I have been betrayed myself. A conspiracy was formed against me.
I'm not bitter, I am hurt. I wonder what I could have done to make
a difference, but nothing comes to mind. I did not deserve these cuts
or this stress. I have tried to get myself--my mind--off these negative
thoughts by writing--a story I have been trying to write for a year or
two and never finding time to write. I have to finish it before I go. I am
ready to go, but I will finish it first. I owe that to myself. To prove I am
a writer. Maybe not a very good writer, just a writer. Not Hemingway,
Capote--not a poet or a story teller, just a hack who liked to write.
Now I have time. Waiting to be evicted and starve to death, I have time.
Get this done and pass it on. Let the next one who finds it decide what
it's worth and either publish it or burn it with their tongs of fire. I will rest
knowing it was done.
WPCannon
1435
31 March 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
One Day-Day One
What is promised? Nothing, nothing and no one is promised.
I find that out everyday, I keep my eyes open and I listen to
the souls of others straining for their freedom of expression.
Some times, on certain dyas and I can't predict when-I am
unprepared for the expressions and I am floored by them.
I am floored now. I am barley able to speak or listen. I am and
have been harmed by the hidden, lost and angry expressions that
I have come by and am unable to predict. A combination of Mother's
and Father's genes and chromosomes that bind my spirit, my soul
and my body together and make me tick. Sometimes the ticking is
too loud. And like now, the ticking is barely audible. The soul in me
and my spirit are brused, battered and sore from the latest loud ticking.
I am more than humbled and scared to death of what I could do to myself.
Without some peace-I am nothing. I am powerless without my peace of mind
and when it is shattered, I fall hard in to a pit of loneliness and depression.
I am looking up from inside there now. I am possessed by loneliness and fear
and all by myself, I have to climb out of here and the climb is long-I am very,
very deep and I am counting the options and there seems to be only two.
The first and the one I lean on in times like these is prayer. I have my God.
I am leaning on our Lord and savior to save me and make me whole again.
Please, God, I pray, make me whole and give me peace and let that peace put
joy back into my life. I have only myself to blame for being in this pit, but alone
I will never find myself a way out. I have to have God. I have to put my will behind me,
His will before me and be wise and willing enough to follow. That is where I am right
now. I am not letting the second option be known although it creeps into my mind
so often that I am beginning to see some merits and embracing it's logic as it
may pertain to my life. Forgive me God, for I know it is a sin to wish death upon
oneself-I can't help myself.
I put myself here by being unaware of myself and my true feelings. I am so easily
led down into this place. I am glad to have this outlet, this ability to write.
It saves my life (to write) and puts life into a proper prospective. Thank
you so much Jesus for dying for me and saving my life so many times by giving me
this ability and this insight into my life. I am and will forever be in your debt.
Amen.
WPCannon
1421
23March2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Speed Of The Sound...
"Lift Up Our Hearts With A Smile"
---Ziggy Marley
The best things about life often pass me by.
I'm not alive in some sense of the word.
I get up everyday and I go about my day,
but I am alone.
And that's OK, that's alright--God made me that way.
To be alone for me is good. For me.
Not for everybody. I see the couples and I feel lonely,
and more alone.
Is the world ready for another day with me in it?
Am I to be welcomed and enjoy this day?
Yes, I am. I have some things to do today and tonight,
with ones I love, all alone.
I am alone writing this. I could not see this if I were not alone.
I have to be alone to be comfortable and free to think. And so,
all alone is necessary for me to be free and for
me to be able to see.
God made me all alone and has intend's for me to be alone and free.
And so, I am and destined to remain this way.
I always feel my aloneness and wonder what I missed.
(The kindness and intimacy of another soul)
Love I am so free to give away, will it ever be returned?
To me that sadness of being alone--
Living, dying alone and being alone is my God's will.
For me to live alone.
All of the lessons I learn along the way will forever die too,
unless I share them with you.
All alone I sit here and write into this box--all alone--
I have a place to share the loneliness.
