Words are My Life

More than ever in my entire life I am dependent on words to act as pillars of the foundation of everything I believe to be good and perfect: my family. Through graduate school I idolized words that I thought would come to me on a whim, and I hoped those words would be in the right order. I know that now to be a horribly false and young idea. I didn't realize that I was a fisherman with an empty net that I carelessly cast into the water randomly or just left out to sea, as it brought in a few fish, some pretty, many dead, but most too smart to come near. I paid no heed, no attention, and certainly no labor. Ahhh how I wish I had the ocean out my writing window at this moment. I would write ten thousand words.

Technology is great, and the statistics related to this blog show I have just about about 200 visitors in two days. When I began I figured, with some intense mathematical equations of course, that by now I would have had 5-7 visitors. So I am surprised and grateful. It's up to me now to keep visitors coming back to my page, and as importantly for them to want to share it with their friends. I will post to this blog Monday through Friday before 10am. Therefore any one granting me the presence of their attention can rely on continuity.

What I have to offer is all that is in me. I hope that is an enormous amount, knowing full well that sometimes it will be a sub par amount, which I will no doubt want to throw the TV, computer, toaster oven, and the blender out the window. But I won't. I will cut deeper into myself and this life and give more. After all I am learning very quickly, though awfully late in life, that all we have to give each other is ourselves. Beautiful Holly gives herself completely to me everyday. How can I not give back to the world? How can I ever give her enough? I will fail at all of this, even if this becomes a success, I can not give to the world what it deserves.

On a lighter note I love that the school bus comes right to my driveway. Aidan and Owen watch cartoons after breakfast until the bus literally shows up. With coffee in hand we kiss and hug and wave from the front porch. The simple things sometimes are the best things.

Last night I met a great and friendly man, Tim Clancy, I covered a story for hopatcong.patch.com in which Mr. Clancy received the "You Make a Difference" award from the town for discovering and helping to rid Lake Hopatcong of the water chestnut plant. The plant is highly invasive and destroys ecosystems in it's wake. That story should post to patch later this evening. Also, if you are local, check out kneedeep.org. This is the organization, along with Mr. Clancy that did the volunteer work to help save the lake. Tim was red faced and bearded, not sure how this made him even more likable, but he's a good man regardless and a great pleasure to meet with.

Beautiful Holly is networking our ideas of this venture in the other room. Juliana Skye is doing her best to offer no peace to us both. I want to kiss beautiful Holly every where. I feel like a thief that stole Juliana Skye from the heavens. If there are great women behind great men I should be twice as great. My boys are my foot soldiers, though far from ready for any battle. I explode with love right now. Good morning world. Words are my life. Below is the fruit of this mornings writing session.

We are left for dead on the sands of this heat wave.

They flipped us over the side of the boat.

We had to swim here, to the shore of the hourglass.

They said wait for him, he will come with everything and nothing.

We do not know if he is hawk or crow, if he carries

scripture, dagger, or songs of empty water for the nightingale.

We are blind men, this island is an elegy to the old dream.

There is no comfort and the cloisters are empty.

We are the suicide of our people, the watcher has abandoned us,

neither gold coins, holy water, wafer, or rain will bring him.

We suffer, he eats lavish fruit, he laughs loudly, we can not hear him,

we scream fire, he is cold, we run and the sand sinks us further.

I am the stranger, I stand and walk back to the sea, the cynical night

is a dream, the sand has fallen, I'm taking back the sea.