Friday, April 27, 2012

I'm Not Going To Publish This Anyway

What would I write here if I had no intention in the world of publishing it?

Tea is no substitute for coffee, but minty, herb tea doesn't leave a nasty feeling in my belly and a nastier taste in my mouth.

A candle is a wondrous thing.

I'm hungry but not for anything good for me.

Children's books and young adult novels make me feel like a reading giant.

I could buy a new book of poetry every week. That's fifty-two each year which works out to forty three books of poetry that I would see on my shelf but not finish reading.

I read slowly.

I'll stick to my usual dozen poetry books each year.

I want to go to Barcelona. I know nothing about Barcelona other than that it is in Spain and everyone I've mentioned it to has emotionally wet themselves remembering their own trips there.

I thought I had to visit the Grand Canyon to fulfill a dream. Turned out I was meant to go to Zion National Park instead. Sometimes flexibility facilitates wonder.

My cat talks to me. Not in English. Each morning, while I'm readying for work, she climbs onto the table and chirrups. She trills. She meows. She puts a paw in the air as if to draw me down to her level in order to tell me things.

Here are some of the things I think my cat wants to tell me:

  • I am hungry. 
  • I'm ready to be pet. A little. 
  • You can pick me up. 
  • There is no God, but that's okay. The world is a good place. 
  • You can feed me now. 
  • Your coffee breath really does stink, Bri. 
  • You have to go to work and I'm going to spend the day napping. Suck on that, big guy. 
  • I'm ready to eat. Make with the food there, man. 
  • Okay, I've had enough of you. 
  • Oh, but the litter box could be scooped.
  • And I'm hungry. 

I keep hearing about running naked. Leave the watch and headphones at home. Just run!

I think of how much of me would jiggle and flap.  I can't think of a single human being I want to see run naked.

I hate Jello.

I don't hate but I fear electricity.

I'm suspicious of our shower drain and what lurks there.

These things are not altogether untrue.

I once ate squirrel cooked by my students on a coat hanger over a fire while we camped in Highland Forest. I was really hungry. A kid promised that his mom was on her way with eggs and bacon. I was too impatient. She arrived moments after I had gotten the bite of squirrel down and began to think that I was descending into hallucinogenic food poisoning.

That is altogether untrue. Thank goodness.

There are a few things that I do without music. Writing is not one of those things. Nor are cutting my hair, doing the dishes, or driving. Last year I stopped running to music. I've given up on trying to sleep to music.

When I want to sleep, I sleep. Anything else is a distraction.

That said, I have often fallen asleep with a book flattened against my chest. My wife puts in the bookmark, sets it aside, and thinks I'm adorable.

I hope she does.

For a week I went without hearing news. It was wondrous.

This week I heard about Newt Gingrich, that someone had smashed eight swan eggs against a building, how there will be a frost in the morning.

How has any of this news made my life better?

Parents tell their children that some day the kids will watch the news. Teachers (like me) try to get kids caught up in the news. Why?

Why not tell kids to get lost in the woods, throw their phones and laptops in the garbage, take a notebook, sit somewhere by a beautiful lake...

...and write on.

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