June 20, 2007

This is a poem I wrote last summer. It's about a creek in the forest preserve near my house:

I took a walk through the forest
That fringes on each edge the blue-eyed city
(I say blue because it's summer
And cities like the windy turn doe-eyed
and soft-touched when the air is warm)

I heard a loon begin to call a deep,
throaty bull-frog's howl that Don
called a moose-sound and went on

I saw a mother with her ducks in a row
and a fish out of water; I saw the same
signpost twice in my circle-shaped confusion

I felt the reflection of the sky
the way I imagine Peter's centurion
felt the Holy Ghost, God bless him.

Sandals in the gravel make time-tables
foolish, but thrift a weighty responsibility
for Adam and his grown-up sons
Dean, Dennis, Darvin, Doug

Tell your fruit to wait until you
feel there is time

Diary Entry #1

Yesterday Mark and I threw a surprise party for Tim and Hannah at the same time. Their birthdays were both this week. It was the most ridiculous method of surprise ever. It involved my car "breaking down" and Tim sitting by himself at a restaurant for almost 40 minutes, and actually was really stressful and depressing. Also, Hannah was sort of sick the whole time. But we were worried it wasn't going to work, and it went off without a hitch. So... mixed feelings. But when we got to the party a LOT of people were there, and Hannah definitely started feeling better, so I think it was worth it.

I'm leaving for the first frisbee game of the spring today—actually it's the second for me, but the first didn't count, since I wasn't prepared and had to play barefoot in skinny pants. The weather looks a lot more cooperative than they said it would be. Cold, though.

On the stereo this morning: Wilco, "A Ghost Is Born"
On the stereo last night: Public Enemy, "It Takes A Nation Of Millions"

Apprehension & Anxiety (most likely this is just part one on the subject)

I'm calling this blog The Day Shift because I work the day shift, and I need something productive to do while in between calls here at the cubicle. (also because of the Bob Dylan song that I think of every time I go to work)

I am calling this post Apprehension & Anxiety because I'm nervous that I might start emoting inappropriately. I've always had a feeling of ... curiosity about blogging, because I've read some terrible ones. They're gushing and sighing, flying wildly about in their imaginations, always with themselves at the center. But I've read some good ones, too. Genuinely thoughtful or thought-provoking, or--even better--funny. And I've written my fair share of terrible ones and decent ones, as well, just in convenient venues.

In other words, I am still feeling out the purpose of this very wide open space, and every keystroke narrows it exponentially. But I'm suspecting at a certain point the keystrokes will cease to narrow it and, through force of volume or quantity, start expanding and enriching the space. That's a hope.

...

(The next day)

And then the internet offers this, just as a little validation:

"Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.'"

-Kurt Vonnegut

So, not so apprehensive anymore. Maybe a little emoting would do somebody else some good.

Welcom to my blogd!