Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Global Warming

I am loving what Global Warming has wrought in my neck of the woods. Usually in August down here in the south Louisiana swamps the morning lows hover around the low-eighties to the high-seventies. Ah, but thanks to the Global Warming (I capitalize it because I fear the wrath of AlGore if I don't) it has been very cool for the last few days when I take my instance mutt for her first walk of the day. This morning it was sixty-five degrees, attabody Al!

I write. That is my thing. I am retired. Retirement was forced on me early because of my health. I have emphysema, but thanks to what I call "miracle drugs" I am able to have an almost normal life. I have been walking four miles a day, but have cut that down to two miles because I just wanted to see if I could do four miles. Now that I can I don't need to. One mile in the morning and one mile in the evening do me quite well.

I am alone. Well, except for the mutt, more on her later. I lost my wife last February 9 and had to leave where we lived to Thibodaux, Louisiana, about ten miles from Houma, my former residence. Financial deprivation was the problem. But I guess I am never alone. I have my writing and therefore all the characters I conjure up in my stories. I know they are not real, except in my mind, and I am not able to correspond with them except in directing them to perform certain things in my stories or poems.

Oh yes, I write poetry also. I write all kinds of poetry. Bad poetry. Good poetry. Better poetry. In fact as of about two weeks ago I have begun a novel told in the poetry style. That's something new, never attempted that before. I'm up to thirteen chapters now and am enjoying it. On top of that I am writing a suspense novel I have named Shared Madness. So, you see, I am really not alone.

How we deceive ourselves. Of course I am alone. My characters are characters, not a person. I want that again. I desire to meet a woman who love to read or write novels and poetry. I would like to bounce ideas off her and just communicate with her about . . . Well, everything. I miss that. I miss that very much. I suppose I will eventually run across her. Hopefully. But I am a seventy-year-old man with a couple of chipped, bad teeth in front, which I suppose isn't too attractive. I'd get them fixed, but I can't. I don't have the money and I can't find a dentist who takes Medicare. Sex? Sure. That part of me hasn't left, although I am not as passionate about it as I once was, I still like to "do it."

Later I will get into more about me, my writing and whatever happened, happens and will happen in my life, but for now
I'm outta here. Got to watch Grand Torino. Because I told someone I would. A man of my word.

2 comments:

  1. Yes, I read that before and now I can (hopefully) comment on it as I have registered with my own blog.

    Thank you for letting us into your world...

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  2. I liked that: 'I live to write and I write to live.' Same idea I had when I realized, I 'write to write.'

    ReplyDelete