WPCannon
1001
19March2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Inquiry Letter
Dear Father Damien--
I am fifty-one years old and I have been hearing a call to serve our Lord, Jesus Christ, for all of the years of my life. I am just now, during this Lenten season, beginning to heed the one truth I have known all of my life. I feel drawn to this life not to escape, but to enter into a world where I can do more good. I seek the solitude, peace and love of the Lord in my life everyday. I need to walk with God everyday. Prayer and meditation are an escape now, but I am longing to have that as part of my routine and not have to simply "find time" to be closer to God.
I am not trained in any meaningful vocation. I work as a public safety dispatcher at a very small town's police department. I also work for our Senior Citizen's Center, as a van driver. I volunteer at our public library and I am actively involved with the friends of the library and the library board. I am active in our parish, St Cecilia, as a lector. Our parish priest, Fr. John Coghlin, is not aware of my desire for a monastic life, but I am planning to send him, along with our Archbishop, Thomas Rodi, a copy of this letter.
I have not talked to my Father, Brother or Sisters about this decision. I have let some friends know and the love, prayers and support I am receiving, has been amazing. I am, and continue to be, so very blessed in my life and I only want to spend the rest of my life returning the prayers and support I have received from the wonderful people I have known.
My work ethic is strong. I am a faithful and reliable worker and will serve the community in any way I am needed. I feel like a life of service is all I have to give. I am interested in the monastery as a permanent retreat, to give God my undivided attention and put my faith in action.
I fancy myself a writer, a poet and i have given these last eighteen years of my life over to sobriety. I have tried to write every day, of those years and about how and why I have come to believe God saved me from myself. I had a spiritual awakening at the treatment center I was in, in 1992. A warmth and peace, like I was being anointed, spread over me and my faith was reawakened. I don't know that I will make the monastery my home for the rest of my life, but I do feel I am being drawn there. My heart and mind are open and after all of these years, I am ready to seek fulfillment.
Please feel free to contact me. I am not a wealthy man. I have some, minor debts I am working to clear up. I am looking forward to learning more. My prayers will be focused on the future and the vocation I am seeking to find.
Thank you for your kindness--Peace&Love be with you!
William
I am fifty-one years old and I have been hearing a call to serve our Lord, Jesus Christ, for all of the years of my life. I am just now, during this Lenten season, beginning to heed the one truth I have known all of my life. I feel drawn to this life not to escape, but to enter into a world where I can do more good. I seek the solitude, peace and love of the Lord in my life everyday. I need to walk with God everyday. Prayer and meditation are an escape now, but I am longing to have that as part of my routine and not have to simply "find time" to be closer to God.
I am not trained in any meaningful vocation. I work as a public safety dispatcher at a very small town's police department. I also work for our Senior Citizen's Center, as a van driver. I volunteer at our public library and I am actively involved with the friends of the library and the library board. I am active in our parish, St Cecilia, as a lector. Our parish priest, Fr. John Coghlin, is not aware of my desire for a monastic life, but I am planning to send him, along with our Archbishop, Thomas Rodi, a copy of this letter.
I have not talked to my Father, Brother or Sisters about this decision. I have let some friends know and the love, prayers and support I am receiving, has been amazing. I am, and continue to be, so very blessed in my life and I only want to spend the rest of my life returning the prayers and support I have received from the wonderful people I have known.
My work ethic is strong. I am a faithful and reliable worker and will serve the community in any way I am needed. I feel like a life of service is all I have to give. I am interested in the monastery as a permanent retreat, to give God my undivided attention and put my faith in action.
I fancy myself a writer, a poet and i have given these last eighteen years of my life over to sobriety. I have tried to write every day, of those years and about how and why I have come to believe God saved me from myself. I had a spiritual awakening at the treatment center I was in, in 1992. A warmth and peace, like I was being anointed, spread over me and my faith was reawakened. I don't know that I will make the monastery my home for the rest of my life, but I do feel I am being drawn there. My heart and mind are open and after all of these years, I am ready to seek fulfillment.
Please feel free to contact me. I am not a wealthy man. I have some, minor debts I am working to clear up. I am looking forward to learning more. My prayers will be focused on the future and the vocation I am seeking to find.
