Confession Tuesday - Time Edition

Yes, it's that time again. Another Tuesday and here i am at the confessional.  Let's hurry along, I'm not sure how much time I have.


Dear Reader:  It's been another whole week and a whole bunch of emotion since my last confession.


One way or another time has been doing a number on me. I must confess that I have never considered time to be my friend. When I was young it seemed like time would drag on in an eternally slow crawl.  As a kid I was oh so anxious to grow up and decried the cruelty of how long my childhood was taking. 


Somewhere between then and now something changed and time began to move with  breakneck speed.  Like the cautious adage, it to good to be careful what one wishes for. I grew up and have been fighting time every since. Time seems to inform a lot of what I write about.  I confess that too often time creeps into my poetry riding the backs of other topics it will almost always find safe passage past my internal censor. This past week especially, I've thought a lot about time.


The past has been just one aspect of this time obsession.  It has been a series of recent events that has reminded me all too well of a part of my childhood that I was anxious to leave behind.  I confess that I was not prepared and may never be prepared to deal with the combined feelings of anger and hurt that I am reminded of.  This is something I had fairly well buried, walled off and stepped back from.


The surprise recurrence of these feelings manifests itself in several ways.  Anxiety, lower self-esteem, and anger are just a few of the readily identifiable ways it has impacted me. I confess that a big part of the frustration is that  I seemed unable to control how any of this unfolded. 


I confess that this resurgence of residual feelings from childhood at this time clearly means that growing up is not an escape route.  Two other things that have plagued me because of this, battling to keep writing recently from sounding like teenage angst, and speculating every day how old I will live to be.  Both which seem to fail the test of proactive ways to spend time.


But enough of this! Tonight is the All-Star game.  I'm ready for the National League to win! 


May each of you have a winning week too!

Wanted - A Radio Station in Kasnas City

Seriously folks, when KUDL 98.1 disappeared from the radio airways early this year - a long tradition of adult contemporary music was lost and the station became 99.7 THE POINT[less] KC lost more then a radio station... it lost a cross-generational entertainment media. What has taken the place of KUDL is a variety of no-name, and lesser-name performers that may or may not be remembered 5 - 10 years  I've tried The Point[less] several times since the change over and  it hasn't gotten any better. We NEED a new station with the old format that was big name music spanning the 1970's through 1990's & contemporary hits as well.

Somebody... anybody - are listening?

Journal Bits

I'm overdue for my Journal bits post, so here goes...

• June 23 - "you asked how I felt/about the aggregate-/I tell you that is quite a sum/a lot of cookies/I feel overwhelmed"
• June 25 - "clouds speak endlessly in a limited vocabulary"
• June 28 -"I'm stuck at 22 likes on my Facebook writers page - three away from what I need."
• June 29 -"it's my desire to scream right now..."
• July 1 - "I would like to have gone to First Friday at the Crossroads but the heat is oppressive."
• July 3 - "It is the summer of discontent/thick with verbiage that subsides/rolling back in white foam/a quiet lace that always predicts /another round of roaring waves."
• July 6 - "...I have last weeks register receipts/for no particular reason..."
• July 8 - "Lunch with an untruth/gimme a stiff drink/should have ordered takeout..."

Alone

Against a wall wet with past
she leans- the musty memory
soaks her cloak    and lingers-
days to nights to days
the acherontics shuffles between
them and there is no deviation
nothing tangible to separate
one from the other -
darkness like the husk
of a walnut shell    encases her.
Who will crack the shell?
Can anyone?

2011 © Michael A. Wells

photo credit -  Amanda Slater


Magpie Tales 72 - Poem untitled

Wheat Field with Rising Sun, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

Torrents of amber and goldenrod
highlights wave to the wind
under blistered sky

grasshoppers fleeing
ahead of us the field
ripe for a day of toil

tomorrow it will be
combines and us
against the fever

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 72

Confession Tuesday - Strange Correlation Edition.

Tuesday again. It seems like only yesterday. So let's get going to the confessional.

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession and a weekend of minor explosions in the neighborhood followed by barking. Oh the joys of the 4th of July.

Today, when I returned home from work,  I found my copy of She Returns to the Floating World  by Jeannine Hall Gailey waiting for me in the mail. This was a treat because I had earlier received an e-mail rejection letter so I had a little good to compensate for the bad.

When I went to Duotrope (which I use as a submission tracker) and reported my latest rejection the control panel has a percentage figure of your acceptances in the last 12 months. Following my % number was the following... Congratulations! Your overall acceptance ratio is higher than the average for users who have submitted to the same markets. I confess this amazes me more then it encourages me. And then my mind began to correlate writing to baseball. In baseball a hitter who is batting .300 is someone who reaches base safely roughly three out of every ten times they come to the plate. Such a batting average is considered above average. A good player. Assuming he has other skills, defensive, power or speed, he may be better than good. But flip this around and think about it... that same player fails 7 out of every 10 times he comes to the plate. It almost seems absurd to think that someone who fails 7 out of 10 times is a success, but in baseball, it is just that! Writing it seems is quite the same. I confess it may be in part that chase... that battle with the odds that I actually like.

Well, it’s late and I want to read some tonight in my new book before I hit the sack.  Have a good week.

Reflection on the 4th of July

July 4th is an air born holiday. Fireworks like fireflies dot the night sky and the smell of sulfur permeates the air, strong enough at times to get choked up.

It's a day in which we will often go outside into that summer heat and start the grill and burn burgers and brats, etc. and  hep our plats and dig in. A day families gather and there are so many smells on this day.

Less tangible but more important are the freedoms that we have. Freedoms that have come and continue to be protected at a very high price.

The freedom to express ourselves creativity in all forms of art. The freedom of the press... perhaps the most critical cornerstone of the success of our democracy.

In many places around the world people are not free to practice journalism without fear for their families or themselves.  A free press is a paramount checks and balance to democracy. It's something to celebrate and not take for granted.