Saturday, July 3, 2010
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
I know it's been awhile. A few things have happened since my last message. My younger daughter and I have both gotten jobs. Hallelujah! She's working for MTV, specifically VH1 and Nick. Me, I'm working part-time as a shelver at my local library. Dream job! I love being around books everyday. My foot is in the door, jack! I'm really glad about it all. My daughter gets to support herself and I get to finally make a contribution to my household. Thank God! Literally. Things are definitely going well.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Well, it's time to add to this blog. I, unfortunately, cannot add as often as I'd like due to computavailabilty (my own word). Until we get a new computer I'll try and update at least once a week.
Having said that, let me say this: my family is phenominal! Not hyperbole, on my part, just fact. Sorry. If you (whoever you are) take some offense at this statement- oh well.
I've just finished reading my wife's blog and my older daughter's blog and, I must admit, I'm very impressed with their honesty and grace. As a matter of fact, the only person not blogging (as far as I know) is my young son. My younger daughter has, I think, become the inspiration for us all! Good show, Sista!
To my wife I must say I am proud to be married to such a rich and intelligent woman. Her insights just truly blow me away!
To my oldest daughter I give not only my deepest love, but all the understanding it takes to help her see that she is so much better than she expresses in her blog. I totally empathize with her and offer her all the support I can give to help her know that, in spite of feelings (which we all have, good & bad), there is lifegiving love that surrounds her everyday. Not only is she loved by her family but, most importantly, she is loved by God. It don't get no better than that!
OK. Enough of the gooey stuff.
Here is some more prose poetry for you by another of my faves- Nin Andrews. Check it out.
Marriage
It happened on a beach at sunset with wind just lifting
my hair, the dress wrapping around my legs, and the
sound of waves and gulls... Like an ad for eternal bliss.
Strangers snapped our photos and American Airlines
used us in travel brochures. What I remember best is
how I sucked in for air when I said I do, and I felt
something snap inside me. A tiny bone spur in the heart.
A splinter of pain I still feel. Staring out at the water, a
shimmer racing across the surface, tiny sails racing into
the horizon... I try not to think what I was thinking. Not
then, not ever.
Nin Andrews
I'm out (for now)
Having said that, let me say this: my family is phenominal! Not hyperbole, on my part, just fact. Sorry. If you (whoever you are) take some offense at this statement- oh well.
I've just finished reading my wife's blog and my older daughter's blog and, I must admit, I'm very impressed with their honesty and grace. As a matter of fact, the only person not blogging (as far as I know) is my young son. My younger daughter has, I think, become the inspiration for us all! Good show, Sista!
To my wife I must say I am proud to be married to such a rich and intelligent woman. Her insights just truly blow me away!
To my oldest daughter I give not only my deepest love, but all the understanding it takes to help her see that she is so much better than she expresses in her blog. I totally empathize with her and offer her all the support I can give to help her know that, in spite of feelings (which we all have, good & bad), there is lifegiving love that surrounds her everyday. Not only is she loved by her family but, most importantly, she is loved by God. It don't get no better than that!
OK. Enough of the gooey stuff.
Here is some more prose poetry for you by another of my faves- Nin Andrews. Check it out.
Marriage
It happened on a beach at sunset with wind just lifting
my hair, the dress wrapping around my legs, and the
sound of waves and gulls... Like an ad for eternal bliss.
Strangers snapped our photos and American Airlines
used us in travel brochures. What I remember best is
how I sucked in for air when I said I do, and I felt
something snap inside me. A tiny bone spur in the heart.
A splinter of pain I still feel. Staring out at the water, a
shimmer racing across the surface, tiny sails racing into
the horizon... I try not to think what I was thinking. Not
then, not ever.
Nin Andrews
I'm out (for now)
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Hi again! Here's a prose poem from another fave: James Tate. Check it out!
Teaching the Ape to Write Poems
They didn't have much trouble
teaching the ape to write poems:
first they strapped him into the chair,
then tied the pencil around his hand
(the paper had already been nailed down).
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder
and whispered into his ear:
" You look like a god sitting there.
Why don't you try writing something ? "
James Tate
Wow!
Teaching the Ape to Write Poems
They didn't have much trouble
teaching the ape to write poems:
first they strapped him into the chair,
then tied the pencil around his hand
(the paper had already been nailed down).
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder
and whispered into his ear:
" You look like a god sitting there.
Why don't you try writing something ? "
James Tate
Wow!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I love prose poetry. If you're of a mind you should check out James Tate, Denise Duhamel, Nin Andrews, Marilyn Seaton, Charles Simic or, one of my faves, Russell Edson. Check this out!
SLEEP
There was a man who didn't know how to sleep; nodding
off every night into a drab, unprofessional sleep. Sleep that
he'd grown so tired of sleeping.
He tried reading The Manual of Sleep, but it just put him
to sleep. That same old sleep that he had grown so tired of
sleeping...
He needed a sleeping master, who with a whip and a
chair would discipline the night, and make him jump through
hoops of gasolined fire. Someone who could make a tiger
sit on a tiny pedestal and yawn...
Russell Edson
SLEEP
There was a man who didn't know how to sleep; nodding
off every night into a drab, unprofessional sleep. Sleep that
he'd grown so tired of sleeping.
He tried reading The Manual of Sleep, but it just put him
to sleep. That same old sleep that he had grown so tired of
sleeping...
He needed a sleeping master, who with a whip and a
chair would discipline the night, and make him jump through
hoops of gasolined fire. Someone who could make a tiger
sit on a tiny pedestal and yawn...
Russell Edson
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Hey. I'm kinda feelin' my way through this whole "blog" thing so give me a little time to get it right. I do hope to make it worth somebody's while to read what I intend for this site. But, above all, like the title intimates, it will be a 'lake' of ideas to consider and explore. 'Nuff said, for now. Will be back, soon.
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