The Daily (W)Rite January WK o4

The Daily (W)Rite

wk o4

Thursday
It's already the 4th week of January. I don't know if the cliché, "time is short," is more metaphoric than scientific, but as far as me getting started on my book of Oklahoma inspired poetry . . . this month really ran by me . . . I do have a poem about time that might be appropriate:

                                      Time

 

Sometimes the day gets away from me,

running ahead of me like my brother
who was always in such a hurry,
stretching his hideously long legs
out in front of his adult size body,
moving at what seemed to me
a million miles an hour.
And no amount of pleading,

 

"Come on, man, slow down!"

 

could stop his momentum.

He’d pick up speed and disappear
around the corner before I could catch him.

 

It’s not that we run out of time,

but that time runs out on us,
runs out of patience waiting for us.

 

We need to get on with it,

get after it with all we got
or time will turn the corner
and disappear forever.
rrw o5-1o-12 (rewrites o9-15-14)

Saturday, January 24, 2o15

Yesterday, I went back to smoking. Don't get all rolly-eye on me. It was just one day until I could get some nicotine gum. However, it did kind of point out the fact that though I'm pretty much over the whole cigarette addiction, my body and mind are nowhere close to kicking the nicotine habit out the fucking door!

 

I am So shocked by BALLSGATE! How could NO ONE not know if the balls you're handling all day long are deflated or fully blown? The refs should have known right off. I mean, they're grabbing the player's balls after every play. And what about the ball blower guy? Why didn't somebody ask him (or her), "Hey, did you blow these balls up to the right . . . blow capacity?"

I was extremely proud of my ability to tap into my 12 year old self and come up with some original "BALLS" humor long before anyone on my Facebook page did! However, now that all the political pundits have turned BALLSGATE into a full blown, professional football scandal, I'm pretty much over it . . . and I'm also WAY over the political debate about whether or not the term should be "Muslim Terrorists" or just plain "Terrorists." I mean, really? We're going to haggle over a definition? I suppose IF we include all Muslims in our phrase then that'll make it okay to stop and frisk anyone wearing a taqiyah or totin' a copy of the Quran. But is that what we want to do? Jail anyone who's dressed in the religious garb that we've designated as "terrorist apparel?" Hmmm. Ham Sandwich ! That's it! Why don't we call ALL terrorists Ham Sandwich? We can waylay anyone carrying or resembling or impersonating a Ham Sandwich!

Here's my problem: Whether you decide to use the word "Terrorist" or  the phrase "Muslim Terrorists" is (in America, at least)  based solely on your political affiliation. Conservatives go for the moniker Muslim Terrorists because they believe all Muslims are terrorists, and liberals believe that most Muslims are not terrorists so they use Terrorists. And I say BALLSGATE to both sides of the aisle. We are wasting too much time on a trivial matter. We're more interested in debating definitions than getting off our partisan asses and putting a stop to terrorism. No more grandstanding. Get something done about all those mass murderers who use religion as an excuse to kill the world. {No smile today.}

Sunday, January 25, 2o15

Yes, it is 2:38 AM and I should already be sleeping. Well, no, that's not quite right. The disappointing fact is I AM usually wide awake this particular time of the early morning without a hope of getting to sleep before five or maybe six. However, I do make the effort  to go to bed much earlier . . . I lay there for a while . . . twenty minutes or so . . . before I pop up, go to the computer, turn it BACK on and maybe play a few hands of solitaire, or see if any one has "liked" me on Facebook and hope I get to sleep before dawn. And if necessary, I work a bit on my blog. To be totally honest, I don't have much to say at what is it now 2:46 . . . oopps . . . 2:47 AM! But a big part of this blog is to train myself to write, to get myself ready to write my poetry book.  So, I'm guessing it's better for the development of my writing skills to just go ahead and write. Well, I think I've done all I need or can do tonight . . . I mean this morning. I'm heading for the couch!

Tuesday, January 28, 2o15

I haven' yet seen the movie American Sniper, but I  have definitely listened to all the controversy surrounding this movie, boy, have I heard it. I'm not sure exactly why people get all nasty about it, I mean, it's just a movie. But that doesn't seem to matter much. I think all the hubbub started with the fact that American Sniper made a LOT of money at the box office and that Clint Eastwood directed it. Most of all, I really think that the political Left and Right just needed something to fight about . . . Hey, what better target than a movie about the Iraq War that America has been involved in for, for . . .  well, it feels like forever.

