The Daily (W)Rite November 2o15 WK o1

Sunday,
November, November, it's hard to remember
the heat of August the cool of September
the deathly breath we know as October.
For November, November, we always remember
your bright colored angels falling to Earth.

TIME fell backwards into the hour we had already lived. My body dropped along with it, but it just couldn't stop, my body and mind, it lunged deeper into the past so far back, long before some "Thinker" gave these moments that men spend on this Earth a deadly name . . . TIME. I truly believe that we two-legged thingys were better off before we realized  . . . TIME. Much nicer to know that there's no place you have to go at a particular TIME. You could never be late for an appointment, for a date with that beautiful girl you met in acting class. And this, this monster . . . TIME is tougher on us older folk because we were forced into the shackles of TIME's  slavery from the moment we crawled out of the dark, warm womb. We spend a whole life serving TIME, and then one day we are paroled into RETIREMENT and TIME . . . Stops. All of a sudden it stops. There's nowhere to be every day, there's nothing that needs to be done every day, there's no schedule made out by someone else, there is no one else but the ME. It is frightening. Freedom is horrifying to the slave who has never known what it means to be without . . . TIME.

Just before midnight:
I know it's silly the things I say on this blog. I know that anything I say has been said before by another someone who is more qualified to speak, to write on the matters of existence and nonexistent, and poets more clever than me to speak on these matters . . . but . . . I live in a glorious country that wills me to speak my mind even if I really have no idea what I'm talking about. The 1st Amendment to the Constitution wills me to Freedom of Speech, to speak or try to speak . . . and there's no law, no rule that says I must make sense. But I try to, always I'm trying to say things that make sense. Sometimes, by accident, sometimes I do make a sort of sense.

Tuesday, November o3, 2o15

My big mistake: "Hey, David, you feel adventurous?"
David's big mistake: "Yeah, why not?"

And I make a left hand turn off the main trail at Sutton Wilderness onto a muddy path that led? Well, to the lake. it was a bit slippery and I worried about David maneuvering down the rain soaked hill covered with dead leaves and tree branches and roots sticking out of the mud. But we made it to the lake shore without any trouble and it was a rather beautiful, secluded part of the park. The sun was warm, its light was rippling across the grayish-blue water.

Our second mistake: It looked like we could follow the shore, so we stepped down onto the bank and started walking. Unfortunately, The "bank" ended about ten feet from where we stood! Hmmm, what to do? "Isn't that a trail?" David said. He was right! Too my left was a grassy pathway leading up and away from the water.
As the path started to curve to the west, it began to disappear beneath long, thin branches of fresh shrubbery. No problem though. The branches where easy to  push through. "Hey! You see the grass there?" David was talking about the That means Deer were sleeping there, and not all that long ago." Fuck! There are wild animals running around in here? As I "blazed" the trail before me (we ran into another patch that was overgrown with brush, much worse than the one we just passed through), I started talking very loud, "YOU ALL RIGHT BACK THERE!" David was surprised, but I knew what I was doing. If you believe there a wild animals around you, start talking real loud to scare them off.

grass on either side of the path after we past the gauntlet of you branches. The grass was long and yellow, and it was smooshed down on it's south side. "

And then disaster! A tree had fallen across the path, two of its extremely large limbs stared at me. The only way to get passed them was to crawl over the first one and duck under the second one. I knew I could do it, but David with his cane? I told him what was up ahead and he decided he could do it. And he did, but it was tough for him.  Finally, after about another 15 minutes of walking, we came back to the main path, a 1/4 mile from where we had started down to the lake!
Woodie: "David, if I ask you if you're adventurous, what are you going to say?" It took him a moment. David: "NO?!"

Friday November o6, 2o15

Randall: It's just that sometimes . . . I run out of gas, so to speak.
Glas: Gas? What gas? Listen—
Randall. Well, I mean, energy. What I mean to say is that it requires . . .
                                                                                    —Slowdance on the Killing Ground
My Shadow

 

My shadow’s grown quite pale, anemic if you will.

All those years dragged along the Earth,
across the cracks and gorges that sidewalks create,
the crooked roots of oak and elm scarring its flesh.
And cats! My God, the bloody cats! Scratching at
its dirty feet each time we’d pass them on the street.

 

Most bitter, yes, quite bitter should my shadow be.

And yet, it never sighs, not one tear does it ever cry,
or bleed from its eyeless face; never once did he
scream out in pain though surly he felt something.
Quite rare indeed to crawl along on hand and knee
through all the years without once feeling something.

 

A very honorable shadow, I must say.

And as I watch him slowly fade away,
I’m quite sure he’ll not utter a word,
not one single word of regret.
Woodie 8-28-11(rewrites o8-o3-14)

Loud laugher amplified attacking my left ear. I should turn Fallon off while I write or type, but Christoph Waltz will be on in a few minutes. I don't want to miss seeing him. Something happened to me. I don't know exactly what, don't know exactly when . . . but something happened to me today. I lost my smile somewhere between here at home and the Warren theatre. No one noticed, of course, because it wasn't my face smile I misplaced, it was that other smile that lives inside my head, well, inside my heart, some would say, those who believe that my blood pump houses all my emotions, feelings those kind of things. Where ever it is that my internal smile resides, I lost it today. No one, of course, noticed it. I laughed at all of David's jokes as he drove us to see the new Bond movie. And I joked with Michael, you know, "Hey, kid," or Something about me being older than the wind blowing through the open window to my right . . . in the back seat. Yeah, to all I seemed "myself." Same old Woodie. But inside? I felt alone, somewhat sad like a good friend had died suddenly, or an ex-girlfriend had called to tell me she was getting married . . . you know, yeah, I know that you know. It's November. The weather colder. My neck feels it though my  mind hasn't quite accepted it. Just a cool breeze, just an odd change in the weather, soon it'll be warm again. My mind tends to be hopeful for as long as it can. Winter is always a surprise to my mind even though this bit of chill my neck and arms and legs complain about is the first sign that winter is well on its way. Maybe that's why my smile has left. Maybe there's more to it than just a climate change. But my mind, again, won't entertain any disparaging thoughts the rest of me may well be feeling.

Saturday, November o7, 2o15
Last day in the first week of the month . . . and I've barely wrote a word. Okay, maybe "barely" is not the right word. I have written a bit. Some of it may be pretty good . . .  or not.

Sick today. Headache and sore back. Wanted to sleep all day but my mind wasn't going for it. I felt pretty good all week because of the working out at the gym that David "forced" me to join. Hee! Yeah, I finally gave in and it's been pretty good for me. Of course, I'm not at full workout mode, three sets of 10 reps. but I'm getting there.

I hope I dream tonight when I finally go to sleep. If I do, I hope I don't have fantasies about some old girlfriend. No matter how good the dream might be, if it's about a "lost love" I always wake up very sad.

Tomorrow I get the new cholesterol pills. Gonna cost $15.00 a month, but that's better than $30. Next week I get the wire frames for my partial plate, thank God. I'm tired of walking around like the demented hillbilly from Deliverance (1972). So, I'm going to end this week now and get ready for sleep. I don't say "ready for bed" anymore because, as David pointed out, I don't own a bed! {smiles}