It’s hard to see the target in the haze I’m in. It’s hard to lift the gun. Taking aim? That’s for the professionals. It’s Tuesday morning, and I REALLY need to resume poppiing off the assignments I’ve had for the last three weeks, but didn’t devote serious time to until Monday. Everyone I talk with over the phone is happy to hear from me. Even the esteemed editor’s emails reflect unmistakable hints of cordiality. But knowing I’m so far behind makes it hard to get back on the range and step up to the firing line.
Declined an opportunity to sub teach today so I could give it all to the writing assignment. And true to the promise made earlier in the day to assignment HQ, I advised the sub line to take me off their list until next Monday. I BELIEVE I can complete this absolutely cherished writing project by then if I can get my head out of my hindwuarters and see the sunshine. On NPR this morning a famous writer was quoted as saying (I’m paraphrasing) writers spend their lives in a state of mind the rest of the world tries its best to escape from. And I believe her. It’s true with bush-leaguers, including moi, as well as those who interface with the majors.
I suck (mentally, metaphorically) on the solace from the success of my brush with joy over the weekend: my visit to the Springfield Art Association reception for the opening of their new exhibition: Nellie Knopf: A Life in Full Color. I KNEW I could not mope my way out of attending this event because even though a did attend Writers’ Bloc Saturday morning and had a great time, I still needed to get the heck out of the house for awhile.BTW, thanks to D&SP for their gift of CIVAG support! I do take my visual arts sites seriously and to elicit the support I need to keep them going, the enterprise benefits from my simply showing up at arts events. Besides, the SAA receptions have the best finger food and libations of any arts socials in this city.
Had a great time at the reception. Some people actually approached me to say hello and chat. This NEVER happens at poetry events anymore.
(And that’s one reason why I’m trimming my commitment to attending the open mics. I can watch atrophied aspirants charading through familiar motions on late night television infomercials. But I don’t watch them on TV, so I’ll be danged if I’ll leave the house and buy food to do it. And I have not been the poet I used to be, and I wish I were. I find it hard to appreciate roses of poems when I’m slogging shoulder deep through the unsavory muck of my own making. I have let poetry down. But really, I digress.)
So I took all the pictures I needed to take, talked with many good, convivial and intelligent people and true to form, as I breezed into the living room shedding coat and camera, turned on the TV to watch the last 10 minutes of Cops on Fox on my way to the office to start the computer.
Didn’t return to the livingroom for two and a half hours. Instead, downloaded the pictures from SAA. I had almost forgotten the joy of seeing images well-considered and composed during the event, appear on the monitor screen. It was like opening presents. I knew that with the happy, loose echoing of Chardonnay in my veins, I wasn’t going to do any serious work until Sunday, but it was still amazing to see results I knew I could finess into decent pictures!
<>So the finessing of the pictures is what I did after Meet the Press and This Week With George Stephanopoulous, to be referred to hereafter in this blog only as Goodhead Greek because it’s easier to spell. He is an excellent moderator and fine reporter, all kidding aside. . . . . . Finished up the editing about 3:30. Cleared my head with a few hours in the model airplane workshop and returned to the office to post the pictures at
There’s a link from that page to pictures from the SAA and other recent receptions I’ve attended.
So at about 10:30 Tuesday, by the time I’ve finished tweaking the typos out and rephrasing a liner two. I’m re-constituted enough to engage what I truly love: to be a journalist for six or seven hours today. Honest to gosh, I do feel better about life and the day ahead. Thanks “you all for kindly dropping in.
“You’re all invited back next week to this locality.
To share a heapin’ helpin’ of our hospitality.” — from the Beverly Hillbillies Theme
Live long . . . . and proper.