The controversy ball really got rolling when Michael Moore called snipers (in general) cowards. That really set the conservative right off! Which, in turn, got the rest of the liberal left going. Well, you get the idea. Everybody had a point of view about "the war" and the people who supported it or didn't support it. And then the news got hold of the story and just ran crazy with it. Both Fox News and MSNBC just had a field day bringing in all kinds of "experts" to prove their point. I thought everyone got so carried away with supporting whichever side they were on that the movie got lost. Like I said, I haven't seen it yet so I don't know if the movie is good or not. And it doesn't seem to matter to the Right or the Left if the movie is good or bad. They're having too much fun fighting with each other.

Wednesday, January 28, 2o15
The end of another month. The weather warmer than normal for Norman Town this wintery time of year. But I'm enjoying it. Got the air-conditioner on low, and it's nice to be able to wear shorts in January.

David just called and I need to go for a writer's conference at 10 tonight. His son, Michael, has decided to explore his artistic side. He changed his major in medicine to a major in film. Just like that. He is, however, finding the transition from a medical degree to a fine arts degree a bit challenging. He's got some friends who are working with him on some projects, but they aren't quite dedicated enough for him. He's thinking of this whole filmmaking thing as a job, and his friends seem to think of it as more of a "fun, do it when it doesn't interfere with other stuff" type of thing. I wish him luck with it.

Friday, January 3o, 2015

Brewhouse

I like the way the bartender runs around with her huge, metal earrings smacking her upside the jaw each time she halts, slaps the bar top’s face with her white bar towel. I love how she sops up the tiny puddle of beer glass sweat that she just knocked unconscious with that first, deadly blow. And suddenly, like a red-tailed hawk, off she flies to the other side of the liquor island just in time to ask the bearded drunk seated at the center stool if he'd like another.

 

"Can I get a cup of coffee?" I shout. I must shout to be heard over the unidentifiable Hipster song blasting from the jukebox. The Keeper glares at me, scans me from head to foot, foot to head and back to my eyes, visually frisked by her angry blue eyes."Yeah, but no refills," she warns. "Okay, can I get a burger too?" “You got $12.47?” I slide a twenty towards her. She swoops it up, examines it with the keen suspicion of . . .  a red-tailed hawk.

 

At pool table #3: Sorority girls giggle like ducks as they chug huge glasses of beer and watch the football player lean over the table to make a difficult shot. He doesn't make it and his adoring gaggle of meticulously clean girls falls silent.

And all becomes clear to me, as clear as beer in a glass: I haven’t shaved in three days, my shirt’s stained a dirty yellow . . . from what? Hell I don’t know. My jeans haven’t seen a washing machine in months, I’m old and tired, I don’t drink anymore. I just don’t fit in this place, this renovated space filled to the brim with young college students and a red-tailed bartender who’s sure that I’m up to no good.

The Daily (W)Rite January 2o15 WK 3

The Daily (W)Rite

wk o3

Saturday, January 17, 2o15
I think it was Thursday that David and me took a short stroll around the Duck Pond. It was a favorite place for me during my undergrad and graduate student days. And it's changed a lot since then, but the feel is about the same. I don't know how to describe it. A sense of calm? The Duck Pond is probably as close to "enjoying" nature that I have ever gotten.

As soon as we walked onto the yellow, dead grass, the geese and ducks started towards us quacking their tiny heads off. But as soon as they realized we didn't have food to give them . . . they stopped their squawking, turned their fat, feathered butts around and headed back towards the water. Bastards!

BUT I would not be denied. I crept up behind this rather large goose, pointed my camera at him, yelled something like, "HEY! GOOSE!" and snapped my pic and ran away from what you can see was one pissed off water fowl! Yeah, that's right, I ran away . . . just like a little baby man.

Back in my healthier days I ran the Duck Pond. Yeah, there was a time when I ran . . . a lot. I'm thinking that the running path around and through the Pond was about a mile . . . maybe a little less. They had a few exercising apparatuses. You could stop for a second during your jog to do a rope climb, climb up a set of stairs made from round pieces of cut log, do a few set-ups . . . I never understood people who jog in place on a indoor jogging machine. Jogging needs to be done outside with the sun shining on your back, your head torso gleaming with sweat. The feel of the ground beneath your shoes, or for you hardcore runners beneath your bare feet! Yeah, that's the way to run.