Thank you for your kindness--Peace&Love be with you!
William
St Patrick's Day Eve
I am a Patrick. I was named after the first William Patrick, my Father,
who was named after the Saint, Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland.
My Grandmother, God Rest Her Soul, was first generation American.
Her Mother, Brigid McCarthy, was from the Emerald Isle. She came here,
to America when she was twelve and settled in or near, Boston, MA.
That is where my Grandfather, Henry Cannon found his Mary.
Henry was a sailor and as sailors tend to do, he was want to fall in love-
in every port he was fortunate enough to visit. A sailor's love is always in
season, for they know not they're fate or they're future, so get it while
you can is often their creed. Henry was not out for a fling. And
when he found his Mary, he knew he had found his future Mrs. Cannon.
He somehow wooed her away from her family in Boston and convinced
her to travel with him to the other end of the country. A place Mary would
forever refer to as the "wilderness"--Mount Vernon, Alabama.
Together they carved out a place and started a family. Many other Cannon's--
Irish immigrants themselves, had settled in Mount Vernon.
A good Catholic bunch, they flourished and brought forth many offspring
to carry on the name. Henry was the first to
carry on his father's name was actually born in Boston. The next was my father,
William Patrick, then Brigid and the last child, a son, was Uncle Neal.
Only Brigid and my Father survive to this day and neither of them live in Mount Vernon.
They, like many others of theirs and subsequent generations have gone. They left
for greener pastures and brighter futures in places other than this wilderness I
call home.
My father moved our family away from here in 1971, a year after his mother, Mary,
had passed away. Dada, as we called her, was on her way into mass at St Cecilia's
on Sunday morning. She fell backwards down the front steps of the church
and broke her hip. She never recovered and died a few weeks later. My father was on
a new job in Washington, D.C., his first day on the new job, when he got the news of his
mother's death and he rushed back here to bury her. We were all over come with grief.
Her loss meant we were all the lesser, I was only eleven years old, but I knew we had lost
more than just a grandmother, we had lost a part of our very own souls. Dada kept us
on the right path and in church. Without her, who knows what heathen we would have
become.
At this time of year--every year--I am reminded of the Irish in me. I know our patron saint,
Patrick, would be proud of the Cannon and McCarthy clans for having some semblance of dignity remaining. I am the last Cannon living here in Mount Vernon though. There are many near by, but doubt any of them will ever return here to live. The lands on which my Grandparents
lived and raised their family is in danger of being sold off and that will mean
an end to the promised land as I have always known it. I own nothing here and likely,
never will. I squandered my most productive years and have no future to speak of.
I work everyday and have nothing to show for my labors. I rent a property that will more
than likely be sold out from under me at anytime.
My greatest ambition in life is to become a monk, live a monastic life for the rest of my life
and die in peace and harmony with God. I will have to spend the rest of my life anyway,
begging for forgiveness for wrecking his temple. I feel like I deserve no better life for
myself and have come to believe, that God is calling me. For I am alone, but not alone,
I have Christ in my life and that ought to be good enough for me. Is this why God has
kept me all alone? I have come to believe it is. I am praying to the angels and the saints
to guide me down the right path and I am sure they are.
I have began the process of becoming a Benedictine. A letter of inquiry has been written and sent to the monastery in Oxford, MI. I will also send a copy of that same letter to my parish priest here at St Cecilia and to the Archbishop of the diocese of Mobile. From there, this is all be left in God's hands and the hands of the men who serve God. I have some debts I will have to clear up, but other than that, I have no other obligations to anyone other than
myself and my God.
who was named after the Saint, Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland.
My Grandmother, God Rest Her Soul, was first generation American.
Her Mother, Brigid McCarthy, was from the Emerald Isle. She came here,
to America when she was twelve and settled in or near, Boston, MA.
That is where my Grandfather, Henry Cannon found his Mary.
Henry was a sailor and as sailors tend to do, he was want to fall in love-
in every port he was fortunate enough to visit. A sailor's love is always in
season, for they know not they're fate or they're future, so get it while
you can is often their creed. Henry was not out for a fling. And
when he found his Mary, he knew he had found his future Mrs. Cannon.
