The Daily {W}rite June 2019 wk o4

The last week of June. I'm a bit sad. Summer is already here and I feel like I didn't use Spring well enough. Sorry, Spring. I'm thinking that all the "soul searching . . ." I probably said this before on this blog or in a poem . . . soul searching. Interesting idea. Could mean searching inside the soul for some answers to life both spiritual and physical. Or could be that we spend a lot of time looking for something that some people . . . a lot of people these days . . . think doesn't exist. The soul.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with a bit of a feeling of  . . . peace? All the stuff I've been working on, working on myself? I don't know, I woke up this morning with a bit of a clear picture about my self hate, my anger, my inability to let the past go  . . . away. I said picture? More like a reflection in a rippling pond. The edges of my . . . existence as an angry young (old) man. I wish I could tell you more or to tell you that my journey to peace was over and I've arrived at that calm within an angry storm . . . but like I said, it was just a picture, a distorted picture that had some truth that got through to me.

Tuesday, June 25, 2o19

Late getting up this morning. My body just doesn't like to go to sleep even when it's tired as hell! It's like that little kid who keeps calling for his mom from his dark bedroom. "Mom!" "What do you want?" Dad's growl is powerful making the half open door (that leads to the parents bedroom) shake on it's hinges. "I WANT MOM!" Heavy sighs, the squeaking of springs and then the thud of angry bare feet across a cold wooden floor. "What do you want , son?" Mother's voice soft and gentle . . . even when she is madder than hell.

Been working a bit on the "poetry project" and the blog. But not getting out to ride the bike as much. Need to do that. Need to exercise the body as much as I try to exercise the mind by writing and reading. Scrapped my arm on a corner of spackled drywall . . . hurt like hell. What was worse? When I woke up in the morning and saw this HUGE bruise, a bloody bruise just below the skin. You know, that nasty looking bruise old people get when they bump up against something. Before this "accident" I'd noticed this under the skin discoloration and went to the doctor  . . . he just laughed and said, "Just another one of those things you have to deal with as an elderly." Well, the good news I got from that? It wasn't life threatening.

Wednesday, June 26, 2o19

I've been talking poetry/art with this Facebook friend from Denmark. He asked me today how I would define my poetry writing style? Hmm. Took me a few minutes to come up with . . . My style of writing mostly comes from my theatre experience. Mostly, I think I write in what would be a monologue style . . . mostly. But I also consider myself a . . . hyperrealist? not sure that that's an actual word but hyperrealism is the blending of reality with a virtual (non-realistic) reality . . . creating within a poem a third reality . . . which is pretty much what all art does. Often enough I hear a question on Facebook about movies  . . . which movies are based on real life? My answer is all art is based on real life  . . . sort of. At least, all art is inspired by the real life of the artist or artists, directly or indirectly. But the creative impulse is also inspired by the artist's (or artists') imaginary reality. The imagination inspires the artist to create.

Thursday, June 27, 2o19

Well, finally got a call from David: "I gotta go to the doctors. Wanna go?" Damn, I was worried about him and so was his kids. He'd been sick for at least 2 weeks. And when he picked me up . . . boy, h's face was flushed, and he just looked so tired. So we went to the doctors . . . to the grocery store where David just piled the yogurt into the shopping cart . . . then to Braum's where he picked up two BIG containers of ice cream (don't know what flavor) WHICH signaled to me that he's getting home, locking the doors, taking his antibiotics . . . and we probably won't see him again until he beats this thing!

Friday, June 28, 2o19
Okay, so I have been on this positive attitude towards everything that slaps me up side the face from friends, enemies, or total strangers on and off of Facebook . . . But last night  . . . well, we got into this discussion about the proper spelling of the word theater . . . is it t-h-e-a-t-e-r OR t-h-e-a-t-r-e  . . . so, you know conversation went on a while and people (all people who are deep into theatre (live theatre) had comments . . . I had a few . . . before you know it, the "experts" start getting on me about not knowing the origin of the spelling t-h-e-a-t-r-e, and they go on and on with their pretentious "I'm a theatre professor, and you're not" bull shit and I just . . . ended their friendship with me on Facebook. I didn't get angry, depressed, didn't shout or scream about it . . . I did write a poem about it: Scream, thrash the air,/open fist . . . Scream/like a crow in the darkness./Peck the eyes from/the offending shadows/until their laughter stops./I have watched on nights/like this one, down by/the river's edge, I have/watched the river raging,/running on broken legs,/listened to its frightened/voice . . . its tears/no different from my own." So, I just unfriended the academic bull-shitters . . . and plan to say no more about it . . . except for this entry on my blog.

Saturday, June 29, 2o19

o1. Well, up early. Not early-early . . . but early for me, nine in the morning. Went to sleep at four in the morning . . . so . . .
o2. As I think I said above . . . I'm tired of pretentiousness, people who just love to tell you how "smart" they are and how "stupid" you are. I'm done with them . . . for now. (And I also said above I wasn't going to mention it again . . . I'm such a LIAR!)
o3. Trolls are out from under the bridges today. I responded to two of them . . . which I regret. Not because they are still goading  me . . . I just feel bad about answering them back. Bad for myself.
o4. Life has a way of reviving itself  . . . it's not killed off as easily as one would expect.
o5. The distance between the darkness and enlightenment can't be measured merely in feet and inches . . . Spirit needs to be taken under consideration. The strength of one's spirit to carry the torch of enlightenment is the key thought I'm munching on.
o6. Things to do tomorrow . . . drop off rent, mail the cable bill . . . something I need at the store . . . not remembering what. David's still sick so out on the bike I go which I need to continually do more of.
o7. I go from sad to angry to mellowed out in less than 5 seconds. Yeah, pretty big jolt from one emotion to another . . . rollercoaster . . . no . . . more like a lopsided ball bouncing off the walls. Drains you of any desire to do anything. Eat, go for a walk, even sleep is too weary of a chore to take on.


Sunday, June 30, 2o19

Well . . . here it is  . . . a funeral and a christening to follow . . . yes, the end of a month. I don't have that much to say right now. Out into the world today after three days of solitary confinement . . . self imposed. But bills are begging me to turn them in on time. My bank account is highly susceptible to embarrassment whenever a bill is payed late.

4:56 pm
Back from what turned out to be one hell of a pleasant ride. Not at all as hot as the weather guy was saying. Warm, yes. Nice breeze though pushing me and my bike along at a nice pace. Clouds I can't help but stare optimistically  at the Oklahoma sky in late spring. Buffalo shaped, white clouds just moseying along in a ghost rider sky.

So, this is the last . . . okay, I already said that. It's been a mostly productive week.  Smiling more and relaxing more . . . a few ghosts showing themselves in the disguise of friendship. One thing bothers me most. When I go riding on the bike my head drifts off course to stare at a bad memory or two. Yeah, memories. The trolls of the mind. I don't know why I trail off into the Depression Zone . . . but that's exactly where I go. I even forget sometimes that I am actually riding down the street where  there are cars that would love to bounce me and my mountain off their front bumper. Anyway, that's it for this week. Enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. {smiles}