I Kan't Spell

 
Chapter 6

I took an excerpt from the Chapter - which up to this point is one of my favorites. It talks about my trips to the south and my unique look into Southern culture and being alone with my Mother at the beach.

It also recants a time when I asked "Is there a God" when I was 10 and God showed me a sign... literally.

"The smell of the south is the smell of God's laundry." I didn't read that anywhere - but I would like to quote myself on it. North Carolina is my favorite of the southern states. It's just industrial enough to be small town and just small town enough to have an ocean view.

"What are those?"
"Those are pecans."
"I want some."
"They aren't ready to eat yet you little toe head."
"Well, I WANT SOME."
"Be our guest you little brat."

This was my first taste and memory of my Aunt's old plantation home in North Carolina. To me it was like something out of Gone With the Wind. Wrapping stair cases and 3 living rooms. Bedrooms were on the first floor because it's just too hot to have them upstairs. The lawn wasn't manicured but it was soft and ongoing for what seemed like an eternal nap of green.

The backyard was "infested" with farm cats. My Great Aunt Agnus would always "shoo" them and never feed them. "They have jobs. If they want to eat then they'll do a good job." She would always say... "Their job is to keep the mice out of our peanuts."

A peanut farmed landscape extended until the horizon from their back porch. It seemed too big for one man - My Uncle Whit - to farm and tend to.

Uncle Whit wore civil servant green shirts and plain type poly blend pants. He looked like a communist postman. He chewed tobacco and spit into a spittoon. Their daughter Nancy played guitar and made sweet tea for us. Every night we had home made biscuits from their giant southern kitchen.

At night - there was no television or debate. There was only talk of the weather and whatever my Father decided to get really excited about.


......---skip about 4 pages---.......


Needless to say Pecans are one of my favorite things to eat.

Link posted by JVMM : 11:06 AM

 
Chapter 5 - The Hodge Podge of Dizzy Dean
Chapter 5 was a lot of baseball stuff. It didn't turn out too great. I never really got down to the bedrock of what I was trying to say and somewhere in the middle it kind of sad that I was writing about 12 year old baseball in such reverance.

LOL - anyway - stuffs
Link posted by JVMM : 2:13 PM

 
Chapter 4 - On a train bound for nowhere...

Chapter 4 didn't tell an individual story and it didn't hope to grasp an idea - as Chapter 3 did - instead it told of the beginning of a journey... of an affair really - with a mistress that I find most cruel but most intoxicating... GAMBLING.

Those who know me know that I love to gamble. And most know why. My father was a gambler and a handicapper and a dreamer and a free spirit. The last two attributes , for anyone - make it hard to be a successful gambler... but they do make it more fun when you win. All of these poker players and professionally horse cappers I see don't have any fun because they play to the 51st percentile and that's it... my father... and I - play to the 30% percentile. We play for the long shot, for the rush, and not for the fun but sometimes...for the pain.

You see - sometimes people like to gamble 2$ because it's a rush to win. I like to gamble $2k because then it's a rush to do either... if you lose 2$ - who cares? If you lose 2k$ or win 2k$ then it's a rush either way. This is what causes the sickness of gambling and luckily I am not as bad as my father... but - - I do have some stories to tell about my dark horsed mistress. I do indeed... and that is what chapter 4 is about... a short collection of situations and scenarios that only a fellow gambler would find interesting... this chapter is not for the pedestrian minimum bet player.
Link posted by JVMM : 5:41 PM

 
Rootbeer and Sandwiches

Hands in the night
Touch and beds seem
Warm and cool; same.
She senses me uneasy
And wraps her arms
Around me.
Starting my day with
the best of feelings.
Love anew.
Link posted by JVMM : 8:50 AM

 
Chapter 3 - The Divide

I wrote Chapter 3 in 3 mornings in a row at work - I usually get in at about 730 and I write a paragraph and then do some work and write another and then have a smoke and think about it all...

This last paragraph was about how hard it is to lose friends when you go about being good at something or loving something else. When you are young and your parents put you in a position to achieve something great - whether it be athletics, music, or sports you find that you now have a NEW group of friends. And the kids you grew up with no longer understand your life... they don't know why you don't want to smoke weed, or drink, or stay out or go out with girls. They don't understand your higher purpose. They aren't on the same path as you and thus there is a divide...

Chapter 3 is 4 stories about that divide and how they were never closed but mended...

Enjoy your weekend and the mild July we are having.

BTW - thanks to my Aunt and Uncle for having Erin and myself up to enjoy your July 4th party and take in the absurd fireworks - - which I'm pretty sure were reported on the news... If you found my shirt - - let me know.
Link posted by JVMM : 1:24 PM

 
Chapter 2...

Sort of fell apart... but that's ok. Usually when I write it starts out as just one image... the image for this chapter was my Father jostling me back and forth in his Oldsmobile as we drove up Philadelphia road coming home from baseball game. It had an L seat and I used to roll from one side to the other laughing... laughing so hard I would beg to stop. I remember the sweet smell of the grass and honeysuckle on the side of the road... I remember the smell of summer and the comforting feeling that it was ok to laugh.

I didn't get far with the scene. 2 pages... which may be ok when I look back to edit things... but for now - - it just wasn't there.

However, one good thing did come out of the writing process. I used to love to listen to music, new music, all the time. In the past 4 years I haven't really delved into music the way I used to. I find that music accompanies a wakening of the senses... those senses for me have been mild drug use, lack of love, and writing. Since I don't do drugs, and I am in love, I have found that I wasn't searching for music to fill the void in my life any more. I had what I needed... I had my mind and I have my Erin.

But... when I write. I like to feel. I like to feel heavy and immovable. I like to listen to the poetry through the speakers and I find that the words being sung to me often take me on a journey. The sound of fingers over guitar strings and a sweet woman's voice singing a southern anthem are what make the fingers fly sometimes. And it works vice versa... it's hard to write without a drink, a cigarette or a great song playing. It's hard to focus. It's hard to feel just inside your own head... sometimes you need a muse... sometimes that muse is music and sometimes the love of music is charged by your desire to write.

I've been listening to the following song - - over and over - -



Bonnie Prince Billy - Hard Life - -

Enjoy your 4th of July weekend. My life is filled with a lot of love and joy. I am happy.
Link posted by JVMM : 11:23 AM