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.


Comments Welcome!

Sunday, November 11, 2018

untitled


November 11, 2007  (I was 62)

Fuckin’
adjective applicable to nearly any noun
as in the expression “Gimme a fuckin’ hamburger”
common to the Iron Range region of Minnesota
circa 1960, and in other American localities
where workers come up hungry from the pit
also used to modify the plural as in
“and some fuckin’ fries”
when ordered at the Itasca Café
locally known as The Pit
“and a fuckin’ Grain Belt please”
Its use warranted no exemption from manners  
and there are fuckin’ kids in the joint
who listen and understand the sweetness
of habitual pleasantries when the waitress replies
S’pose you want some fuckin’ ketchup for the fries

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