Though the OU powers that are (hee!) are basically eliminating the Duck Pond on square foot at a time and replacing it with a "lovely"  parking lot, they haven't, as of yet, touched the stone bridge. The stone Bridge! Kissed a girl or two (not at the same time) on that bridge. Back when I was with "The Love Of My Life," we spent a lot of late afternoons on the bridge watching the ducks, the rather elusive turtles that stuck their heads out of the water just long enough to gulp down some air and then disappear back into the murky depths of the Duck Pond as if they never surfaced at all. Best time of day to watch the ducks and geese? Right at sunset. They all start going nutty, flying around and around pond squawking their heads off as the sun goes down.

Sunday, January 18, 2o15

Anyway, it was a little bit cold out and David and I both were getting a bit tired. Yeah, I know, them old guys {sigh}. But on the way to the car, we stopped to watch this two cute little squirrels chasing each other around while they searched for acorns. They were so CUTE I had to get a picture. So, pulled the old camera out and got shot of this one

sitting on a log. Then all of a sudden this rat turned and RAN straight at me! He was fast. I was laughing and backing up as I continued to take shot of this little guy just booking it towards me. ""Don't let him bit you!" David yelled, "They got rabies!" Holy shit rabies! That freaked me out.  I dropped the camera to my side and stared at the little bushy shit, saying something like, " Hey there little fella!" I was always told never to show fear in front of a wild animal! 

 Well, turns out he REALLY wasn't lunging at me but at a bit of food that was directly in front of me. Yeah, I knew that. So did David. What? You think we were really afraid of  Chip n Dale! Come on! I'm war harden Vietnam VET! I ain't 'fraid of no fluffy rat no matter how cute he is, and David is a tough old activist from the 60's! "Hell NO! We won't GO!" That's what David should've said to that squirrel! I'm sure he meant to {smile}.

Monday, January 19, 2o15
So, I was wanting to go to the Regal this morning and watch the movie Selma. You know, it being MLK Day it seemed like cool thing to do . . . AND . . . I riding there on my bike to start the exercise program my doctor suggested was also a part of the plan. The Regal's about 4 miles away from home. That distance would be a good start to my New Year's resolution to get MORE exercise. So, got up at eight o'clock this morning-well, I did wake up at eight . . . but didn't crawl off the couch (yes, I sleep on a small couch) until ten o'clock or so. It's hard for me to get up in the morning these days. But I did get up and was ready to pack-up everything I would need for my trip to the Regal. Let's see: 1. Book to read if I stop off at a coffee shop. 2. Reading glasses. 3. Winter gloves JUST in case it got cold all of a sudden. 4. I checked my camera to make sure it had a fresh battery then popped it into the backpack. What else? Oh, yeah: Helmet on . . . check. Riding gloves on  . . . check. Keys around my neck and hoodie on . . . oh, lots of nicotine gum in my pockets AND my "rescue" inhaler . . . AND out the door I went!

It was a beautiful day, a light breeze in the air, my bike recently tuned up . . . wonderful day for a ride! Five minutes into it? I'm out of breath, I can't breathe, I stop to sit on a pedestrian's bench near Main St. I grab the "rescue" inhaler . . . two big puffs. Damn. I didn't get farther than maybe a quarter mile. Sadly, I smiled as I thought of that old exercise slogan: "Use it or lose it!" Yeah, I guess I waited too long . . . I lost it. {frown}

Tuesday, January 20, 2o15
I've been reading a couple of books about the 5th dimension. It's making my head explode!

Well, at least it's giving me a bit of a headache. I like the idea of other dimensions, that some dimensional creature is watching us, that it, every now and then, enters our world and we see it, but we don't REALLY see it in it's entirety because we can't see beyond our three dimensional space. I have often thought that what we perceive as ghosts may well be dimensional travelers! Of course science would scoff at me, but it would be a way to explain things like ghosts and (I hear the scoffing starting up again!) the existence of God . . . and the devil. Yes, they could well be extra dimensional beings, and since we can't see them as a whole being we might think that they're supernatural.

Personally, I've always considered the individual, human imagination to be the 5th dimension. Think about it. We can create worlds or see our own world in a far different way than most of  experience it. Time travel? Hell, the memory can transport a person to an already lived moment in time. What is PTSD but a very powerful time traveling disorder? There's a book titled Hyperspace by Michio Kaku that tells an interesting story about the idea of the existence of a 5th (I call it the 5th dimension because scientists pretty much agree that the 4th dimension is time.) dimension:

