Too many projects!!!

I’ve been writing a ton lately, but been all over the place working on 4 separate projects.
1. The original story, book
2. The series of short poems
3. Book about how to change from the mindset of ‘ego’ to the mindset of ‘humility’
4. A travelblog with a roadpoet flare—to be housed right here!

It seems I need to focus my writing so #1 & #2 will be set aside until I get closer to finishing #3 & #4

Hope all is well with everyone…Peace!

p.s.-Now on facebook with keyword: roadpoet

The Long Drive Home

I’d planned not to write again until I was home, but then again I’ve planned a lot of things on this trip which have left God laughing.

Actually today’s the 15th and now that I think of it, I planned on being home today. Hmm, well maybe tomorrow.

So I snuck back into northern Michigan for a quick two day affair before retuning home. I was, of course, rewarded by many natural scenes of wildlife and northern beauty, but that’s not why I’m writing.

I was eating at the only all night diner I’d seen anywhere near Belaire, Michigan. The night air was as still and quiet as the interior of the diner. Myself and the cook/waitress/everything were accompanied by one of her regular’s around four o’clock.

He and I began talking (he’s a mid-forties semi-retired truck driver/farm hand/handy man – but mostly now he makes a living scrapping metal), and eventually I mentioned the trip and that I was writing poetry and such, and he kinda looked at me funny. “For real?” he asked me like three times. Then he proceeded to tell me a story about the only other poet he’d known. I won’t bore you with all the details, but here’s the gist:

When he was a kid there was an old guy who once owned a farm and corner store who would read stories to the children (and oftentimes adults too). The adults all said he wrote poetry too, but my new friend didn’t remember ever hearing any. We talked til near six o’clock (I mostly listened). He was so elaborate with details of this old guy, and the whole time he spoke of it you could see this boyish smile beneath his scraggly beard. It was the coolest thing – I wish I could describe it better, but perhaps being there adds to my excitement a bit too.

Anyway this old guy (as you can tell I don’t want to say his name yet, for reasons I’ll soon share) used to sit around outside the corner shop he used to own, and read to the children. He never brought a book, though. His story ideas all came from the children. You see the children would bring him an envelope. Inside the envelope was one quarter and one word. He would keep the quarter to eat and such, then would tell the children a stort relating to whatever word was in their envelope. Some days he would speak for hours to those children.

Well I’ve met with people who knew him better, and there’s something that this old man dreamed about, that I’m going to try and make come true. So hold on to your hats, more details will be coming soon, after I look into a few things. But it looks rather wonderful. A funny (well maybe tragic depending on how you look at it) thing about these other people – they all remember him creating stories for the kids, and remember hearing that he wrote poetry, but none of them ever remember seeing or hearing any of his poetry.

Oh – just in case you’re thinking another search is on, it isn’t. His wife preceeded him in death, he had no children, and there’s no known living family. But that doesn’t mean what comes next isn’t exciting as a dickens.

Update on searching for Artie: My spirits have almost completetly deflated & forgotten the search since it’s been so long for anything new to surface. I’m still waiting to hear from Tom on when I should visit to look through the rest of his mother’s boxes of stuff.

Upon checking my email – I’ve received a nice little rejection letter from some poems I submitted a month ago. Just in case anyone is wondering. My poetic plans are to begin submitting more pieces as soon as I’m home.

P.S. – Home FYI – I’ve decided I’ll see you tomorrrrrrrow for sure.

peace.

False Advertising

Right now I feel like a scumy corporate ad agency. I said I was hiting the road this morning, but I’m writing from my couch. The reason for the delay is simple: I still haven’t slept. I was up all night doing some necessary editing, preping, and submitting of my poetry.

So tomorrow morning I’m off and my current plans are to spend about a week driving around Michigan, visiting some sites of poetic interest. I’m also hoping to visit some used book stores to search for books of Michigan poetry. I’m especially hoping to find some chapbooks of poets I’ve never heard of.

Also I spoke with Joyce and she received a few items in the mail from her auntie that we’re going to look over. I’ll probably get there Wednesday so stay tuned.

