Here is a photo I took just to remind myself of simpler times.
Well, this is the life of a writer. Get a little ahead, learn a few things, put some real effort into something, and really feel good about yourself, and then a week later wonder why you don’t phone up the local mental hospital to see if they have a bed for you. Well, to be honest it isn’t that bad. I find it hard sometimes, especially at this time of the year where there is little work in the Stage Hand business (my day job) and not much to do. I have been writing quite a bit and I sort of feel like I am growing as a writer, but still there are difficult times now and then. Today I worked on a poem in Iambic Pentameter, and I don’t know if I completely screwed it up or not. I also did a bit of investing on some marketing for my book, “Inching Back to Sane” which I hope is going to pay off, though there is no way really to tell. I think the only thing I can count on is that I have to look at the long term, how things go after years. I always had the idea of getting rich quick, with little effort. Now though, I am starting to see that perhaps yes, one day I will have more money than I need, but I may be 78 at the time and on my last lung. I’m hoping it won’t be that bad, but I don’t think I will be able to live the life of leisure I once thought would be available to me. I have had times when I have had sums of money, even made a lot and still had a lot coming in, but it ran through my fingers like sand. Cars, motorcycles, satellite dishes, CB radios, Satellite radio for my car, video games. The list didn’t seem to end. Lately I have been reading “Don Quixote” on the recommendation of my cousin’s wife, and I have never gotten so much enjoyment out of something that cost me nothing. I still have to blow all kinds of cash on all kinds of crap, but for one or two hours a day I am lost in this imaginary world of the Knight of the Rueful figure. The novel is absolutely brilliant, and I plan to read more extremely long books when I am done it. I have my eye on an Ayn Rand novel that I want to get through next, I really enjoy her work, though some of my activist friends might take exception to that. Anyhow, once again, today’s poem is below. If you enjoy it at all, please let me know, I really enjoy getting feedback from my readers.
Here is the skyline of Edmonton, my beautiful home city
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS
I want to learn of all the things you knew
Because I still don’t think that it was true
That you could love a simple guy like me
I want to see what inside me you see
You can’t just go and say that I was yours
And never let me pass through all those doors
The ones your father built for you with cash
Before he knew we kept our own small stash
Control for him was what it was all about
It never was our love that was in doubt
I may not have been rich like other guys
But I worked hard, loved you and had blue eyes
I worked as hard as any guy you knew
There was no question if my love was true
Together we could have made it alone
We could have had a happy little home
Then things went bad and I ran away
I did come back but had no words to say
Why I left someone beautiful as you
Whose smile was such an awesome thing to view
The truth was that I scared even myself
And life was like the inner ring of hell
I was insane, no other way to say
Why I left you on that last awful day
And now I spend each day and night alone
Money can buy a house but not a home
How I dreamed of us having our own son
Loving you and our child us three as one
But we make our choices take our chances
That is the way that human romance is
I wish you all the best life has to give
With you or not I will learn to live on
Leif Gregersen