaching the dog her name. I called it while petting and praising her, soon the name was hers. Now, I think of G-d. Did we call long and loud enough to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible? Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable; assigned it a place on a shelf; somewhere to be called up from? Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?






Check for low doorbells and high expectations

*

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.
Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.
If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.

If I arrest my misgivings
Gratification in the voluptuousness of now ---is velvet.
Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.

Fighting fiercely for both sides
Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.
I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness
.
There is more than one path to take
And I must take that one.

[Tommi]

Friend's of Bill, Lois Jimmy and other 12 Steppers.
8/21/ 2010-Sat.
7:45am-8:45am

Hosted by Tommi & LeftwriteFemme

RSVP to Tommi for Coffee and Peabody location


I revised the time, so it doesn't run into the other 9AM events.
LeftWriteFemme will post other LGBT meetings in Little Rock, AR.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 4




Sleep Tight

Did you dream? Sleep the sleep of faultless souls? Or twist the sheets as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment? Are night time wrestlings an indication of decadent day- time activity? Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance? Possibly something I ate? Thought? Wished for? I think to myself I should not have gotten into that unmade bed, should have made it up; the bed and my mind, should have straighten out the crumpled mass of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh, but instead I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed, lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea. What time I save by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows. All is not lost, there is always tonight. Sweet dreams straight ahead.




Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency
The other becomes reflective.
When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me
I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities
I must print the picture and post it on the wall.
For one day may come when addiction appears
As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me
And my sensibilities catch on fire.
The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,
The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting
I cannot count on shadows for predictions.
I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember
And hold hands and never let go.

[TenderKnight]

I just want to say this.. Nothing can lift my heart or my spirits more then waiting in line for cake with a bunch of older Queens and hearing them bitch about how big they are cutting the slices and that they want some of the GOOD aka homemade cake.. I was kinda feeling off during the meeting but standing in line and hearing that just struck me as the greatest thing in the world.. mainly cause I could see that they are just as crazy as I am.. lmao.. I wanted the good cake too!!

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by TenderKnight

I just want to say this.. Nothing can lift my heart or my spirits more then waiting in line for cake with a bunch of older Queens and hearing them bitch about how big they are cutting the slices and that they want some of the GOOD aka homemade cake.. I was kinda feeling off during the meeting but standing in line and hearing that just struck me as the greatest thing in the world.. mainly cause I could see that they are just as crazy as I am.. lmao.. I wanted the good cake too!!

SWEET..thanks for the post.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 5



What are We Fighting For



Instead of competition for dominance we would benefit from cooperation for survival. The struggle to become the very best destroyers in the world very well might make us postmortem champions. Why is it that the lions don’t work to eradiate hyenas? They could, but they don’t. Why not, is the ever present question on my mind. I have no answer as to why we strive to conquer. A thousand platitudes come to mind, but nothing fast or tight, nothing that holds water. So, the question remains; why are we hell bent?







Welcome help
*

MY TALE

I must be my own tattletale.
I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease
Anything I nurture and protect will grow and take me over.

It is up to me to choose if I will feed my ailment or my health
My life will be consumed that is a guarantee,
All things feed into others.

The direction this meal takes is my daily decision.
The bull’s eye can be hit if I describe the target.
The ending will be happy if the story I tell is my own.