Side Notes: I watched Freedom Writers while home and it’s the first movie I’ve cried at in a long time – a must see feel good movie based on a real life everyday hero. Just how contagious can one person’s hope for others’ become? Watch this movie and see how you feel inside, and remember you’re sitting on your couch far away from the true story. I also watched a documentary called The One Percent about the growing disparity of wealth in America and it was interesting, but mediocre at best. The movie’s creator (wealthy descendent of Johnson & Johnson founder I believe) tried to let on that he really wanted to fix the problem of this disparity, but even when he portrayed himself asking the ‘tough questions,’ he was really asking them for show in neutered places like his home. The movie played more like a “I want to be perceived as caring” vesus “I’m not going to accept things are the way they are no matter the consequences.” Don’t waste your time with it – if the kid wasn’t a wealthy descendent this wouldn’t have made it out of Blockbuster’s 49 cents bin.

POETRY – I received my first rejection letter.

Time to get a good night’s – make that a good two-night’s sleep.

peace.

Submitting Poetry

I’ve been spending more time writing and revising my poetry lately, something that I completely pushed aside years ago. Finally deciding to focus on my writing has allowed me to become more serious about my poetry.

Writing poetry for me is hard to describe, it’s as if I set myself aside and write in another self. I enjoy the process incredibly, but it also comes with warnings. My mind realy appears to go somewhere elser when I write. The main reason I quit writing many years ago (including eventually throwing out almost my complete body of work) was that I couldn’t trust myself in that mind. The thing about me that I love most, my mind, is also the thing that scares me the most.

Well, I’ve decided it’s time to write again, and today I decided to take a step forward and begin submitting my poetry for publication in literary magazines. It often takes quite a while to hear back from these journals, but I’ll update all responses (rejections and submissions) here as they happen.

I may also begin working on producing and self-publishing a chapbook of my poetry, so I’ll update anything new in that department as it happens as well.

peace

Destinations

Driving for days without destinations has indeed created a sense of anxiety. I find myself turning the radio on, then off. On, then off. On, then off. My fingers tap more, my legs twitch more, and my temper is less tempered than usual. I say all of that to introduce a possible destination: Iowa City, Iowa.

I’ve never been inside the Iowa state lines, even so I do have a relationship with Iowa City. It began as a child. Sundays all of the young boys huddled around the floor TV unit at our grandparent’s house. Afterall it was football time. Picture mid 70’s to early 80’s. My cousin was a huge Cowboys fan, and I a Steelers fan (of course above and beyond we loved the Lions).

One particular Sunday only a few of us watching, I was rooting for the Steelers, when one of the elders made note that in fact we weren’t watching the Steelers – we were watching The Iowa Hawkeyes. So it goes. I became a Hawkeye fan that day. Throughout High School I began watching and rooting for the Hawkeyes football and basketball teams (Go B. J. Armstrong). Deep in my closet I still have the Hawkeyes basketball jersey I used to wear to open gym pick up games at the SAC at Western Michigan University while an undergrad.

And then there was more: In community college (backing up a bit) I took a poetry class where I fell in love with the endless possibilities of dead leaves scratching conversation on concrete walkways. I began researching writing programs and found the University of Iowa at the top of the list.

It took many years to patch the quilt of my life titled ‘lacking.’ I lacked the maturity necessary  and took my educational process for granted. I lacked the discipline to put forth the necessary effort to cultivate any love and talent that existed. I lacked the tenacity to go after what I wanted. I lacked the humility to admit that I may not know all that I think I know. I lacked many things necessary to moved closer to Iowa City.

I set aside writing for nearly ten years as I allowed life to bend me like a reed in it’s current. I set aside life for want of understanding. Today I retire the need to understand and commence to live. I feel more like myself today. So now I am re-entering (or perhaps really entering for the first time) the world of writing, and again I find myself drawn to the currently dampened Iowa City.

peace

I’ve Got A Secret

So when I was leaving Waynesburg the other day I thought I came up with a great idea that I’ll call: No maps and no main roads.

And I did just that. For as long as I coud take it I drove on backroads with no particular care for time or place, no urgency to be anywhere other than where I was. Well back to back days of backroads was enough for me. I saw a lot of backyards, empty lots, overgrown areas, etc.

