Yesterday at the bakery I stood outside talking with Juan and Eddie and a baby wasp climbed up my leg and bit me on the back of my thigh. Today it itches and is swollen to softball size proportions. I should put more Calamine on it.
The homily from St. Boniface this morning was on the prodigal son. Am I lost? Does my questioning and restlessness and anxiety demonstrate my lack of faith? I don't seek riches or fame or glory. I seek love and I must do without it. Oh right, I can love the homeless, well there are many for whom compassion flows with ease, but the clubbers, the loud and obnoxious and ungrateful ones, the flow slows.
And... no word from beyond. The weather chills close to 40F last night. Sunday. I continue reading Dorothy Day's "The Delight of Duty." Leaving in the middle of the night. Forgive me father, I am broken. I wish no harm, I seek peace and I do not seek confrontation. If I do go abroad I will go with no more than eight dollars in my pocket. You think it's hard being homeless and broke here? Try the desert. Only I'll just be broke.
In isolation I can control earthly desires. See no evil, smell no evil, touch no evil and so forth. In the big house the only desires are to eat. And it is feast or famine around here. Yesterday I came back from the bakery and Harry and his band of merry anarchists left a lot of food. Hamburgers and cherry pie and a pasta dish were ample and good. When things run out, and they do in cycles though I haven't figured the cycle yet, it's peanut butter and jelly. For breakfast if I am fortunate it's a couple of eggs, toast, a yogurt, a glass of orange juice and a coffee. But sometimes it's just coffee and toast. Please understand I don't complain, I am grateful.
No one will blame me for seeking employment elsewhere. This place is tough. It's just how you leave and you're kind of morally responsible for giving some notice. I would do that if I were assured I'd be going but I am not assured until I see a ticket and then I will have to move fast, if that is I can afford to do it. It's nothing personal.
An interview with a school in Kurdistan tomorrow appears to be in jeopardy. It's all about timing and having a headset with a microphone. Well, the school told me I'd need at least a thousand clams on me until I received my first salary, ok, how about eight bucks? It sucks being poor.
A new worker was supposed to have shown up yesterday. He didn't. I wondered if there was going to be a coincidence with him coming and me maybe leaving. No such deal. It does appear though, when I begin second guessing ahead of events I am usually very wrong with the outcome. Why do I feel selfish wishing to meet someone to love? I think of three, two past, one a distant present. It is all meaningless. Solomon was such a cheerful dude.
The homily from St. Boniface this morning was on the prodigal son. Am I lost? Does my questioning and restlessness and anxiety demonstrate my lack of faith? I don't seek riches or fame or glory. I seek love and I must do without it. Oh right, I can love the homeless, well there are many for whom compassion flows with ease, but the clubbers, the loud and obnoxious and ungrateful ones, the flow slows.
And... no word from beyond. The weather chills close to 40F last night. Sunday. I continue reading Dorothy Day's "The Delight of Duty." Leaving in the middle of the night. Forgive me father, I am broken. I wish no harm, I seek peace and I do not seek confrontation. If I do go abroad I will go with no more than eight dollars in my pocket. You think it's hard being homeless and broke here? Try the desert. Only I'll just be broke.
In isolation I can control earthly desires. See no evil, smell no evil, touch no evil and so forth. In the big house the only desires are to eat. And it is feast or famine around here. Yesterday I came back from the bakery and Harry and his band of merry anarchists left a lot of food. Hamburgers and cherry pie and a pasta dish were ample and good. When things run out, and they do in cycles though I haven't figured the cycle yet, it's peanut butter and jelly. For breakfast if I am fortunate it's a couple of eggs, toast, a yogurt, a glass of orange juice and a coffee. But sometimes it's just coffee and toast. Please understand I don't complain, I am grateful.
No one will blame me for seeking employment elsewhere. This place is tough. It's just how you leave and you're kind of morally responsible for giving some notice. I would do that if I were assured I'd be going but I am not assured until I see a ticket and then I will have to move fast, if that is I can afford to do it. It's nothing personal.
An interview with a school in Kurdistan tomorrow appears to be in jeopardy. It's all about timing and having a headset with a microphone. Well, the school told me I'd need at least a thousand clams on me until I received my first salary, ok, how about eight bucks? It sucks being poor.
A new worker was supposed to have shown up yesterday. He didn't. I wondered if there was going to be a coincidence with him coming and me maybe leaving. No such deal. It does appear though, when I begin second guessing ahead of events I am usually very wrong with the outcome. Why do I feel selfish wishing to meet someone to love? I think of three, two past, one a distant present. It is all meaningless. Solomon was such a cheerful dude.
Hello john I am suman and how is your life going there. Hopw you are good and you are on the way to job. Have a good time.
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