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!

Showing posts with label 1968. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1968. Show all posts

Friday, February 17, 2023

How did grammatical aspects come to be

 

February 17, 2018  (I was 73)

 

It’s a passageway like a tunnel through a mountain

as on highway 50 when you break through

the darkness within the granite to the light

blue and the spectacle of Yosemite Valley

around you and below you welcoming your descent

beside falling water under bright sun

through bracing air to settle and walk

the floor of the earth connected again 

The boring through that stone night

is a mediation a liaison a brush with the eternal

juxtaposed with the brilliant fleeting relevance to come

Wednesday, November 9, 2022

Fog morning mist

November 9, 1968 (I was 23)

 

Fog morning mist

most delicate of webs

of the astounding variety only seen holding together the green

in loose shrubbery when the sun is right

or when traced against gray in shattered glass dew

Your creator walks upon eyelashes

seeing all things forming and un-forming

in its strict infinity of patterns

devouring insignificant morsels

allowing their clarity for only a second

and planning new threads even as we dissolve

 

Thursday, February 3, 2022

I saw a guy shot on TV last night

 

February 3, 1968  (I was 23)

 

I saw a guy shot on TV last night

It wasn’t Gunsmoke

Or I Spy

just the news

nothing really dramatic

I was half asleep

when a news-filmed Viet Cong kid

was led down the street

by two ARVN soldiers

to an officer

who immediately raised a pistol to the kid’s head

and fired

The kid dropped right on his ass

to the road

and the screen faded to Imperial Margarine

Sunday, June 6, 2021

Eng. 225 3cr.

 

June 6, 1968  (I was 23)

 

Eng. 225  3cr.

The too young professor of English

PhD Stanford

studied cynicism in tweed

now professes Shakespeare polysyllabically

and organically of course

abhors the theatre

and women educators

of both sexes

fluctuates between

Tillyard and G.W. Knight

Flying Dutchman and Newports

and discusses The Winter’s Tale

the night of Bobby Kennedy’s death.

Monday, November 9, 2020

Fog morning mist

 

November 9, 1968 (I was 23)

 

Fog morning mist

most delicate of webs

of the astounding variety only seen holding together the green

in loose shrubbery when the sun is right

or when traced against gray in shattered glass dew

Your creator walks upon eyelashes

seeing all things forming and un-forming

in its strict infinity of patterns

Thursday, October 8, 2020

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald (Quotes)

 

October 8, 1968  (I was 23)

 

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Quotes taken from an article in Esquire, Oct. 1968

 

“Jingo was  the lingo.”

 

“We were born to power and intense nationalism.  We did not have

to stand up in a movie house and recite a child’s pledge to the flag

to be aware of it.  We were a race that could potentially lick ten

of any genus.”

 

“We are these men…[who]…found themselves singing, ‘We’re In The

Army Now.’  Their first discovery of 1919 was that nobody cared.”

 

“The capacity of this generation has run very thin.  The war, the

peace, the boom, the Depression, the shadow of the new war

scarcely  correspond to the idea of Manifest Destiny.”

 

“By and large I grant them…[the next generation]…a grace we do

not have, and for all we know the Messiah may be among them.  But

we are something else again.”

Thursday, September 24, 2020

Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises

 

September 24, 1968  (I was 23)

 

         Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises

         “I do not know whether behind appearances there lives and moves a secret essence superior to me.  Nor do I ask; I do not care.  I create phenomena in swarms, and paint with a full palette a gigantic and gaudy curtain before the abyss.  Do not say, ‘Draw the curtain that I may see the painting.”  The curtain is the painting.”

         “I have one longing only:  to grasp what is hidden behind appearances, to ferret out that mystery which brings me to birth and then kills me, to discover if behind the visible and unceasing stream of the world an invisible and immutable presence is hiding.”

