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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Sunday, February 3, 2019

The Smoking of the Universal Joint


From this week in 1974  (I was 29)

The Smoking of the Universal Joint

The dip stick was dry
and there was oil all over hell
I was a defeated man
so I left it there down at the garage
I went to Ben’s for a beer and a pepperoni
sat on the bench in front of the store
Windy as hell too blowing dust
The damn thing smoked like hell
The mechanic was the garage owner’s son
overworked and pissed off
He could bury it for all I cared
Damn rolling jail
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