Sunday,
9:51 pm
So, there's a story to be told . . . but how to tell it? Where to start telling it? Never sure. This afternoon I sat outside on the porch waiting for my friend Vickie to pick me up so we could go see Ocean's 8 with David, of course. Anyway, I'm sitting on the porch listening to the sparrows sing . . . I mean . . . I couldn't see what kind of birds were there because the trees that line the street are so thick with leaves . . . and birds love to be heard but never seen. I wonder why that is? They are shy, I suppose, afraid maybe. Afraid of cars and cats and those hawks that sometimes come along and snatches them out of the air as easily as I swat a fly . . . But no hawk today. There is, however, a friggin' crow that makes such an awful sound that everything is still for a second . . . until I and the sparrows and cardinals realize it's just a crow.
It's warm outside and I didn't get much sleep the night before . . . maybe an hour . . . perhaps as much as three hours if I was lucky. Anyway, hot, hot, hot it was and I could barely stay awake. But I did and I thought about how little time I spend outside listening to the world, the birds, the wind that drifted freely through tree boughs . . . actually, it's the leaves being moved by the wind that makes any kind of noise NOT just the wind because wind by itself doesn't really make a noise, does it?
Monday, June 11, 2o16
So, what happened really recently was the suicide of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain. And a lot of people took it real hard, AND whenever someone grieves about a celebrity there's always one of those Facebook trolls that tries to belittle the mourners with some kind of ridiculous meme that says something like: "Why are you mourning this celebrity when '20 Veterans a Day Commit Suicide.'"
Okay, these trolls don't give a damn about vets anymore than they care about Anthony Bourdain or any other celebrity. They just post these derisive memes to stir up trouble, get the legitimate Facebook folk to fight with each other. internet trolls are nothing but a delivery system for fake news. Ignore them.
However, if you want to do something for the vets, because suicide IS a big problem, then do something to help. Volunteer at a suicide hotline service or take a day and work with vets at the VA. Or when you meet a vet when you're out and about just take the time to talk to him or her, ask about their service. Just make that human connection with them. That will help a lot more than writing some hateful meme. That does nothing but cause pain.
Tuesday, June 12, 2o18
11:36
Went to see Heredity today. A very old fashion horror movie but somehow . . . a very 21st century tale. Really creepy, nasty and horrifying. Glad we went to see it.
As we drove to the movies, David and I talked about our fear of getting old and . . . doing the big dirt dance. We decided that it's important that we keep living . . . keep getting out into the world, stay a part of life and maybe in the crowd death won't find us as easily. David brought the topic up and it really surprised me because I had just written about the same thing on my blog right before we left for the movie. Eerie.
So, I guess I'll get out of the house more, walk around in this world a bit more than I have, get out and do something with my existence before I no longer recognize that "I am."
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
I think someone may be living in the apartment that I share a wall with. But I'm not sure. It's been vacant for months. But I swear I heard a knock at its door. It could've originated from the apartment just down the stairs from my apartment. But then there were voices, cheery voices that I'm pretty sure were right next to my front door! And then . . . they were gone! No other sounds coming from the hallway, and as best as I could hear no sounds coming from the apartment next to mine. Hmm. A family of vagrant ghosts, perhaps, just looking for a place to spend the day while they wait for the sun to go down.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Well, the last day of this week's blog. "Use it or lose it." Yeah. Applies to poetry, to writing. This first two weeks of entries have been tough. I feel like I'm very slowly losing my ability to write a half way coherent sentence, a creative paragraph, a poem. But I'll keep hacking away at it. Maybe will get better. So, I hope you enjoyed this week's posts. Forgive the typos, the spelling mistakes. Just too tired of writing tonight to proof read it. {smiles}
This last Friday was Art Walk for Norman-town, and David and I went walking the art, which for us always starts out with us moving through space in a very energetic manner, both of us wishing to see everything, every painting, every musician . . . well, after about 45 min. of running around . . . we begin to slow down. Just two old men after all. We usually only last an hour and a half before my back and legs start aching and David's lively cane dance becomes a zombie shuffle. But this last Art walk . . . ? We didn't get home until around 10:30pm!
So, there's a story to be told . . . but how to tell it? Where to start telling it? Never sure. This afternoon I sat outside on the porch waiting for my friend Vickie to pick me up so we could go see Ocean's 8 with David, of course. Anyway, I'm sitting on the porch listening to the sparrows sing . . . I mean . . . I couldn't see what kind of birds were there because the trees that line the street are so thick with leaves . . . and birds love to be heard but never seen. I wonder why that is? They are shy, I suppose, afraid maybe. Afraid of cars and cats and those hawks that sometimes come along and snatches them out of the air as easily as I swat a fly . . . But no hawk today. There is, however, a friggin' crow that makes such an awful sound that everything is still for a second . . . until I and the sparrows and cardinals realize it's just a crow.