My own fascination with higher dimensions began early in childhood. One of my happiest childhood memories was crouching next to the pond at the famed Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco, mesmerized by the brilliantly colored carp swimming slowly beneath the water lilies. In these quiet moments, I would ask myself a silly question that a only child might ask: how would the carp in that pond view the world around them? Spending their entire lives at the bottom of the pond, the carp would believe that their “universe” consisted of the water and the lilies; they would only be dimly aware that an alien world could exist just above the surface. My world was beyond their comprehension. I was intrigued that I could sit only a few inches from the carp, yet we were separated by an immense chasm. I concluded that if there were any “scientists” among the carp, they would scoff at any fish who proposed that a parallel world could exist just above the lilies. An unseen world beyond the pond made no scientific sense. Once I imagined what would happen if I reached down and suddenly grabbed one of the carp “scientists” out of the pond. I wondered, how would this appear to the carp? The startled carp “scientist” would tell a truly amazing story, being somehow lifted out of the universe (the pond) and hurled into a mysterious nether world, another dimension with blinding lights and strange-shaped objects that no carp had ever seen before. The strangest of all was the massive creature responsible for this outrage, who did not resemble a fish in the slightest. Shockingly, it had no fins whatsoever, but nevertheless could move without them. Obviously, the familiar laws of physics no longer applied in this nether world!

I think artists have the ability to explore extra dimensional realms. Yeah, the imagination is a powerful tool to help us see this world in more than just three dimensions, too see life any way we wish to see it.
 

The Daiy (w)Rite January 2o15 2wk

Sunday
Last Thursday went to the heart specialist to get my cordial/vascular test results.

The first thing I noticed when I entered the surgeon's office? There were  a LOT of old people there waiting for the same thing as me, AND they liked to watch FOX NEWS as they waited. One old boy was watching The Five on FOX and every time the news pundits  mentioned President Obama, the old guy turned to his wife and whispered, "That bastard!" and his wife would nod her head in agreement and pat him gently on the hand. I thought David was going to explode! He's such a hardcore liberal.

Another thing that I noticed . . . a heart surgeon's office is a lot like a McDonald's! You come in for your appointment and you wait at least twenty minutes (or more), and then  when it's your turn they rush you in and out as fast as a happy meal on steroids! I don't even think the doctor remembered having met me before. He just stared at my chart and said, "Well, we're going to insert a tube beneath your ribcage and stick your heart with this needle . . . " Whoa! What the hell was he talking about?! I just came in for an evaluation of my heart for my yearly physical. . . you telling me I need heart surgery? He looked a bit surprised that I was surprised. He slowed down a bit and explained what was going on with my heart. I didn't understand a word of it . . . He smiled, gave me a prescription for my rather high cholesterol and off he flew down the hall (papers from his clipboard floating down to the floor!) like Superman in a white lab coat!

All weekend long I've been visited by some old friends. Memories. Not the pleasant ones, you know? The other ones that always cause the biggest mess before you get them out the door. Every bad thing I'd done to myself or others, every bad thing that was done to me decided to have a party inside my head this weekend. And there I was sitting on the couch listening to the shadows retell every sorted little story that I've tried to forget. Every heartbreak, every disappointment . . . any good thing that had happen to me long ago wasn't able to get a word in over the rioting laughter of my nastier, little memories.

The news from the surgeon was the trigger for my depression, I'm sure of it, and I found myself unable to get out of the house, to write, to do anything to rid myself of the weight my mind was forced to carry. It's silly, really, that I let a trip to the doctors drive me into an almost comatose state. I guess, the idea of some kind of "heart surgery" scared me. I never had troubles with my heart before. I was pretty sure that it had survived all my accesses. Guess I was wrong about that.

Tuesday, January 13, 2o15

I'm feeling better today. My minds a bit clearer now. Physically, a little frail, lack of energy. Hell, my body doesn't want to exert the small amount of energy it takes to write on this damn blog. However, my mind is made up. I'll write something.

Sometimes all you have is that something, that driving need to do . . . something, write something, create fuckin' something, anything, everything in one poem, one word or two or shout them out, watch them bang and bounce about, slam against the naked white walls of my apartment. Words scrambled together, nailed together, slapped together, glued together by that itchy need to prove to others and yourself that you do exist . . . if only in words, if only in your own imagination, if only between the hours 1am and 4am in the dark, in the void that argues its own existence within the hollow sound that train whistles make when all is midnight. Deep end of the pool, I am. I'm treading water well enough. Hopefully the sun will arrive, a big, hot sun will arrive and evaporate all this wet surrounding me before I drown myself. Easy enough to give it up, given in, trade it in the will to live for the solid, concrete assurance that all will be well as soon as I close the eyes.

