I want to go take pictures somewhere far away.

I was in In-n-out yesterday. It was such a nice day. Mid-spring feeling. And it made me want to go to mexico. The people there made me want to go to mexico.

I miss it.

Wheelchairs. Yep. Wheelchairs. Those seats with rollers on them.
Actually… more of the people in them.
Technically… I am more afraid of praying for those people. It is a strange fear, kind of like jumping off a rock into the water below. You want to, you know it will be awesome, but you are rather afraid of the rocks that might be lurking just under the surface.
Do I jump and die? Do I land in the water with a weak splash? Or do they get up and walk?

I went to Texas to eat at a Denny’s. Billy was our waiter. He had a few teeth missing and was pretty hard to understand. He would talk fast and in some strange accent and you would thing you heard “that’ll be two dollars,” out of “We’ll have to open a new bottle.”
But Billy was cool. I liked Billy. I always go to these places and never really go to these places. To me, Florida is an airport, a hotel, and a columbian resturant. Denver is two different hotels, the same airport, an Italian resturant, and some other resturant. Now Dallas is one airport, two hotels, ruth’s chris, Denny’s and Billy.

    “Since the coming of these nuns the innocence and peace fo the monks are at an end.”
    “I readily believe it, “answered the blessed Mael. “For woman is a cleverly constructed snare by which we are taken before we suspect the trap. Alas! the delightful attraction of these creatures is exerted with even greater force from a distance than when they are close at hand. The less they satisfy desire the more thy inspire it. This is the reason why a poet wrote this verse to one of them:

    When present I avoid thee, but when away I find thee.

Thus we see, my son, that the blandishments of carnal love have more power over hermits and monks than over men who live in the world. All through my life the demon of lust has tempted me in various ways, but his strongest temptations did not come to me from meeting a woman, however beautiful and fragrant she was. They came to me from the image of an absent woman. Even now, though full of days and approaching my ninety-eighth year, I am often lead by the Enemy to sin against chastity, at least in thought. At night when I am cold in my bed and my frozen old bones rattle together with a dull sound I hear voices reciting the second verse of the third book of the Kings: “Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my lord the king a young virgin: and let her stand before the kind and let her cherish him, let her lie in thy bosom, that the lord the king may get heat,’ and the devil showed me a girl in the bloom of youth who says to me: ‘I am thy Abishag; I am thy Shunamite. Make, O my lord, room for me on thy couch.’
    “Believe me,” added the old man, “it is only by the special aid of Heaven that a monk can keep his chastity in act and in intention.”