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I post whatever strikes my fancy that I find beautiful, amusing, affecting, shocking, creative, important. I post about recovery from alcoholism, art, science fiction, poetry, animals, humor, nature, photography, mental illness, and politics.

I am a recovered alcoholic with schizo-affective disorder, which is like bipolar disorder with some extra crazy thrown in. My symptoms are under control with medication and therapy.

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hookersorcake:

Garden Party
talking about insurancetalking about refinancetalking all the numbers
while the dream of lightsings through the treestumbling down aroundus
somewhere in the equationa toad belches
ah, this lifecan be such a tedious thingremember to dismember yourselffrom time to time
fall out of your mindstumble lost in the shadow
the bright side of the dark sidethe only successfailure

hookersorcake:

Garden Party

talking about insurance
talking about refinance
talking all the numbers

while the dream of light
sings through the trees
tumbling down around
us

somewhere in the equation
a toad belches

ah, this life
can be such a tedious thing
remember to dismember yourself
from time to time

fall out of your mind
stumble lost in the shadow

the bright side of the dark side
the only success
failure

2 days ago
93 notes
msnbc:

The data speaks for itself. 

msnbc:

The data speaks for itself. 

1 week ago
362 notes
For every situation that I’m 10% responsible for, I’m 100% responsible for my role in it.
Jack B., AA member, 5 years (via aapigeon)

(via aapigeon)

2 weeks ago
14 notes
An alcoholic is someone who’ll piss in his soup, then complain to the chef.
hookersorcake:

summer afternoons the backyard so quietyou can hear the TVin the house
an old rerun aboutthe future spacemanwho plays a fool
travels into the pastof our right nowand falls on his swordand for a hot flash secondyou forget who you areyou forget everything
Everything.
all this sensuous griefuntucked and singingsubterranean veins of rustedblood and bone
we are no moreor lessthan everything

hookersorcake:

summer afternoons
the backyard so quiet
you can hear the TV
in the house

an old rerun about
the future spaceman
who plays a fool

travels into the past
of our right now
and falls on his sword

and for a hot flash second
you forget who you are
you forget everything

Everything.

all this sensuous grief
untucked and singing
subterranean veins of rusted
blood and bone

we are no more
or less
than everything

2 weeks ago
123 notes