He somehow wooed her away from her family in Boston and convinced
her to travel with him to the other end of the country. A place Mary would
forever refer to as the "wilderness"--Mount Vernon, Alabama.
Together they carved out a place and started a family. Many other Cannon's--
Irish immigrants themselves, had settled in Mount Vernon.
A good Catholic bunch, they flourished and brought forth many offspring
to carry on the name. Henry was the first to
carry on his father's name was actually born in Boston. The next was my father,
William Patrick, then Brigid and the last child, a son, was Uncle Neal.
Only Brigid and my Father survive to this day and neither of them live in Mount Vernon.
They, like many others of theirs and subsequent generations have gone. They left
for greener pastures and brighter futures in places other than this wilderness I
call home.
My father moved our family away from here in 1971, a year after his mother, Mary,
had passed away. Dada, as we called her, was on her way into mass at St Cecilia's
on Sunday morning. She fell backwards down the front steps of the church
and broke her hip. She never recovered and died a few weeks later. My father was on
a new job in Washington, D.C., his first day on the new job, when he got the news of his
mother's death and he rushed back here to bury her. We were all over come with grief.
Her loss meant we were all the lesser, I was only eleven years old, but I knew we had lost
more than just a grandmother, we had lost a part of our very own souls. Dada kept us
on the right path and in church. Without her, who knows what heathen we would have
become.
At this time of year--every year--I am reminded of the Irish in me. I know our patron saint,
Patrick, would be proud of the Cannon and McCarthy clans for having some semblance of dignity remaining. I am the last Cannon living here in Mount Vernon though. There are many near by, but doubt any of them will ever return here to live. The lands on which my Grandparents
lived and raised their family is in danger of being sold off and that will mean
an end to the promised land as I have always known it. I own nothing here and likely,
never will. I squandered my most productive years and have no future to speak of.
I work everyday and have nothing to show for my labors. I rent a property that will more
than likely be sold out from under me at anytime.
My greatest ambition in life is to become a monk, live a monastic life for the rest of my life
and die in peace and harmony with God. I will have to spend the rest of my life anyway,
begging for forgiveness for wrecking his temple. I feel like I deserve no better life for
myself and have come to believe, that God is calling me. For I am alone, but not alone,
I have Christ in my life and that ought to be good enough for me. Is this why God has
kept me all alone? I have come to believe it is. I am praying to the angels and the saints
to guide me down the right path and I am sure they are.
I have began the process of becoming a Benedictine. A letter of inquiry has been written and sent to the monastery in Oxford, MI. I will also send a copy of that same letter to my parish priest here at St Cecilia and to the Archbishop of the diocese of Mobile. From there, this is all be left in God's hands and the hands of the men who serve God. I have some debts I will have to clear up, but other than that, I have no other obligations to anyone other than
myself and my God.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Mithril and Being Out
The night, last night, could have been better. I invited two people to spend the evening with me-
to see Mithril and enjoy their music with me, but I was roundly rejected. I ought to be used to that by now. I seem to simply refuse to believe it will happen again and I dive right in for more of the same. When will I learn?
I went on my own. I met a cousin and his wife there and we enjoyed the Celtic; "Here Comes St Patrick's Day" show. I had not seen Mithril, but had always heard great things about them. I was not disappointed. Their show is spot on and full of energy. I was thrilled to be there and I was also thrilled to hear their special guest, Adrian Duncan. He is from Halifax, Nova Scotia. His music and the talk he gave made me want to visit the place and hear more about it.
The Laidlaw Performing Arts center on the campus of the University of South Alabama was a pleasure and a delight as well. My first time there too last night. It was full of people who, like Vic, Donna and I were thrilled to have found our way there to see the show. Not one of the Mithril four missed a beat that I could tell. Being of Irish heritage, I was not at all disappointed in the way the music was performed or presented and that may be because I am none the wiser, or because i was so starved for the live, acoustic sounds I enjoyed on that stage last night. The uniqueness of the experience with Adrian Duncan, made the night special and everyone in town who was not there last night missed out on a very special show.
