I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


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Monday, October 16, 2017

After a dozen years


October 16, 1977  (I was 32)

         After a dozen years all he could hope to be was clever.
Most often his work was simplistic, even superficial.  He was a
General Practitioner who recorded symptoms, wrote prescriptions
to treat the most predominant manifestations.  Not what you
would call a definitive diagnostician.  He wrote poems because
he could fit it all on one page.  Direct doses, the pharmaceutical
middlemen eliminated.
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