no reading, no cry

Thinking earlier about the bleeding cut on the arm and into the (Ocean Beach) Shed shop and the fabulous magazine, it comes back to writing and being inspired by good writing and writing because it’s me, it’s what I do and have done and plan to do and the good Lord willing and there ain’t no meltdown will keep doing, just like as long as my knees are cool with it keep doing good, long walks every day, and as my system allows getting out of bed with the cardinal bird alarm just after 4:30 and sitting in meditation (20 minutes today) and drinking so-early coffee and rejoicing that my eyes continue to work, of course necessary reading glasses like 30 years now, and there it is again – words –

And being inspired by the way weavers of language do their thing, and that does include my own writing abilities and strengths and histories and sometime successes, and (example) should be arriving through Amazon shipment today – while I’m off with the kids – 29 more copies of my brand newly published book and I’m normal, a little, and so of course hope to sell some, long ago gave up the idea of making any money it’s become how much do I lose, and here’s an example, my last book – “The Files of Milky Dent” – is, I believe, the most interesting and maybe skilled and I think engaging for alert, interested minds and a thing in this life of which I am so proud, and I sold I think three copies of it and lost a bunch of money. What can I do? I ask, sometimes I probably cozy up to a place of semi-begging, and people don’t buy them, my books, and I think if I’ve written well and created interesting covers, and given myself all the way, then it’s just what it is. I can’t make people read, and while some of all my history and how I moved through the world many of my years leans me toward a place that feels like and sounds like and in fact is like judgement, I have no interest in that these days, and these days stretch back a while, and becoming more pronounced with passing time, like how much I have thought about and mentioned and talked about and philosophized about in this Blog, keeping to my side of the street and not even considering going over to yours. Think about it – I don’t belong on your side of the street. When I was married I did belong on my wife’s side of the street, because she invited me there and expected me there – and totally vice versa – and then that changed and I had to commit entirely and with big, wide consciousness to stay over here on mine alone, and the fact is that went as well as could be expected, pretty darn good considering the circumstances so soaked in sadness and loss, and I’ve stretched it out these last seven or more months to pretty much all the areas of my life now. Meaning, I came to my Blog every day I promised I would, and it became a book (“Weather”) which I think is pretty interesting and I have journals and letters of writers I love, Jack, Sylvia, Allen, many more, and I love those books, there’s something special about being let in intimately to a life, so yes I think my book has some of that specialness, here on my side of the street I wrote it and my focus isn’t trying to convince people to buy it and moan all over the place when they don’t – that’s their life – my absolutely clear business is try to get myself writing fiction again so I can finish the endlessly languishing “Collected Strays” and get that out in the world for people to either read or not, this is my place here on my side of the street now, and I have prayed for help to find the opening, window, path, through which to travel to get to the place of devotion and inspiration and sweat-gushing keyboard banging necessary to make my hopes (“Strays”) become a thing I can hold in my hand – like the new book now.

So, that’s the way of the world, like Earth, Wind, and Fire would sing, and me keeping the focus on me here on my side and crawling over the mental road blocks I have and getting three or four stories finished because, again, included (in “Strays”) is some of the best writing I’ve done and I want to share it. Which is what I have this Monday morning.