Mar
31
2013
It was very difficult to hand over my manuscript to someone else for a general reaction. I suspect I know what his reaction will be but I had to hand over the manuscript for someone’s opinion other than my wife. The manuscript is my “baby”. I believe the manuscript is worthy. I guess I just have to wait for my friend to respond to my collection of poetry. It is just a hard thing to do. He did say he will be fair about the process. I will just have to wait and waiting is hard.
Mar
27
2013
I am very aware how my written words sound to my ear. It does not matter what it is–a blog, essay, poem, etc. It always makes a difference when I have read a piece out loud. That was what was first–the oral tradition. People did not have books. They sat around a fire reciting their stories. When I read things I have written out loud, I find errors. Sometimes I have deleted a word or the tense is wrong. Other times a word may not ring true and I have to insert a different one. Sometimes there are duplication or repetition. If I don’t want a phrase there, I may have to move it or delete it. I may not like the cadence or sounds the words make. It is always easier to find the errors after I have read the piece out loud.
Mar
25
2013
‘Songs To Aging Children Come’ This is the title and a line from an early Joni Mitchell song I heard in the late sixties. In the song she says in beautiful language and this is a paraphrase: there is all this beauty around and don’t you see it. I do. And she ends the song saying: ‘songs to aging children come. This is one’. Back then and now I identified with the song. Another line was ‘people hurry by so quickly, don’t they hear the melodies…’
I saw all this beauty around me as a young adult and others were not seeing it. I could not understand that. Even today. I starting writing back then to the present to record this marvelous world before me and slow down my pace so I could capture this beauty. Then she ends the song: ‘Songs to aging children come. This is one.’ I had to grow up and still be child-like so I understood her song perfectly. I was not all alone.
Mar
16
2013
‘With whom I can be what I want to be.’ This is a line from a song of a Ian Anderson album (“Benefit”–Jethro Tull). I understood this line perfectly. It is important what friends you surround yourself with: they can either bring you up or down. It is critical, also, whom you choose as your mate. He/she can help you be what you ought to be or get in the way. I could not do all the writing I do had it not been for my wife’s support. I would not have my web site (siggyscafe.com) or blog (siggyscafe.com/Blog) if it was not for her. No one can completely fulfill your needs but it is important to be around others as much as you can who support your most important endeavors. Another words, who let you be who you want to be. You will be happier in the long run.
Mar
15
2013
This is in praise of Bic pens. I don’t use expensive pens. I would only lose them. Bic pens are cheap. When one does not work, I simply throw it away. I just make sure the caps are on it when I put one in my pocket. I have ruined too many pants that way when they leaked. I store them all over my house. I don’t like being too far from a pen when the urge strikes to write so I keep my pens in strategic spots in my house. I get a little bit nervous when my supply of Bic pens dwindle. My wife, of course, thinks this is all ridiculous. And criticizes me when I feel compelled to replenish my supply in the nearest Office Max (or Wal Mart).
Mar
3
2013
I am going to keep a writing calendar. It was my wife’s idea. Every year we get lots of calendars in the mail we never use. I will use it in all kinds of ways. The dates of poetry submissions will be recorded. I will also put other tasks down revolving around my writing. The calendar will force me to become more accountable; after all, I don’t want the dates to be blank. I thought this was a great idea.
Mar
1
2013
Why is it your own “blood” does not validate you? My writing growing up was always taken for granted by my immediate family–my mom and dad and two sisters. In the beginning it was my letter writing. In the sixties I started keeping a journal. In the late seventies I wrote poetry. And now I am going on the fifth year of keeping a web site and blog. Both of my parents are now dead. I am not sure if my two sisters ever go on my web sites. They usually don’t comment on them. My writing is who I am, what is going on which is important to me.
Gratefully my wife cares about my writing, as well as other friends. I found out I had a talent for making people laugh at open mikes. And that is a validation of my writing although humor is not the only type of writing I do. I keep getting hits on my web sites and that is encouraging. And occasionally I get a poem published in a literary magazine. I guess we choose our friends. We can’t choose our family. Up till his dying day my father who lived until ninety-two was more impressed with money than anything I wrote. I was a failure in that area. That still hurts. Sometimes you have to go outside of your family for validation. And that was my case.
Jun
6
2012
I am not my diagnosis. I could state it but it does not matter. I am a man who loves all kinds of music, writes poetry, letters and other things. I love nature particularly the birds I attract with all my feeders. I am married to a woman I love who is not quite the same but loves a lot of the same things particularly music from the same era. She is not perfect but close. We both love to read and I have more books in my house that I ever had before. She loves mysteries. I don’t. But our tastes in books and music is very eclectic. Music and books are all over the house. She usually lets me be. I am not as good as her in that regard and sometimes have to learn to be quiet. We have our own space in our house. I love the mountains, the lakes and ocean. So does she. We live on the edge of country. I am all these things and more. I am not my diagnosis I have to state again. That is just an artificial artifact. The doctors need that and my insurance. That is the only purpose of my diagnosis. It is not me.
May
12
2012
I just obey my muse. If there is something begging to come out: I write. If it is not practical to do so, I may take some notes and when I am able to, then write. Usually I do not share the subject with any one for then it loses its power. Of course, I do not write about everything all the time. But most of the time I make it either to the computer or my old fashioned notebook. If you feel very strongly about something, that is the time to write. Whatever emotions you are feeling will come out in your writing. Don’t let too much time go by. Now is the time to obey your muse.
Mar
7
2012
There is always something going on with you to write about. The trick is to pick up a thread–something that is prominent in your consciousness and follow it. The ability to do that accurately gives it force and honesty.
It is a question of being quiet and noticing what is going on. There are always all kinds of thoughts running through your head. What thoughts have the greatest concern at the moment? Those are the thoughts you focus on.
Realize you have to choose to record them. If you feel compelled all the time to write, eventually you will peter out. There is always something you are mulling over. You live to write, not write to live.
Feb
22
2012
My Dad was dead twelve years and I was still angry at him. I still remember the last conversation I had with him and he said he was more impressed with the million dollars his future son-in-law made selling his company than anything I did. My writing did not matter to him. I tried to tell him, maybe, my words might have more effect on people than my future brother-in-law’s money. It was to no avail. Money meant more to him than anything else. I never got “the blessing” from him. And even today, years later I was still angry about his rejection of who I was. He was the one person I wanted to please. And even now the hurt and pain has not gone away.
Dec
8
2011
I am hesitant to go to a high school reunion. For many reasons. Maybe, the main reason is there is nothing there for me any longer. It is over forty years ago I graduated from high school. I still remember going back to my hometown in the early seventies and I realized I could not go back.
All the people I knew were either in college or had moved away. The racial complexion of my community had changed drastically. Then it had become mostly Cuban.
Considerably more time has passed since then. I am not the same person. Of course, there are other reasons. All these people have become strangers. For that matter, the few people I wanted to keep up with I did. There were not many. Two of them were on the tennis team I played.
There is always the fear no one will remember me although I am always curious what memories anyone had of me. If any?! Another reason is I fear I may not have anything to show for my life. Some people may have become doctors, teachers and hold advanced degrees. I have none.
The last fear is one I have to resist. To some degree I have done what I wanted to, which is to write although I have not made a living from it. I never had to. There may be no reason to connect with anyone. There is too much “posturing” that goes on in these reunions.
Time is really fleet. It seemed like I just graduated from high school and that is just an illusion. A lifetime has gone by. Sometimes I do not know how to account for that. And maybe that is my worst fear. I squandered my precious time.
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