My aloneness is my own fault. I blame myself for the undesirable nature I have created for myself. I have to believe that I am to blame. How could anyone else be? I am at the time in my life where my aloneness is not acceptable to me. I am about to go on this journey alone into my
own soul to try to figure out where in this God Almighty world I am supposed to be. I had hoped that would be with someone, but I am beginning to believe I am not suited to live with another soul. I am supposed to be alone and so, I am.
to see Mithril and enjoy their music with me, but I was roundly rejected. I ought to be used to that by now. I seem to simply refuse to believe it will happen again and I dive right in for more of the same. When will I learn?
I went on my own. I met a cousin and his wife there and we enjoyed the Celtic; "Here Comes St Patrick's Day" show. I had not seen Mithril, but had always heard great things about them. I was not disappointed. Their show is spot on and full of energy. I was thrilled to be there and I was also thrilled to hear their special guest, Adrian Duncan. He is from Halifax, Nova Scotia. His music and the talk he gave made me want to visit the place and hear more about it.
The Laidlaw Performing Arts center on the campus of the University of South Alabama was a pleasure and a delight as well. My first time there too last night. It was full of people who, like Vic, Donna and I were thrilled to have found our way there to see the show. Not one of the Mithril four missed a beat that I could tell. Being of Irish heritage, I was not at all disappointed in the way the music was performed or presented and that may be because I am none the wiser, or because i was so starved for the live, acoustic sounds I enjoyed on that stage last night. The uniqueness of the experience with Adrian Duncan, made the night special and everyone in town who was not there last night missed out on a very special show.
My aloneness is my own fault. I blame myself for the undesirable nature I have created for myself. I have to believe that I am to blame. How could anyone else be? I am at the time in my life where my aloneness is not acceptable to me. I am about to go on this journey alone into my
own soul to try to figure out where in this God Almighty world I am supposed to be. I had hoped that would be with someone, but I am beginning to believe I am not suited to live with another soul. I am supposed to be alone and so, I am.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Benedictine
I am hearing a call. A call I have heard for years to serve God. A call to walk away
from the secular life and embrace the monastic life. I have began with a letter of
inquiry to the order of Benedictine monks at St. Benedict Monastery. The first
step is taken. I will see and I am looking forward to what will happen next. This
has been in the back of my mind for many years and I am only now seeing the way
clear.
I was driving the Greyhound bus from Mobile to New Orleans. I had a young lady on
the very front seat across from me talking to me about her young life and in talking
to her about my older life, I heard her say the words that have put me on this path.
All of those years ago-and I have come to believe she may have been an angel sent there
to save me from myself. In those few hours, our conversation saved me by opening my
eyes. So young, just a hippie chick moving around the country from youth hostel to youth
hostel, seeing the country-deciding where she was supposed to be-she was saving lives
all along the way.
What she said to me that day was so simple:
Just before she left me there in the Big Easy, she said; "...so,you like your things!"
I must have been letting her know how many things i had and how proud I was of myself for acquiring these things and how that was my measure of success. I was pleased with myself too when i learned this and then she spoiled my glow by making that one simple statement that for all of these years has haunted me and my success or lack there of. Nothing I have done or acquired since that day, has meant a thing to me. I am grateful to her for pointing out to me how meaningless my life has been. I am never going to forget her or that bus ride, the rest of my life has to be dedicated to her revelation to me on that fateful day.
Last night I looked into the Benedictine order on line. I found their monastery in Oxford,
Michigan and i am taking the first step-a letter of inquiry. From there, I wait, keep praying and wait for the brothers there to call on me and make the next step. I feel like I am destined. God is calling-has been calling and I am finally ready to answer.
from the secular life and embrace the monastic life. I have began with a letter of
inquiry to the order of Benedictine monks at St. Benedict Monastery. The first
step is taken. I will see and I am looking forward to what will happen next. This
has been in the back of my mind for many years and I am only now seeing the way
clear.
