April, The Daily {W}Rite 2o15 wk o4

Thursday,

April 23rd. One month from today I'll have had 67 years on this planet. Got me to thinking about age and all the little clichés people throw at you when you start getting old . . .  all those wise-old-sayings about "being" alive for a long time. One of my favorites to hate? "You're as old as you feel." If that's true I'm a hell of a lot older than 67 . . . I "feel" like a thousand years have gone by. And there's always the one that people have no qualms about shouting out when you're feeling lower than the Dead Sea:  "Life is too short to be sad." Hey, not to me. It seems I've been emotionally under the weather my whole life . . .  and this "sad," little existence I'm surviving just keeps going on and on . . . Sure you take a nap once in awhile just to breakup the monotony of consciousness, but life's always there staring at you through the bedroom window the moment you wake up!

I remember at 23, just out of the Marine Corps, living with my sister and her family, riding along with my then brother-in-law (who was a cop), going to the local grade school to pick-up my nieces. I saw this crossing guard old man walking some kids across the street  . . . bright yellow safety vest, make believe cop hat, waving a big red and white "stop sign on a stick" at us. "Man," I chuckled, "that dude is really old." Brother-in-law stared at me with a huge, fake smile on his face, "That man is only 30 years old." So, what, I was thinking, to me that's fucking OLD! Hell, at the time I had no expectation of seeing 30 years old. It would be unnatural to go passed the three tens . . . "Trust nobody over thirty!" "Hope I die before I get old." That was my train of thought. But the guy who wrote that last line, Pete Townshend, he's now 69. Like me I bet he never thought there was life after 30. Hell, I thought I'd hit 30 and bam! I'd just disappear. Didn't happen. Yes, I am slowly dissolving into nothingness . . . but we all are doing that . . . from the day we step out of that womb-with-no-view we've been dying. Some of us just take a lot longer to get to the end . . . Damn you, Beckett, for putting this existential nonsense inside my HEAD! {smile}

Saturday, April 25, 2o15
It seems to be too difficult any more to just sit down and work on my writing, work on my poetry, hell, work at anything. Lazy? lethargic? Just too old to care about being creative? I don't know. I'm just not interested in doing anything other than "playing" around on Facebook or watching TV. I miss my creative self, my energetic self . . . I use to have
such a kick-ass abundance of creative energy. I never worried about my art , how good or bad it might turn out, I just did it.

Did get one thing done this last week, though. Got that piece of art I purchased last Art Walk framed. Though it was a cheap metal frame with a white matting job thrown in, it cost about $25.00, five dollars more than the painting cost me. One of the Hobby Lobby workers really liked the picture. I told him about the artist, Manda Shae Dickinson, how she was from Lawton and just recently arrived in Norman. I didn't think about it until just now, but I should've gotten her to sign it, damn it. Anyway, I need to get in the writing "mood" again. I need to start getting creative again. I miss it.