Nothing new to report about the trip and nothing new to report on Artie for two days, so I guess it’s the right time to talk about one of my other motives for taking this trip. Just between us, here’s my little secret: I feel like I’m in a transition stage of life, a time to choose betwen two paths. One path is to continue taking English grad classes in Mt. Pleasant which invovles very little uncertainty. Basically I’d take classes for another year or two and complete an MA degree. The other path involves a bit more uncertainty, a bit more change, a bit more faith.

The other path involves leaving Michigan, where I’ve lived my whole life and where my family lives. It involves making a decision to dedicate my life to writing, therefore attending a university which offers an MFA degree. This often considered terminal degree would allow me a greater chance of acquiring a job dedicated to writing, such as teaching. Changing states and schools wouldn’t happen until fall 2009, but greater changes would happen more quickly. Changes such as devoting my time more to reading and writing, allowing my decisions to be made with regards to what is best for my (and others’) writing, and focusing on publishing my poetry.

As I write this I have already decided on path #2 and have begun researching MFA programs around the country. I’ve also started changing my routine a little already. Upon awakening I spend an hour reading before starting my day. I set aside specific time each day to write. I also make certain to read the poetry of others each day as well.

Since I’ve made this decision one thought resonates in my mind every day: “I feel more like myself.”

I pray we all feel more like ourselves today. peace

Mentally Adventurous

So in a week I’ll be living in a van. What route does one have to take in life for this statement to be an invitation to a meditative journey of freedom? I wonder what my old high-school guidance counselor would say. Anyway the hour is almost upon me and my mind is beginning its tricks as my thoughts have been rather ubiquitous and unorganized lately. I thought it might be fun to take a peek into my mind for a minute. Here’s what it looks like throughout the day:

1 – A lot of my time is spent in contemplation about life, love, and my relationships to friends, family, belief systems, money, emotions, etc.

2 – I have moments of deep loneliness – I think I’m pre-grieving leaving all my daily comforts (especially my friends).

3 – What are all the last minute preparations necessary to live on the road?

4 – Fears are kicking in strong – mostly fears of the unknown and fears of failure (which I think is really just the fear of what other’s will think of me if I fail).

5 – I’ve been focusing more on writing poetry, but all that comes up is love poetry – which I generally don’t write too much of. Maybe it’s all the emotional turbulence being created by preparing to leave.

6 – What about the book? For two days I haven’t thought about the book – and this is one of the reasons for the trip.

7 – And as you can imagine, these thoughts tend to travel in cycles. One really good sign is that through all of the diverse thought topics and patterns, my level of serenity has stayed relatively consistent. The gentle sways that have occurred in my serenity are due to an upswing in surfacing emotions. This is a good thing as it leads to a growing level of emotional maturity.

8 – God exists in many of these thoughts, and I’ve really been leaning on the simple prayer “God, help me to want what you want.” This, I hope, keeps selfish agendas out of the way.

That’s all for now. peace.

Today: Three By Bach

There’s three quotes from author Richard Bach that mesh today together:

“There are no mistakes. The events we bring upon ourselves, no matter how unpleasant, are necessary in order to learn what we need to learn; whatever steps we take, they’re necessary to reach the places we’ve chosen to go.” – I thought I had deciphered the mailing address on the letter, but when I took the name and address to the library to check against the phonebook’s information, there was no match. The library doesn’t keep old phonebooks, so it’s still possible that the information is correct, albeit outdated. I consider this a minor letdown and I’ve decided to start the search for Artie in Ohio by knocking on doors. Maybe, just maybe someone will know where I can find more information or direction.

 “Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.” – Over the past few days I’ve been working a lot on my atypical love poem chapbook which offers moments, reflections really, on love and lost attempts. In this state of mind I can’t help but be rejuvenated in the vibrancy of hope and electricity of love that exudes from this quote. When I believe, I remain forever hopeful.

“Can miles really separate you from friends…If you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there?” – This really warms my heart and reminds me that love isn’t dependent on physical presence, but rather on levels of intimacy that, having been developed, never dissapear. In this regard I’ll be taking all my loved ones with me.

peace.