Starting a Writing Journal

I'd love to learn to write better, but my inclination is to take a picture instead., a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

10/30/13

What does one write in a writing journal? If what I've read is to be believed, you write about anything as long as you keep writing. So here I am, writing. I'm tapping away in a Panera Bread where I have not purchased anything, but inhabit a booth like a literary freeloader. In all truth I'm afraid to write. I see people write long stories or blog posts that go on and on and on, and I wonder, "where do all of those words come from? Why can't I just write and write and write?" My brain is always striving to be concise and say as little as possible to convey the idea or image I am trying to get across.

OK, see, here it is again. I stopped, looked around, and now I'm forcing myself to tap on keys again. I have started a journal like this a few times in the past and it never gets past one entry and that entry is terrible, so self conscious, so contrived, so dadgummed forced that I never want to try it again. But here I am, tap, tap, tap. You can't get from A to B by hanging around A and complaining how hard it is. Where will that novel come from? Where will those short stories wrung from life come from full bloom? I guess by doing this writing practice thingy.

And now, almost as soon as I've started, I'm finished. Family duties call and there is no spiriting myself away to some beautiful isolated locale to create imaginary worlds and revel in what amounts to self-therapy. At least this entry got made. I've gotta be happy with that, I guess.

The Protector of Children

The Protector of Children, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

*****

"I watch for cars when the kids are going over to Sunday School."  As he says this he looks left at a car coming around the corner.  When it sees him squatting there in the mouth of the alleyway on the narrow street, it slows down.

*****

Enough to Be on Your Way

Kevin Remembered, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

Tonight I was washing dishes and listening to James Taylor while the kids showered upstairs. The song I had on rotation was “Enough to Be on Your Way.” It is a favorite of mine and never fails to bring back memories of Kevin McCarty.

I bought the CD when it came out in 1997 and was so impressed by it that I took it with me to visit Kevin in his studio apartment in Marion, Indiana. We listened to this song in particular and when it was over I noticed Kevin had a funny grin on his face. “Man,” he said, “no one can sing the “F” word and make it sound beautiful like James Taylor. “

Kevin was tall and lanky like JT and I've often imagined that if his skull hadn’t been malformed by the radiation treatments he’d received as a child for retinoblastoma he would have looked very much like him.


So long, old pal.

A Visit with St. John of San Francisco

A Visit with St. John of San Francisco, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

The melodic drone of chant
fills the immense church as
darkly translucent icons sway
in the flickering candle light.
To one side sits a glass-topped box
under a carved wooden canopy.
St. John is sleeping there,
more awake than awake.
His dry and boney hands
lay crossed over his midriff.
A bishop's crown is on his head.
A cloth covers his face,
not out of fear,
but as a function of mystery.
His experience transcends the flesh,
no longer limited to five senses,
no longer bound by space or time.
He hears prayers
whispered in earnest,
ever the pastor,
connected to all
through faith and love.
I draw near.