I was driving the Greyhound bus from Mobile to New Orleans. I had a young lady on
the very front seat across from me talking to me about her young life and in talking
to her about my older life, I heard her say the words that have put me on this path.
All of those years ago-and I have come to believe she may have been an angel sent there
to save me from myself. In those few hours, our conversation saved me by opening my
eyes. So young, just a hippie chick moving around the country from youth hostel to youth
hostel, seeing the country-deciding where she was supposed to be-she was saving lives
all along the way.
What she said to me that day was so simple:
Just before she left me there in the Big Easy, she said; "...so,you like your things!"
I must have been letting her know how many things i had and how proud I was of myself for acquiring these things and how that was my measure of success. I was pleased with myself too when i learned this and then she spoiled my glow by making that one simple statement that for all of these years has haunted me and my success or lack there of. Nothing I have done or acquired since that day, has meant a thing to me. I am grateful to her for pointing out to me how meaningless my life has been. I am never going to forget her or that bus ride, the rest of my life has to be dedicated to her revelation to me on that fateful day.
Last night I looked into the Benedictine order on line. I found their monastery in Oxford,
Michigan and i am taking the first step-a letter of inquiry. From there, I wait, keep praying and wait for the brothers there to call on me and make the next step. I feel like I am destined. God is calling-has been calling and I am finally ready to answer.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Starting and Ending
Beginning and ending every day alone is torture sometimes.
And then there are the days I would not take a thing in world for
days like today. I am not sure this day is going to be one of those days.
I just know that it is starting out as one. I had a great Sunday, but today is Monday.
Yesterday was grand. I got to see the ones I care most about in this world
and one of them shined there ever loving light on me. Showed me a ray of hope for the
future. At two in the morning, with nothing better to do, it feels good to have
hope. I made myself a promise, not to give up, no matter what, never give up.
The depression is very real and a very powerful force in my life that I am fortunately
able to recognise and deal with without the use of drugs. I tried the drug
route and convinced myself that it does not work for me. I am too involved and the
Zoloft made me feel nothing and I had rather have the pain. Nothing is nothing and
nothing hurts much more than the pain of past memories of failures. I hate to dwell
on the past and dwell on the past I am prone to do, but I need the reminder of past
failures. I am in need of the splendid, painful recalls I possess for failures. Without
which I would be destined to repeat the trips and falls into the pitfalls of my past.
Still the curse is that I am depressed too, by my past inequities. And by my loneliness
know that i am forever destined to be lonely. I see all of the happy couples, knowing that
I will never be one of them. I am not giving up on finding the right one for my heart, but it will have to be a right one, one that I see as right and not one simply for the connivance of a
companion. I want one I can get excited about making love to. One who is interested in
me and I in her. One who reads and is read; a writer, a poet, a passionate woman full of
love and compassion. She is out there waiting to find me and I her. We are destined for one another, the same way William was destined for Addie. They were two, a perfect pair, who
met by chance and stayed together for the rest of their lives. They never married and were
completed by one another, completely in love and each a perfect complement to the other.
I have been trying to force myself, for years, into relationships that are not meant for me.
Nicky, Scarlett, Anna and Michelle, just to name a few, put me down without a hint of being interested in me, what I have read, written or am writing. And I let them all inside my heart to tear off as much as they want without asking for anything in return. I'm not out to force myself in to any one's lives, but that is the way I am made to feel, like a fool, a desperate man. I guess I am, stalking the world over for a pretty young thing to take me in and take me on. No luck, it ain't about to happen. Finding love must be like winning the lottery, too many others out to win and the odds are too great. I need to put more energy in to writing and finishing something, and less time in pursuit of ghosts. My fantasy life, will have to sustain me for the time being.
And then there are the days I would not take a thing in world for
days like today. I am not sure this day is going to be one of those days.
I just know that it is starting out as one. I had a great Sunday, but today is Monday.
Yesterday was grand. I got to see the ones I care most about in this world
and one of them shined there ever loving light on me. Showed me a ray of hope for the
future. At two in the morning, with nothing better to do, it feels good to have
hope. I made myself a promise, not to give up, no matter what, never give up.
