Forcing a Poem

I’m going to paste a list of words that rhyme with “tired”, then fill in words ahead of each to make the worst poem you’ve read today. It probably helps to read it aloud, getting faster and louder with each line.

attitude hardwired
bedraggled and perspired
bit of peace acquired
can anguish be retired
can brains be rewired
each tower neatly spired
efforts all backfired
how my brain is wired
I am so very tired
little thought required
much to be desired
my synapses misfired
my two minds conspired
no success admired
pretend to be inspired
quietly inquired
whatever transpired
unwilling uninspired

Bells

His mother picked up his sister from our house. She said he’s not answering his phone we have to go.

His mother, young enough to be my daughter, cut him down.

His sister ran to the neighbor, my friend: he’s dead he’s dead.

My friend knelt over him in the hallway for two hours doing CPR until the paramedics came. Two hours.

The paramedics worked for two hours before they gave up.

My friend texted me. He just didn’t have the strength for the phone call.

I told my wife. She cried.

We talked. We told our daughter. She cried. Her first death.

My wife said I have to be there. We went over.

We hugged everybody. Everybody hugged everybody.

There was no crying left.


Three months later I wrote this song.

I finally cried.

Bells

I really don’t blame him he chose not to call
he’d been there for hours crouched in the hall
he sent me the message my heart tore in two
said someone was dead he said it was you

there should have been bells
so everyone would know
’cause the silence is killing me
since you had to go

Why didn’t I see you were so lost?
Would have done anything, paid any cost
But I never asked, and you never said
And some days I wish, it was me instead

there should have been bells
so everyone would know
’cause the silence is killing me
since you had to go

no matter how black there’s always hope
but it’s hard to see at the end of your rope
in the middle of love now there’s a hole
silence so loud taking its toll

there should have been bells
so everyone would know
’cause the silence is killing me
since you had to go


Agave Anniversary

This photo of Heat Hotel is courtesy of TripAdvisor
Those stories where one thing at a time, everything goes wrong, wronger, wrongest?

This is about our 5th wedding anniversary, and it’s the opposite of that.

On our honeymoon we’d seen a brand new hotel being built at Lake Havasu, and wanted to stay there on the first night of our anniversary trip. The room at the Agave wasn’t expensive at all, for such a spiffy place.

Our anniversary is December 26th. Since we don’t celebrate Christmas, that pretty much leaves the day before our anniversary full of fidgeting until we can leave for our annual trip. By our 5th anniversary we’d developed the habit of leaving the night before, knowing we’d never sleep anyway.

This time, we left a day and a night before: late on the evening of the 24th.

Arriving in Lake Havasu about 10am on the 25th, Best Beloved called and asked if the room we’d booked might be available today, a day early. They said, sure.

Ding!

Then the big ask: we were in town with nowhere to stay; might we be able to check in early?

They said, sure, the room’s ready.

Ding!

When we arrived, the woman at the check-in desk said, you’re here on your anniversary, right? Why yes, we said, we are.

They’d upgraded us to the honeymoon suite. Half of the top floor. About a $500 a night room, for which we were paying about $70.

Ding!

We made use of the separate private bathrooms, just because. Ding! And the oversized tub in the middle of the room, with the spigot in the ceiling so the water fell 10 feet to the tub. Ding!

We lounged and wallowed in luxury and generally made sure we got their thousand dollars’ worth.


Irish Adventure #3: From the Fog

I’ve had these two introductory paragraphs and the final action scene done for years. Now I’m finally going to write what comes between.

As soon as I finish Jake Calcutta story #3 next week.

I looked down at my shoes, and I smiled.

Mossie had bought me a very nice pair so I would, as he said, “look the part of heroic best man” at his wedding. I doubted a pair of shoes could manage that without oodles of help, but it was Mossie and Clare’s big day. Who was I to argue?



Gratitude Journal

Last summer I started journaling my gratitude in earnest; three things, every day, I appreciated. My goal has been to come up with three new things every day, so after the initial ease of listing my wife and daughter, friends, food, shelter, spirituality, it became a bit more challenging. Not that I don’t have plenty to be thankful for, but focusing on the moment, what am I grateful for right now? as opposed to one time there was this good thing and I think I remember it.

With almost 600 entries so far, it runs the gamut from “vinegar” (I love cooking) to “the coolest spring since we’ve lived in Arizona” while passing through “no more finger wrap for my arthritic finger” and “finding the patch kit for Sue’s bike tire.”

I’ve also mentioned over 60 people by name, endless features of nature right outside our windows, and things I try not to take for granted like indoor plumbing, air conditioning, reliable internet access, and working from the comfort of our own living, especially the part about working with my Best Beloved.

Thinking our gratitude isn’t as effective as writing it down. Writing has power, for ourselves, and to share with others.


600 Short Sentences About Writing

I’m struggling through a book on writing with a title very much like the title above.

There are some real gems.

They are obscured by the style.

The entire book is composed of short sentences, sometimes fragments, sometimes intentionally split across two lines to appear as two short sentences when it is, in fact, one.

If this were fiction, I might find it avant garde.

Instead, I merely find it hard.


Arthritis Finger

I’ve had some flexible squishy tape wrapped around the last joint of my left index finger for over 5 weeks. The doctor is treating a symptom of the severe arthritis in that joint.

On the surface, that sounds like typical old guy stuff.

Let’s dig below that surface.

First, a conundrum: the same joint on my pinkie finger on the same hand has the same severity of damage, yet feels no pain, no discomfort of any kind.

Next, the deeper issue: as a musician, the top joint of my index finger is vital to playing any instrument. You use your left hand to choose the notes you’re playing, and it has to be strong and flexible. Arthritis is neither of those.

The damaged joint affects me physically, and concern about its future affects me emotionally.

There’s good news. The pain and swelling has been exacerbated by a cyst at the end of a bone spur. The bone spur is quite small; the cyst was growing. And painful. And causing swelling and pain in the joint.

Large doses of anti-inflammatory meds plus a 6-week regimen of light pressure (thus the wrap) has almost eliminated the swelling, and reduced the pain, even when I’m playing an instrument, to negligible levels.

Videos of Les Paul, a great enough guitarist to have the most famous guitar in the world name for him, show his aged hands twisted with arthritis, the knuckles swollen.

He was still Les Paul, still one of the greatest jazz guitarists in the world, ever.

I’m gonna hang on to that image.


Binge Reading

Since October 1st I’ve read 120 books. That’s 4 books a week, every week, for 7 1/2 months.

a pile of booksI’m a big reader, but even for me that’s some serious binging.

Part of it was discovering a new author (John Lescroart) who falls squarely into the category I like to read. And part of that was that I re-read the entire works of Robert Crais and Michael Connelly. There were a few one-offs, a little nonfiction, things like that. There were some I started but didn’t finish; I’m not counting those.

During the same time period I’ve dealt with some emotional trauma, financial concerns, very special events, a big business upswing, starting a new story series with a character who’s been waiting ages to see the light of day, and finishing a book I start long, long ago.

Over the past two months I’ve been shifting, physically. Taking on more projects that require shopping at the home improvement store, sawing and hammering, digging and planting and whatnot. After a year and a half of extreme fatigue, getting my energy back has been highly motivating.

Most of that reading time is going to be spent on my own writing, and on a little more physical activity now that I can do that again.