It's warm outside and I didn't get much sleep the night before . . . maybe an hour . . . perhaps as much as three hours if I was lucky. Anyway, hot, hot, hot it was and I could barely stay awake. But I did and I thought about how little time I spend outside listening to the world, the birds, the wind that drifted freely through tree boughs . . . actually, it's the leaves being moved by the wind that makes any kind of noise NOT just the wind because wind by itself doesn't really make a noise, does it?
Monday, June 11, 2o16
NEW
– 2014 Report – Veteran Suicide Statistics 20 Veterans a Day Commit Suicide. Active Heroes’ plan is working to reduce these
numbers. – Active Heroes
Talking about suicide today on Facebook. When someone famous commits suicide, you get a bunch of posts and comments from my fellow Facebookers about the grief they are feeling because this actor, this celebrity died. To me, it's normal and often touching to hear stories about what this actor, that performer, this singer, that artist means to individuals. A lot of times they are mourning their own youth, which a lot of these celebs. were a part of in some indirect way.
So, what happened really recently was the suicide of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain. And a lot of people took it real hard, AND whenever someone grieves about a celebrity there's always one of those Facebook trolls that tries to belittle the mourners with some kind of ridiculous meme that says something like: "Why are you mourning this celebrity when '20 Veterans a Day Commit Suicide.'"
Okay, these trolls don't give a damn about vets anymore than they care about Anthony Bourdain or any other celebrity. They just post these derisive memes to stir up trouble, get the legitimate Facebook folk to fight with each other. internet trolls are nothing but a delivery system for fake news. Ignore them.
However, if you want to do something for the vets, because suicide IS a big problem, then do something to help. Volunteer at a suicide hotline service or take a day and work with vets at the VA. Or when you meet a vet when you're out and about just take the time to talk to him or her, ask about their service. Just make that human connection with them. That will help a lot more than writing some hateful meme. That does nothing but cause pain.
Tuesday, June 12, 2o18
I spend a lot of time exploring the idea of the peaceful warrior. A simple concept, really. Give in without giving in, fight without fighting . . .
There is no lack of hardship in my life . . . radiating from both the external and internal realms. Lately, I find myself having such difficulty interacting with "other" people. I just feel such an anger when then "mess" with me my life, when they glare at me or bump against me or cut in front of me in the ticket line at the movie theatre . . . It's difficult for me NOT to be angry. My whole life seems like such an abuse. I sometimes feel that my only reason for my existence on this . . . this clump of dirt . . . is to be a target. And who knows? It may be true! And if it is . . . well, the big question I need to struggle with is . . . how do I respond to a hostile world?
11:36
Went to see Heredity today. A very old fashion horror movie but somehow . . . a very 21st century tale. Really creepy, nasty and horrifying. Glad we went to see it.
As we drove to the movies, David and I talked about our fear of getting old and . . . doing the big dirt dance. We decided that it's important that we keep living . . . keep getting out into the world, stay a part of life and maybe in the crowd death won't find us as easily. David brought the topic up and it really surprised me because I had just written about the same thing on my blog right before we left for the movie. Eerie.
So, I guess I'll get out of the house more, walk around in this world a bit more than I have, get out and do something with my existence before I no longer recognize that "I am."
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
I think someone may be living in the apartment that I share a wall with. But I'm not sure. It's been vacant for months. But I swear I heard a knock at its door. It could've originated from the apartment just down the stairs from my apartment. But then there were voices, cheery voices that I'm pretty sure were right next to my front door! And then . . . they were gone! No other sounds coming from the hallway, and as best as I could hear no sounds coming from the apartment next to mine. Hmm. A family of vagrant ghosts, perhaps, just looking for a place to spend the day while they wait for the sun to go down.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Well, the last day of this week's blog. "Use it or lose it." Yeah. Applies to poetry, to writing. This first two weeks of entries have been tough. I feel like I'm very slowly losing my ability to write a half way coherent sentence, a creative paragraph, a poem. But I'll keep hacking away at it. Maybe will get better. So, I hope you enjoyed this week's posts. Forgive the typos, the spelling mistakes. Just too tired of writing tonight to proof read it. {smiles}
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