Tuesday, December 30, 2014
I have been a fallen away confessor. It's true, and I can't recall how many weeks have passed since my last Confession Tuesday or any other day for that matter.
So, I come to you tonight repentant and I confess a little nonchalant. You see, the time off work for the Christmas holiday and the soon to be New Year holiday is cramping my serious style.
I confess that over Christmas I read leasurly and wrote the same way. Some time I write with abandonment but not over the holiday. And I admit that I enjoyed the more laid back approach that I took. I'm pretty much ready for more of that over New Year's break.
I confess that I love getting reading and writing related materials in the mail. New poetry book recently that I mentioned in my last post. New Poet's and Writer's Magazine and like two days later the latest copy of The Writer's Chronicle. I could be really happy if I only got this sort of stuff in the mail instead of bills. I know, who wouldn't. I get so excited when Poet's and Writer's is in the mailbox I do cartwheels into the house with it. I must also confess that I sometime exaggerate my gymnastic capabilities. I think going up the walk with the magazine in had I may have once tripped and fell forward.
My wife and I went to the half price book store tonight after work. Had a gift card and there was a 20% off sale. I got three items and still have money left on the card. I confess that made the trip (insert a synonym for awesome here). Couple of years ago - maybe it was last year I forget, but I gave up "that word" for lent (among other things) and I have to say that it has crept back into my vocabulary at an alarming rate. Anyway, it's starting to annoy me again. Maybe this should be a resolution for 2015 - to put the word to rest again. Maybe I should make up my own replacement word. Humm.... something to to think about.
Well, I confess I'm confessed out, but I will be back next week, Promise!
Friday, December 26, 2014
From the poem I Live At The Bottom of the Earth
Last night the full moon in perigee
rose, a coin so bright
it could buy back any sorrow.
By Rachel Dacus.