17 September 2014

I tend

to wake & spring from bed. but this morning my eyes opend & I didn't feel like rising. I had almost 7 hours of uninterruptd sleep but just didn't want to get up. I'm not sick nor depressd. yes it's no thrill to face paying bills & other mundane activities facing me today. but many are the days when my agenda is unappealing.

what I do on those rare mornings such as this is to think & "write."  I compose elaborate essays. this morning began with one I've considerd before: of Brando/Dean/Newman which is the greatest actor of that generation. I did compose some pithy sentences. but soon my mind was elsewhere.  I began to contemplate how I developd from student of the academy to outlaw poet. of course this shd be of no interest to me. whatever happend to me as poet ought to be subject for others. but my little books rarely receive reviews. so I hardly can expect anyone to want to write abt my life or work.

realizing such thinking was silly & that Kiddo was no doubt hungry I liftd myself out of bed.

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