Thanks to the 111 people who checked in on this writer's blog today. Excuse: a week ago last Friday, my throat grew scratchy. On Saturday the 10th, my itchy throat turned into a full blown cold that is still with me today in the form of a cough that keeps me awake many hours of the night. Not much energy for creative writing in all that time. Up to that Friday, the 8 line poems continued to come at the pace of about "one a day"... like the vitamin pill. I hope to write one today before I head home. After so much time not creating anything, I sort of lose myself and feel adrift. Yesterday, in a funk, I told my wife she needed to quit her job, and we'd go down and live on the Gulf Coast, an old fantasy of mine that preceded my meeting with her. She laughed, "And we'd live off your social security?" She's been a peach through all this, making dinner when she gets home when it's my job to do that during the week.
My son and daughter-in-law visited last week for a day and a night, and now my son reports a sore throat. That's the first symptom. I felt a little ashamed in that the dishes were piled high on the counter next to the sink and no food in the house and I wasn't up to cooking. Took them out to dinner and lunch next day. They were uncomplaining, and we had a great visit full of enlightening conversation.
My youngest son, Patrick (right), visits next week. He teaches physical education in Spokane and occasionally takes a continuing education workshop in Portland. A creative type too, he has put together improv troupes in Spokane and Bremerton for many years. He's currently forming another group in Spokane. They'll perform out of the Blue Door Theater most likely.
Photo's from last summer at excellent 42nd Street Cafe in Long Beach, Wa. Older son, Sean (left), works in a creative field too. Has his own business in graphic design and now lives and works thru his midlife crisis out of a fifth wheeler on the road in partnership with his wife, Sheila.
Still
coughing thru the nite (even with cough suppressant). Baldness, bad cold, cough and cold meds don't create much but
fevered flashes within my synaptic self. I'll restart rewrite of Angie's Choice on Monday I believe.
Found new place to eat vegan and think revolution. The Red and the Black Cafe in Portland. Co-op ownership and IWW Union shop. Couldn't ask for a more beat place. The food is great. Once or twice I'll have to drive over there to write, see if it fires my flickering imagination. Maybe Tuesday when I go to Portland for the Humanist men's monthly lunch.
