Journal Entry: 19 May 2014: Havana Writers

Tonight at the Havana Public Library, Havana Writers meet. I look forward to their meetings, these folks gather together to share our stories. Last month was my first meeting and I shared my essay, "Polenta of Grits". I was told that it was putrid and that I should burn it and stir the ashes. I  have been told I am not a poet and I have been told that I am not a writer. I don't agree or disagree, I keep on writing. Tonight I hope to share the start of another story, "Ghost Story" or "The Life". I am sure I will be put off my writing again. "You ought to just journal"; they may say, "for your own amusement." and not produce writing for other folks to have to endure.

I refuse to keep it to myself. Without a job, unemployed for more than a year, I write to keep from dwelling on that fact. I write for amusement, though I know what I write is not amusing; I get a kick out of producing some sign that I am here. I am here, therefore, I write. My journals, I have in the past, written out by hand in tablets. Now, I have just begun putting them out as these Blogger posts. I doubt anyone will notice, but in case anyone does, I am making them more legible and accessible. I repost these posts on facebook beneath, over and around the Writer's Almanac pieces that I find interesting and repost. That puts my journal's stream of conscious ramblings on my timeline for more folks to read and maybe they will still not want to read me, but be unable to turn away, plagued by the tedium and nonsense. Please forgive me if you have read this far and found yourself drowning in my irresponsible pleadings.

I would be willing to take a part-time job; did I mention that already? I may be too old now, too out of touch and part of the demographic that needs to fade away. I have a few good years left. If not a few, at least one or two. How old was Jerry Garcia when he died? Have I out lived Garcia? He had a faithful following and I have nothing. I sold my guitar before I moved to Havana. If I had a job I would try to buy another guitar and maybe this time, learn to play, start a band and tour the planet playing the guitar and singing the words that were never poetry to begin with.

After the Havana Writers meeting tonight, I plan to amend this journal entry, or at least add another paragraph about what happened with me at the meeting. I hope by the end of our meeting tonight I have a clearer direction for my writing. Peace&Love!

The meeting ended at eight o'clock. The Librarian had to run us out. I let the other members at the meeting read my short essay, The Life. I got good feed back mostly from people who are interested in the story and want to read more. That's good to hear. Thank You, fellow Havana Writers. It's good to hear good reviews.