         “In sudden dreadful moments a thought flashes through me:  ‘This is all a cruel and futile game, without beginning, without end, without meaning.’ But again I yoke myself swiftly to the wheels of necessity, and all the universe begins to revolve around me once more.” 

Monday, February 3, 2020

I saw a guy shot on TV last night


February 3, 1968  (I was 23)

I saw a guy shot on TV last night
It wasn’t Gunsmoke
Or I Spy
just the news
nothing really dramatic
I was half asleep
when a news-filmed Viet Cong kid
was led down the street
by two ARVN soldiers
to an officer
who immediately raised a pistol to the kid’s head
and fired
The kid dropped right on his ass
to the road
and the screen faded to Imperial Margarine

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Eng. 225 3cr.


June 6, 1968  (I was 23)

Eng. 225  3cr.
The too young professor of English
PhD Stanford
studied cynicism in tweed
now professes Shakespeare polysyllabically
and organically of course
abhors the theatre
and women educators
of both sexes
fluctuates between
Tillyard and G.W. Knight
Flying Dutchman and Newports
and discusses The Winter’s Tale
the night of Bobby Kennedy’s death.

Friday, November 9, 2018

Fog morning mist


November 9, 1968 (I was 23)

Fog morning mist
most delicate of webs
of the astounding variety only seen holding together the green
in loose shrubbery when the sun is right
or when traced against gray in shattered glass dew
Your creator walks upon eyelashes
seeing all things forming and un-forming
in its strict infinity of patterns
devouring insignificant morsels
allowing their clarity for only a second
and planning new threads even as we dissolve

Monday, October 8, 2018

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald


October 8, 1968  (I was 23)

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald 
Quotes taken from an article in Esquire, Oct. 1968

“Jingo was  the lingo.”

“We were born to power and intense nationalism.  We did not have
to stand up in a movie house and recite a child’s pledge to the flag
to be aware of it.  We were a race that could potentially lick ten
of any genus.”

“We are these men…[who]…found themselves singing, ‘We’re In The
Army Now.’  Their first discovery of 1919 was that nobody cared.”

“The capacity of this generation has run very thin.  The war, the
peace, the boom, the Depression, the shadow of the new war
scarcely  correspond to the idea of Manifest Destiny.”

“By and large I grant them…[the next generation]…a grace we do
not have, and for all we know the Messiah may be among them.  But
we are something else again.”

Monday, September 24, 2018

Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises


September 24, 1968  (I was 23)

            Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises
            “I do not know whether behind appearances there lives and moves a secret essence superior to me.  Nor do I ask; I do not care.  I create phenomena in swarms, and paint with a full palette a gigantic and gaudy curtain before the abyss.  Do not say, ‘Draw the curtain that I may see the painting.”  The curtain is the painting.”
            “I have one longing only:  to grasp what is hidden behind appearances, to ferret out that mystery which brings me to birth and then kills me, to discover if behind the visible and unceasing stream of the world an invisible and immutable presence is hiding.”
            “In sudden dreadful moments a thought flashes through me:  ‘This is all a cruel and futile game, without beginning, without end, without meaning.’ But again I yoke myself swiftly to the wheels of necessity, and all the universe begins to revolve around me once more.” 

Saturday, February 3, 2018

I saw a guy shot on TV last night


February 3, 1968  (I was 23)

I saw a guy shot on TV last night
It wasn’t Gunsmoke
Or I Spy
just the news
nothing really dramatic
I was half asleep
when a news-filmed Viet Cong kid
was led down the street
by two ARVN soldiers
to an officer
who immediately raised a pistol to the kid’s head
and fired
The kid dropped right on his ass
to the road
and the screen faded to Imperial Margarine

Monday, September 25, 2017

Motive Psychal –a theory


September 25, 1968  (I was 23)

