papat

so, this week had me thinking
ha! ...a shocker

thinking a bit about my last post

when i wrote it I had other thoughts in mind than the ones that actually manifested through the interface of phalangeal articulation upon my keyboard


so, i felt a bit disingenuous
what with the final product not exactly resembling anything all that personal or revealing

or so i thought



i've been reading again lately
it's an on-again/off-again sort of thing for me, reading, it is
so, last week, or was it two?
i took the final ride with JD
(Salinger, if you must ask)
I'd read the other bits
nine stories and zooey and frannie n' such
but alas, just recently, i finally read the big one
the one that supposedly caused all that fuss

and it didn't really strike me as anything all that better than the others
for they each had their individual charm

but it did occur to me, too, that the hubbub was more something about when it was written

i mean, he was beat before beat was beat

and for some folks, i expect, that was downright frightening



and then i realized, or rather, i remembered, what i'd known for some time
is that that dude can write
he can tell a story
...a master at character vernacular
...a rambler extraordinaire


much the same as the weaver of my latest tale


(i had to wonder why a beloved musician took the name of Scout)
And, Atticus, Atticus, Atticus...
of course, what was that all about?

david duchovny dropped the Attticus glass bead this season
ol' Hank is a writer, too
and a single dad, as I
yet, my rock n roll tales aren't quite so amazing
(I only partied with the rock stars who never quite were)
sure, we all thought we rocked at the time
but look at us now
wherever we are
blessedly, alive, i guess
mostly



<cheers>



in truth
(not like the rest was at all a lie)
it was a rough week
books were a delightful saving grace
but work and money are thin
and my head feels unbearably clamped

apparently i'm a magician without a muse
unable to yet conjure a spell of instant abundance
yet, i tread on,
knowing winter isn't forever
no matter what they say in the realm
i'll make it to spring
and summer beyond
much as i always have
laying half-nekkid in the sun
my blanket there on the green grass
and not a care in the world


for now, as some of you may have heard
i have cider
and lots of it
sagardo
sidra
cidre
ahhh...
it's good
i did well

and someday, I hope
i will sell


until then
i toast to you
and you
and you

may we all live and love
and do our species proud



myself
i'm uncorking another bottle
and contemplating how i ought repaint this room


ramble out