The depression is very real and a very powerful force in my life that I am fortunately
able to recognise and deal with without the use of drugs. I tried the drug
route and convinced myself that it does not work for me. I am too involved and the
Zoloft made me feel nothing and I had rather have the pain. Nothing is nothing and
nothing hurts much more than the pain of past memories of failures. I hate to dwell
on the past and dwell on the past I am prone to do, but I need the reminder of past
failures. I am in need of the splendid, painful recalls I possess for failures. Without
which I would be destined to repeat the trips and falls into the pitfalls of my past.
Still the curse is that I am depressed too, by my past inequities. And by my loneliness
know that i am forever destined to be lonely. I see all of the happy couples, knowing that
I will never be one of them. I am not giving up on finding the right one for my heart, but it will have to be a right one, one that I see as right and not one simply for the connivance of a
companion. I want one I can get excited about making love to. One who is interested in
me and I in her. One who reads and is read; a writer, a poet, a passionate woman full of
love and compassion. She is out there waiting to find me and I her. We are destined for one another, the same way William was destined for Addie. They were two, a perfect pair, who
met by chance and stayed together for the rest of their lives. They never married and were
completed by one another, completely in love and each a perfect complement to the other.
I have been trying to force myself, for years, into relationships that are not meant for me.
Nicky, Scarlett, Anna and Michelle, just to name a few, put me down without a hint of being interested in me, what I have read, written or am writing. And I let them all inside my heart to tear off as much as they want without asking for anything in return. I'm not out to force myself in to any one's lives, but that is the way I am made to feel, like a fool, a desperate man. I guess I am, stalking the world over for a pretty young thing to take me in and take me on. No luck, it ain't about to happen. Finding love must be like winning the lottery, too many others out to win and the odds are too great. I need to put more energy in to writing and finishing something, and less time in pursuit of ghosts. My fantasy life, will have to sustain me for the time being.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Job In Professional Baseball
Applied for a job in baseball today.
Might be cleaning toilets at the Hank soon.
Big shots got to start out someplace. May as well be,
at the bottom. I don't expect to be a big shot,
I have never been a big shot before. Why start now-
I just want free shot at getting into the games.
And I told the man that-I'm coming weather
I get the job or not. It would be a blessing to me.
I love the game and i announced--out loud today--
I want to be the official scorer and pitch batting practice.
I could tell by the way they all looked at me, that I would
never get to work there. I'm too old, too fat, too this, too that.
The story of my life. Always too this or too that. Is that why
the women are staying away from me in droves?
I imagine so. But that's me, that's who i have grown up to be.
Insecure and homely, they see that by my admission and by
me refusing to be quite at the job fair and exhibiting
unrealistic expectations to the man that was there,
just taking applications and letting everyone know they don't pay
shit to work out there. I told him, I'm coming anyway!
So, why would they hire one of their few paying customers?
No way I'll get a job out there, no matter how bad they need help.
I showed up in my Hank Aaron Stadium cap. I was decked out, I
wanted them to know I'd been there before. I wounder, how many of the others
at the Hank today had been there before? Maybe they all had and were like me
trying to get back. Were thinking, like I was, "I'm going to be out here anyway,
I might as well get paid" Even if it is minimum wage. We'll see, I will let you know.
I don't believe they will call me but stranger things have happened.
Might be cleaning toilets at the Hank soon.
Big shots got to start out someplace. May as well be,
at the bottom. I don't expect to be a big shot,
I have never been a big shot before. Why start now-
I just want free shot at getting into the games.
And I told the man that-I'm coming weather
I get the job or not. It would be a blessing to me.
I love the game and i announced--out loud today--
I want to be the official scorer and pitch batting practice.
I could tell by the way they all looked at me, that I would
never get to work there. I'm too old, too fat, too this, too that.
The story of my life. Always too this or too that. Is that why
the women are staying away from me in droves?
I imagine so. But that's me, that's who i have grown up to be.