Wednesday, January 14, 2o15

Today is a very lazy day. Different from other days because my laziness is not brought on by being sick. Actually, I feel pretty good today, and my laziness is not forced upon me by illness but by my freewill decision to be lazy! I know, how can I say I'm being lazy while writing this blog? Hmmm, I guess because I'm not feeling forced to write on it. I'm writing these nonsensical sentences, these meaningless words because I fuckin' feel like it. So, get off my cloud about it!{smile}

The weather is starting to warm up. Hee! You know it's been cold in Oklahoma when you start thinking of 40 degrees as "warming up." Actually, there have been colder winters in Norman Town, colder than this one, at least. Maybe because I'm getting older I'm feeling the cold deeper in my bones and lungs this year. Mind you, I'm not complaining about getting old . . .er merely pointing out the fact that my body does feel the winter more these days than years before.

Yes, I'm going to get out on the bike tomorrow if the weather permits. Yes, I said it was going to be warmer, but every Okie knows the weather guys here don't always get it right. Nothing on them, but the weather in OK doesn't always do what the forecasters predict. As Will Rogers said, "If you don't like the weather in Oklahoma, stick around."

David's son, Michael (I call him Khoo), is working as a filmmaker these days. His first film (or second, actually) will be on Oklahoma poets, ANNND, looks like me and David and some others are going to be in it. I'm excited. And just a bit scared. See, they are gonna film us reading some of our poetry, and that scares me a bit. What, me and stage fright? Hmmm, seems to be so. I think I've always been a bit self-conscious about performing on stage or on TV or in a movie . . . just never let it get to me as much as now. Why? Well, I'm not sure I know why. Maybe that's something I can think on.












 

The Daily (W)Rite January 2o15 WK o1

The Daily (W)Rite

wk o1

Sunday
Yes, we made it through and into another year! I'll turn 67 in May. Did I make any resolutions? Just one, to be more creative. I want to start writing again. I know, I keep saying that. But it's time for me to start being that artist I keep saying I am. I plan to spend most of this day getting stuff together in order to start my artistic journey . . . tomorrow. Yep, that's right, I said it. Tomorrow I start being the poet. Not that I haven't been the poet all along. I just want to start working at, like a job, a wonderful job that's all about me and this . . . this . . . this existence I try to live in . . . through . . .  as it continues to wegh me down a bit with its machinery. Tomorrow is a Monday. Always exciting to start any trek . . . on a Monday. {smiles}

Monday, January o5, 2o15

I have very strong political opinions. You may not know that about me because I do talk politics a lot, but I rarely get more involved than just that, talking about it. I'm not an activist, not like some of my friends. I don't do anything, no marching, no letters to the editor. Hell, very rarely do I write my Representatives. I'm a revolutionary . . . in sound only, and most times I just yell at myself or the TV about the cruelty of the political machine!

However, I did get riled over a state bill that is being voted on tomorrow, I think, Senate Bill #13! This bill is being introduced by State Senator Don Barrington, and if it passes it would forbid the wearing of hoodies in the State of Oklahoma. There would be a few exceptions to the law, however. If you used a hoodie to cover your head when it's REALLY cold . . . that would be okay. If you used a hoodie to cover your head because of "religious" reasons . . . that would be okay too. It's also okay to wear a hoodie as a part of a costume for Halloween or on stage in a play and . . . are you laughing yet? Senator Don Barrington isn't laughing at all. He believes that NOT wearing hoodies will cut down on crime. Yes! CRIME! I'm not going to question the senator's sincerity, but I really don't believe an anti-hoodie law on the books will stop crime.  I'm more concerned with the open carry law Oklahoma has. Yeah, I'm more afraid of guys walking around with guns strapped to their hips like they live in the old west. I'm afraid of guns; I'm not afraid of clothing.

So, I wrote a few e-mails to my state reps. and made this rather ostentatious poster {above}to put on Facebook. And I talked to a few people about writing some e-mails to their reps. . . . well, I don't think I'm Che Guevara or anything . . . but I do feel like I actually DID something for a change, ANNNND . . .  I liked it!












Tuesday, January o6, 2o15

Ugh! Sinus infection. That's bad, but even worse? It's been recurring on a regular basis since January of 2o14! Man, it's killing me! The inside of my left nostril is swollen so much the outside edge of my nose is swollen too! Hurts like hell on the bridge of my nose if I put even a pair of sunglasses on. Made a doctor's appointment for Friday, but the pains so bad and I can't breathe. Cancelled the appointment and I am going to Classen Urgent Care next door to get this fixed.  it's scaring me a bit. I've had it treated with steroids, antibiotics. It heals for awhile but it comes back within a month or so. Not sure what it is. Oh, well, I'm sure it'll be alright. I just hate putting out more money!