Motive Psychal –a theory
         Teachers are perhaps some of the most insecure people on
earth, especially those of us who go right from college into the field
without an appreciable interlude in any other area of life.
         School life is secure.  It is organized, programmed, sheltered.
it is a microcosmic existence filled with tiny traumas and elfin
ecstasies which provide a suitable surrogate for reality.  In short,
the institutional environment provides a reasonable facsimile,
without the dangers of adult society.  It may be reasonable to
assume that those individuals who are attracted to life-long service
in the system,  are the same individuals who, during their own school
days, allowed themselves to become attached to the micro-facades of
school society to the extent of excluding identification with the world
outside that protective womb.
         If this is true, our educational systems may be filled with
people incapable of providing students with a suitable preparatory
program for living.  What proportion of the accepted values of school
society are those accepted in practice in a non-protective atmosphere?
Does great success depend on an ability to follow orders, to mimic a
textbook and subdue emotions, or is the truly successful individual
the maverick with a cultivated disdain for design, an aversion to
accepted truths and an outrage toward passivity?

         -this from one embarking upon a lifetime at the work   

Sunday, September 17, 2017

School has become people again


September 17, 1968  (I was 23)

         School has become people again, and once more
I have developed that blanket tickle that grips the top of my
stomach –a cancerous excitement.  The teacher orientation
week before the start of the school year is deflating to say
the least.  I arrived the first morning wanting to teach, but
after the first administrivia meeting I was ready to quit.
         The first day came and went and the clean little
animals had hardly littered the cages.  Their keepers had
scrubbed and polished until they all looked alike.
         But the second day, the second day they had changed.
They were no longer units or students or what have you.
They resembled (it always amazes me) me.  it was good to
see them alive, because I am a vampire –I need to suck out
their enthusiasm to keep alive.  They give it so willingly and
they have so much.
         I have remembered the absolute law of survival at
the zoo.  All keepers (in loco parentis) take heed:
         IGNORE THE CRAP

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Eng. 225 3cr.


June 6, 1968  (I was 23)

Eng. 225  3cr.
The too young professor of English
PhD Stanford
studied cynicism in tweed
now professes Shakespeare polysyllabically
and organically of course
abhors the theatre
and women educators
of both sexes
fluctuates between
Tillyard and G.W. Knight
Flying Dutchman and Newports
and discusses The Winter’s Tale
the night of Bobby Kennedy’s death.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald


October 8, 1968  (I was 23)

My Generation, F. Scott Fitzgerald 
Quotes taken from Esquire, Oct. 1968

“Jingo was  the lingo.”

“We were born to power and intense nationalism.  We did not have
to stand up in a movie house and recite a child’s pledge to the flag
to be aware of it.  We were a race that could potentially lick ten
of any genus.”

“We are these men…[who]…found themselves singing, ‘We’re In The
Army Now.’  Their first discovery of 1919 was that nobody cared.”

“The capacity of this generation has run very thin.  The war, the
peace, the boom, the Depression, the shadow of the new war
scarcely  correspond to the idea of Manifest Destiny.”

“By and large I grant them…[the next generation]…a grace we do
not have, and for all we know the Messiah may be among them.  But
we are something else again.”

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises


September 24, 1968  (I was 23)

         Quotes from Nikos Kazantzakis, Spiritual Exercises
         “I do not know whether behind appearances there lives and moves a secret essence superior to me.  Nor do I ask; I do not care.  I create phenomena in swarms, and paint with a full palette a gigantic and gaudy curtain before the abyss.  Do not say, ‘Draw the curtain that I may see the painting.”  The curtain is the painting.”
         “I have one longing only:  to grasp what is hidden behind appearances, to ferret out that mystery which brings me to birth and then kills me, to discover if behind the visible and unceasing stream of the world an invisible and immutable presence is hiding.”
         “In sudden dreadful moments a thought flashes through me:  ‘This is all a cruel and futile game, without beginning, without end, without meaning.’ But again I yoke myself swiftly to the wheels of necessity, and all the universe begins to revolve around me once more.”