Listen to this! We got 86 "views" on my last blog post about the death of Janet Taylor. People loved the poem I wrote about her. Sure hope her folks like it.
On the New Directions website, my son, Dan, has always uploaded the Compass on the homepage. This time, tho, he put a photo of the Compass cover.
A guy from NHS, Delaware County, asked if he could have some copies. Sure, I said, but I have to charge you.
He wrote back he'd make copies from the online Compass. Great! I said.
Also asked Dan if we might have a photo section and he said, Sure.
Took me an hour to clean up from yesterday's Writers Group. Didn't mind at all. I rarely have company, so it was a pleasure. Gave me a chance to cook for company.
Here's the neatened and vacuumed living room
Damn! Forgot to unplug the phone. When I awoke I was in a really bad mood. Won't tell you my thoughts but they went away as soon as I came downstairs into the light.
I'm upstairs in my office and I hear them banging on the front door. I was furious. Couldn't they read? So I'm upstairs screaming to come in.
I'll tell you something, the more you scream, the angrier you get. Warlords and peacemakers should take notice. I didn't wanna break from my short story tentatively titled "Beethoven Speaks." In the above book he makes an entrance.
Thanks for your kind words about it, Marcy and Freda.
Here's Donna's poem. She may change some of the words. Just got her okay to say I suggested she get maintenance ECT treatments.
Several of my friends, including myself, have suffered from depressions. We all agree it is the most awful feeling in the world.
"Kill yourself! Kill yourself! Kill yourself!" roared my depression.
THE LIGHT IN THE DISTANCE
Feelings so dark
There's no place to hide
Depression's horrid feelings
Does any one care
The trembling inside
Caused by our unbalanced brains
Medicines are prescribed
A damn crap shoot
Does one want to go on this way?
Or end their life
No matter what the cost?
However, death may be worse
Than the illness itself
Anger may result
From the frightening way
Their loved one
Ended their life
Like a demolished building
Not ready to be knocked down
Look to the majestic!
Oak trees that do not falter
And stand at attention
Even when the weather
Tries to beat them down
Hold on to the light
Of a beautiful sunrise
Can't you see it on the horizon?
The new day may bring
You the help you desperately need....
He read the next chapter of "Devon's Dilemma."
Devon, who was leaving home on a football scholarship, found out that Brett had feelings for him. Special feelings. Loving feelings. Soon, they'll snuggle up together in a bunk bed inside a cabin.
Ah! To be young and in love.
Are you scratching your head trying to remember who sang this song?
We cover a lot of territory in half a dozen pages. Marf said this was his best chapter and I dare not disagree! As always, it easy to imagine it happening and quite amusing. He floats over neighborhoods - one paragraf in particular was superb - plus he made up his own songs!
Rem plans on taking another trip to Las Vegas this summer. He says, "I have been to Las Vegas 20 times. 10 times with my wife, and once when I was 10, just passing through on Greyhound with my parents. How come you can't find Postum anymore?"
Postum was a faux coffee made from grain. Let's take a look. I would actually buy it but it's got molasses in it, which is high in iron.
However, it would spike my blood sugar. Hold on, I'll go check the carbs.
Rem mentioned a saint I was not familiar with. The story takes place in Fatima, Portugal. The Miracle of the Sun, from 1917.
In one page, Martha wrote about "Riding to Lancaster, all from this little Corolla."
Yes, Martha is always writing. She takes her writing pad wherever she goes. And we're the beneficiaries of her poetry and her short stories.
She read us the next chapter in her romance novel. The journalist, Jaz, is in big trouble. Mace, her lover, can't bear for her to leave, but her powerful boss, Harry, is summoning her.
And who is she to disobey her boss?
Yes! Yes! I promise. I'll leave Mace and come back to your mansion.
In fact, I'm gonna heat it up as soon as I finish blogging.
MY FATHER, THE THERMOS AND I
In the kitchen of the house on
Gantt Drive, Dad filled up
a tall Thermos with hot water
He'd forsaken coffee - took it
with real cream that made cloud-
like formations in the round cup
He held the Thermos aloft, like
an Oscar, and declaimed, with a
shake of his head that reminded
us of Paul Newman
"Sure is something!
This will stay hot
I like my coffee
hot, black, no cream
strong coffee I taste
all the way down
even as I remember
my father, the man I
called "Dad" a word
I can say to no other.
Dad! Dad! Dad!