Insecure and homely, they see that by my admission and by
me refusing to be quite at the job fair and exhibiting
unrealistic expectations to the man that was there,
just taking applications and letting everyone know they don't pay
shit to work out there. I told him, I'm coming anyway!
So, why would they hire one of their few paying customers?
No way I'll get a job out there, no matter how bad they need help.
I showed up in my Hank Aaron Stadium cap. I was decked out, I
wanted them to know I'd been there before. I wounder, how many of the others
at the Hank today had been there before? Maybe they all had and were like me
trying to get back. Were thinking, like I was, "I'm going to be out here anyway,
I might as well get paid" Even if it is minimum wage. We'll see, I will let you know.
I don't believe they will call me but stranger things have happened.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Big Read
The Adventure of Tom Sawyer.
By Mark Twain
I have not read this book. I have read Mark Twain,
but not Huckleberry Fin or Tom Sawyer, I read
the best book, by his own admission, that Twain
ever wrote; "Joan of Arc". I had never even known
about the book until I read a review on the feast day
in May, of Saint Joan. Later the same day. I was in
a book store looking for a book of Rilke's poetry and
my eyes fell right upon Mark Twain's "Joan of Arc".
I never, ever, let coincidences like that past me these
days. I put down the Rilke and picked up Joan of Arc.
I have enjoyed the book and that was the first of Twain's
that I have read. But, now the big read, a exercises by
our library, along with the Mobile Public, to get books
into the hands of children, has asked me to read along
with our youth, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and I
am happy to do it. After Joan, I was bound and determined
to revisit Twain's other, more famous works.
I am proud to do anything that promotes reading. I know,
however the act of handing out the books is the easy part.
Seeing them read, is the part that I am not sure we can force
upon anyone. We will see and I will report my impressions of
Tom Sawyer and the big read and it's success or failure right
here in these post. I was asked to pick up the ten, brand new
copies of the book from the office on Government street in
Mobile, AL of the Mobile Public Library. I did so and put them
in the office of the Mount Vernon Public Library and that is
where they stayed until I mentioned to Adrienne, that didn't
she think we ought to hand the books out to children to read.
The books would never be read if we did not get them into the
hands of the local children and convince them to read them.
Adrienne called the Principle of our local elementary school and
we are going to go by there in two days to pass out our ten copies.
Adrienne and I are both also going to read the book and together
with the children, hopefully, have our own adventure. Now to begin...
WPCannon
1917
01 March 2010
MVPD
By Mark Twain
I have not read this book. I have read Mark Twain,
but not Huckleberry Fin or Tom Sawyer, I read
the best book, by his own admission, that Twain
ever wrote; "Joan of Arc". I had never even known
about the book until I read a review on the feast day
in May, of Saint Joan. Later the same day. I was in
a book store looking for a book of Rilke's poetry and
my eyes fell right upon Mark Twain's "Joan of Arc".
I never, ever, let coincidences like that past me these
days. I put down the Rilke and picked up Joan of Arc.
I have enjoyed the book and that was the first of Twain's
that I have read. But, now the big read, a exercises by
our library, along with the Mobile Public, to get books
into the hands of children, has asked me to read along
with our youth, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and I
am happy to do it. After Joan, I was bound and determined
to revisit Twain's other, more famous works.
I am proud to do anything that promotes reading. I know,
however the act of handing out the books is the easy part.
Seeing them read, is the part that I am not sure we can force
upon anyone. We will see and I will report my impressions of
Tom Sawyer and the big read and it's success or failure right
here in these post. I was asked to pick up the ten, brand new
copies of the book from the office on Government street in
Mobile, AL of the Mobile Public Library. I did so and put them
in the office of the Mount Vernon Public Library and that is
where they stayed until I mentioned to Adrienne, that didn't
she think we ought to hand the books out to children to read.
The books would never be read if we did not get them into the
hands of the local children and convince them to read them.
Adrienne called the Principle of our local elementary school and
we are going to go by there in two days to pass out our ten copies.
Adrienne and I are both also going to read the book and together
with the children, hopefully, have our own adventure. Now to begin...
WPCannon
1917
01 March 2010
MVPD
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