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, July 11, 2021

what to do with the old motels?

 

from this week in July 1975  (I was 30)

 

what to do with the old motels?

room with double bed (hardly one and a half)

cracked plaster compartment painted large yellow

loud snapping light switch in tile bathroom

water with something in it

carpeting sticky to bare feet

at night the air conditioner like a DC-8

vibrates images of chilling flight

incessant echoes of familiar tunes

meditations, dishes rattling next door

it breaks down at 4 a.m.

soon this will be a downtown convalescent home

for the terminally ill; no wonder the aged

find regularity a problem assigned to rooms

designed thirty years ago for one-night guests

 

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