The Daily {W}rite July 2o18 wk. o1

I'm drinking my semi-warm coffee as I type the first entry for this July blog, and I'm thinking . . . it doesn't feel like the beginning of July. Summer? Of course it feels like summer . . . just not July. I mean, where's all the American anticipation for the Fourth of July, our countries date of birth? There's not been one advertisement for the holiday on TV, radio or Facebook that I've seen. I haven't heard one pop or BOOM from a pre-ejaculated firecracker. "Hey, Woodie! Boy the Fourth of July is almost  here, I can't wait!" Well, it appears that everybody CAN wait because no one is already celebrating. I heard that a few towns in Oklahoma have had their firework shows just this last Saturday. I don't care for that either. IF you are going to celebrate the birth of some THING, do it on the designated day . . . except, of course, for MY birthday. I celebrate the whole month I was born as if the whole month was my birthday . . . but that's only because I'm that important to this world. 

I argue too much with my friends. Someone will say something and I'll disagree, which forces said friend to say something else, which I react to, which  . . . which they in turn react and . . . before you know it, we're in an atomic war of words. I always wind-up losing an argument with a friend. I should shut the fuck up and never respond negatively  to anything a friend says. Nod my head and say "yeah, I hear what you're saying." At least that way I don't have to admit to him/her that I disagree. I don't have to admit to him/her that I'm right, either. There's always something lost during an argument that can never be replaced. Innocent lives are lost, friendships dissolved. No one wins.

10:38pm

Settling in for the night. All my breathing exercises done, into the robe already. Nothing left to do but brush my teeth take my prescriptions (doc told me to take the cholesterol meds. right before bedtime) and brush my teethes (sorry, I turn into Gollum when I get tired). And  yes, I floss! I'm going to try and get to bed earlier than usual. Much earlier if I can. Anyway, I did a bit if writing on the blog and that's something. Maybe tomorrow I'll get a bike ride in. Sleep like angels, you all. Night. {smiles}

TUEsday, July o3, 2o18

The air-conditioner is my best friend today, and the window that my computer is near is receiving nasty thoughts from me as it burns my right arm and make it too hot to sit here without letting down the blinds. I'll do that right now . . . Aaaah. That's better. But I' still taking off the Captain America shirt and jacking up the conditioner to: HIGH and COLD!

11:45pm

I wanted to get one little piece of writing in before I stop for the night. I'm reading this book, you know the one, The Art of Peace, and it's making me think about things, you know, in a different way than I've thought before. But it's difficult to just "change my ways." There's a lot of ideas in this book that I'm learning, but it gets to be so much that I just feel my mind shutting down. One of my biggest mind crap problems is thinking about the past. Yeah, I've mentioned this before. And that is what I'm talking about. I know I shouldn't think about the past so much because it really depresses me, and then I get angry and then . . . well, I take it out on a friend who had nothing to do with whatever it was I went through. So, I've struggled with this "living in the past" nonsense forever and finally today . . . a little breakthrough. I stopped myself from thinking about the past . . . not a lot . . . but a little. A little light, a little weight taken off my shoulders. I felt for the first time in a very long time a sense of well being and peace. {smiles}

THURsday, July o5, 2o18

Went to see the fireworks last night . . . by myself. David was sick. Man, a bit of a jolt because since I got back in 2o12 me and David always went the Duck Pond to see the colorful explosions! It was weird walking around out there all solo and such . . . weird people in the dark. Even little kids tend look like little demons . . . in the dark. There was the shadow of a guy on the little hill right where the stone bridge's sidewalk begins. The shadow turned out to be a dude in his thirties giving his children individual bike rides up and down the hill. Oh, well, no drama there. No revolution there. No mad bomber gonna blow us all up. Which is a good thing . . . I guess. They finally got around to fixing the stone bridge I love so much. Best place to take pictures of the aerial fireworks at Reeves Park. But sadly, the Duck Pond is all but dried up. No more do the ducks swim around their little island causing these wonderful shadows from the light of the fireworks. They just walk around in the mud, the water level barely covering their little web feet! Not the Duck Pond anymore . . . more like the Duck Puddle.

11:28pm

Today was a most wonderfully beautiful day! a sunny day filled with huge clouds that scraped the top of the Energy Building as a tender breeze sailed them across the sky. Okay, I didn't go out side. That last part was made up. I did however watch the clouds from the security of my apartment. Even got a few shots through its dirty window. Why not wash the windows? Because my apartment is on the second floor and I have no access to the A-frame rooftop.

SATurday, July o7, 2o18

Last day in the first week of July. A billion or more years from now . . . Earth will cease to exist in its contemporary shape. It may explode, dissolve into the stardust it once was back way back before it claimed its life, its name . . . "I shall call myself . . . Earth." I'd love to see the transformation. Earth getting a quantum makeover. I wonder who will do her hair?  Yes, I'd like to be there for mother Earth's coming out party as her new self. But more than likely? I'll already in the latter moments of my own . . . evolution.

How about a poem? Would you like that, Reader?

Lighter Than Gravity

I’m sure you understand

how unnerving it is to . . . change,
to feel your body, your thoughts,
your already oddly shaped being
transforming into some . . . thing!
Some unmentionable . . . thing!
Something you never, ever
dreamed of becoming, some . . . thing

you never wished to be.

My friends (those very few that I still have)

keep telling me not to worry,
“CHANGE is inevitable, we CHANGE
everyday, from the day we’re born
we CHANGE, we all CHANGE
we must  CHANGE and . . .”

Okay, if I MUST . . . convert, I hope it’s not to dirt.

I hate dirt. Pushed around the whole day on
by any clumsy breeze that comes along,
or stuck for all eternity to the endless
bottom of a shoe. What kind of existence
is that? And when it rains? You become . . .  MUD!
And I hate mud… even more than dirt!

But if I must, IF you say my resurrection . . . MUST

be akin to earth let me become dust.
No, STARdust . . . YES, glittery bits of cosmic grit
which wander gypsy like between
barrooms, streetlamps and . . . GALAXIES! 
Yes, STARdust! That’s what I’ll be.
That some . . . thing that’s ever so
lighter and kinder than gravity
has ever been to me.
Woodie 4-24-12 (rewrites 
o3-26-13, o7-2o-16, o7, o7-o7-18)

11:03pm

So, I Have just under an hour to finish this week up. Went to put a new poem I found into the  New Poem 2018 file and . . . the file was gone! Just gone! I couldn't believe it. I looked for it in my computer in ALL the flash-drives, and in all the files I have on my 8 flash-drives . . . and I could find it. Gone! All new poems I wrote since January . . . gone. All the old poems I rewrote for "the book" and stashed in New Poems 2018 . . . GONE!

But not to worry. I finely found it. No, it wasn't my evil computer pulling a trick on me . . . though I'm pretty sure it is evil and wishes me emotional turmoil. It was me. I HAD accidently moved New Poetry 2018 into the folder marked My Songs. You see I write my poetry late at night, and I do get extremely tired so . . . well, I messed up. But I'm sure glad I found that folder.