There are days.
Some days,
too many days,
the events of the world
here and everywhere
are so outrageous
I can only storm,
shout and swear.
Other days,
too many days,
the way humans treat each other
is so incredible
and oppressive
I can hardly move
or raise my voice.
How can I take them in?
How can I single them out?
How can I answer the cries
that go on and on
all too many days
but with my own dry tears.
Be the first to comment
Read other posts in Creativity
• There is a reason that name-brand canned tuna is better than your grocery store brand: the store-brand stuff has chopped tuna eyes in it. Look at the label if you don’t believe me.
• I have an idea for an iPad app for pianists. It would not only display the sheet music for the composition but would “listen along” as you play and automatically “flip the page” when you reach the last measure on the page. Ideally, the app would also let you place a second iPad to the right of the first so you can always see the look-ahead page.
• No rhyme or reason? There may be no reason but one can always find a rhyme.
• A few days after the Malaysian airliner disappeared, NBC News chose to air a segment featuring a man who was scheduled to board the flight but did not, and so he “survived” this event. The man attributed his existence on this planet to “the grace of God.” Why is it that the logic of religion always seems to lead so quickly to the specialness of “me?”
• I am finally over mourning my 50s and I now take heart that I am in my early 60s. (After all, what choice do I have?)
• Besides my wife saying “good morning” to me, the sound I love to hear to start my day is the friendly, familiar, slowly rising-in-pitch gurgle as hot coffee fills my mug. The kitchen is quiet, save for this sound. The echo of that sound makes my first sip taste delicious.
• Introverts vs extroverts: extroverts don’t care whether others approve of their behavior, so they go ahead and do whatever suits them, which ironically attracts certain people. Introverts on the other hand are guarded about their behavior, protecting themselves from disapproval and isolating themselves from affirmation, effectively turning people away. I wish I were more outgoing, because it is rewarding to seek out and exchange ideas with others — but then again I value the time I need to focus on my own creative goals. In the end, I’m not sure there is that much difference between introverts and extroverts except for the ability to recognize and confidently project one’s own essence.
• People ask, what is my blog about. I never have a ready answer. Maybe that’s a good thing. The minute I feel predictable is when I feel the urge to do something different and throw myself and my readers out of our respective comfort zones. So I must make the following announcement: this blog is about making connections and it always has been.
Be the first to comment
Read other posts in Thoughts @ Large
“Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins, what was it like being 60?”
“What? Who are you people?”
“Piers Morgan, CNN, Mr. Collins. Pray tell, what was it like being 60?”
“Piers? As in Fillmore Pierce Buchanan? What time is it, anyway?”
“It is just past midnight on the day you were born, sixty-one years ago. You must be seeing flashes of your life pass your eyes right now, tell us about them please.”
“Piers Morgan… I don’t think I ever watched you. Where’s Keith Olbermann?”
“Would you rate your life, so far, as more successful or less successful than the rollout of President Obama’s Affordable Care Act?”
“Um. I think my art career, slow going as it has been, probably started out better than the Affordable Care Act. But my whole life? Who wrote these questions?”
“Let’s talk about the 1960’s. You grew up in the 60’s, the days of free love, mind-altering drugs and anti-establishment protests. You were there, at Woodstock, when Jimi Hendrix played the National Anthem on his electric guitar. How high were you that morning, and do you remember any of it?”
“Tell me more about your ordeals in that formative year, Mr. Collins. For instance, did you have friends who were killed in the Vietnam war or in demonstrations against it?”
“Piers, I didn’t know anyone who went to Vietnam. People all around me went to Vietnam and didn’t come back, but I didn’t know them. There were few volunteers. It was the time of college deferments and conscientious objectors. And that gave way to draft lotteries. Based on my birth date, my lottery number was in the mid 200’s. So I didn’t have to go. No army for me. I never would have survived.”
“Mr. Collins, how can you live with yourself, knowing how so many of your cohort died in Vietnam, never to see their own sixty-first birthdays? Not to mention the ones who did return, scarred by that war, what would you say to them now? Would you tell them your lottery number? Would that make everything all right?”
“No. No. The cruelty of this unfair life is that those who aren’t subject to misery are left to feel guilt for not having suffered. If only happiness were the norm. If only the outcome of the roll of the dice was less stark. If only we even had a chance to roll the dice.”
“Mr. Collins, thank you. Happy Birthday to you. This is Piers Morgan, CNN.”