Summing Up and Forging On

Snowing in Houston area. F**k the snow and cold.

27 degrees, flakes on the ground.
My dog runs in the snow.
Frank the cat is hiding somehow.
Don't know where he would choose to go
Snow snow, Houston snow
What did we do, it abuses so
Snow snow f**k the glorious snow

You can ignore this voice of the not-formally educated if you like. I left the system as I was about to turn sixteen. I was a reader all of my life until my eyes became too weak. My knowledge of grammar and my understanding of words are based on what I picked up from various authors, not Strunk and White. When I edit a story, I read as one reads any author, looking for the flow, stumbling on errors, and cluttered language. I do this as often as necessary. I opt for simple words because ornate paragraphs confuse me and cause me to lose interest. Also, simplicity makes editing easier. When I wrote my last book I wrote as I normally speak, then cleaned up overly sloppy portions, while retaining my original voice. My subject matter rarely calls for research, making the simple simpler. Lastly, I use the free version of Grammarly, which is overly intrusive, but it helps the way a thesaurus and a dictionary help. Grammarly can screw up a sentence if you don't watch it carefully. Lastly, I write what I want to write. If it sells, great. If not - Well, it may be discovered and made use of in some future I am not a part of. Good luck if you too are a writer.

I never expected to win the lottery when I began playing. I still don't. The reason I play is simple. I don't have a lot of money. Lighting could strike. If not, well, I don't spend that much on it. I used to spend lots more on alcohol and tobacco. I was just musing. I was 42 when I began playing. The reason I know is because I play number 42 on the lottery, my age at the time I first played. So I've been buying tickets for 40 years. Don't tell me I should have banked the money. I go through enough money crises that I would have dipped into the savings and spent all of it.

For approximately three months I was incapable of developing a new story. The publication of EndEarthers was that overwhelming. But now I'm nearing the finish of a first draft of about 9,000 words titled: "Spacer: The Last of the Species." It is, I am proud to say, one of my best efforts. I will offer it as a stand alone, but if no one accepts it I intend to build a new collection around it.

My natural bowlegs have bowed more in recent times. The dog has taken to walking with me in between my legs.

The film, A Complete Unknown, has put Dylan's massive hit song Like a Rolling Stone in the spotlight. The album it's on is back on the charts. As all who know me recognize, I am a huge Dylan fan. But as with every artist I like, he has songs I am either indifferent to or even dislike. Like a Rolling Stone has some good qualities and it appears on my favorite Dylan album. But it did not take all that long to move on to other music. Looking back over the lyrics I find the story it tells not so exceptional and I grew tired of the whole production. Among his more popular songs that I don't like is Lay Lady Lay. But his best work still puts me in agreement with the committee that awarded him his Nobel Prize.

I enjoyed this movie a lot being a fan of folk and being of a certain age. I’m amazed at the acting and the ability for the actor to perform this music himself. I’m saddened about the indication of how he “devolved” over time.

The actor said he would love to do a series of more films covering the stages of Dylan's career. I would like that also.

In NYC in the late 60s I went to the show to see Ulysses, based on the James Joyce novel. An elderly couple in front of me shared a curious look when the introductory music played. As soon as the first scene opened they got up and left. I knew without being told they had been expecting Homer's version of the tale.

I sometimes rewatch The Good The Bad and The Ugly. Seen on a smaller screen, the brutality of the early scenes with Lee Van Cleef are disturbing. But not to the same extent as when seen on a movie screen. Those scenes are to me much more powerful in a theater. I was still in NYC when I saw it. The man in front of me seemed physically ill by the time Cleef shot the man through a pillow. He got up and was gone. Despite these vile images I consider it a great movie. The only Clint Eastwood western I like as much as it is The Outlaw Josie Wales.

Lying in bed this morning, trying to sleep more but failing, I recalled a younger day when I was strong and athletic. Then I remembered a day when I witnessed a boy throw a rock over the fence and hit my son on the head. It was a six foot high picket fence. I was so enraged I charged at the fence full speed. Then I put my hands on the pickets and launched myself over it, clearing my feet by several inches. Not missing a step I ran up the stairs to the boy's home, about 20 feet behind him. I knocked on the door, told the boy's mother what happened, then hurried home, fearing I might get accused of assault.

Then I got up and hobbled into the kitchen to make the coffee.

I saw the dog grab something off of the floor. Didn't think much about it, thinking a morsel of food must have made its way there. Ten minutes later I saw in the same spot one of my hearing aids. It was slightly wet. Must be the dog picked it up but dropped it. I checked it out. It still works.

Two days of hard freeze. I'm sleeping under an electric blanket tonight. Dripping water. Extra bedding for the dog. The electric has blinked twice, making the transformer groan. Hopefully I will be back on tomorrow.

Tonight should be the last freeze of the season. This cold snap has been brutal in Dallas.

As much as I dread a brutal summer I prefer it to freezing like this.