Tuesday, October 17, 2017

two big days came and went, along with the stunning weather that is so common in mid-october wherever you are. here, mid-october is as good as anywhere, and i looked out at the backside of downtown cloudcroft, and saw the colors. the colors, and the wood in a pile, and an old truck, and somebody's motor home. this is my usual view. above that, more colors, and the white sands, and the mountains beyond. but in the foreground, the colors.

first one, halfway point for the haiku. since april 16th is haiku day, it's my target for publishing. this would mean that i'd need 500 by october 16th. october 16th came by and i had 390, a little short. but i did get into production mode, making the requisite four (some days, eight, or maybe ten), and i've managed to keep up that part of the bargain.

i sit in middle school classes, and watch torture. it's torture in the sense that young kids can hardly take sitting in a chair hearing about english topics, even five minutes, let alone forty, or eighty. no way. they're struggling. they're spitting spitballs, getting up to go to the bathroom. and i'm sitting back there, thinking haiku. can't help it. maybe i should be walking around, leaning on the weak ones, but i don't. i think haiku.

i have an idea for a book. take all three or four thousand of them, and put them together. it would take some work. it would be a volume of haiku. it would also be a novel. it's out there.

problem is, i might have a real job any time soon. this would make me very busy. might not have the mental freedom for haiku. on the other hand, i might need escapism more than ever.

and so it goes. october 15, schoolbus day, a personal holiday. my pledge to kids, to be true, to be there for them. my first law at work - don't hurt them - i'm ok with that, that's easy. actually hanging in there with all the crazy stuff they do, that's a different story. i'm more mature, though, than i used to be. i can do it.

Friday, October 06, 2017

left home, & the car was acting funny. felt like a tire, and it was. the tire light was on like one was flat, but the car wasn't wobbling so much, just making a funny sound. partway down the hill it exploded into shreds, with smoke coming up; i pulled over. there was no jack or spare in the trunk, and this surprised me; apparently these cars have little pumps that help you fill up a low tire, but do nothing for a blowout.

my phone could call home, but couldn't access the phone number of work. i was at an old apple place tucked up on the hill that sold such things as apple firewood. i put my blinkers on and stood there looking forlorn. a woman who runs the king's treasure came by and gave me a ride. this was lucky because i would have been late if she hadn't. king's treasure is a second-hand shop, religious, used to be right near our house. it's possible she recognized me. it's a small town on the mountain.

the night before, my son and i, and his dog, were walking up to the lodge, as we do every night, straight up from about 8700 to about 8950, when we encountered a guy with a couch in a truck. we agreed to help him move the couch.

up above, there were stars, but there were thunder and lightning clouds, both to the north and to the south; in fact, it was a lightning show. i am good at getting couches into narrow doorways. there was another one and we did that one too. the guy was very friendly and was glad to have moved from california. when he described california geography it meant nothing to me; lancaster, scv, places like that. he was coming out to the mountains to retire. his wife appeared to be pregnant. fortunately one more woman happened by, and offered to hold the dog leash while we got the couches inside. it all worked.

lots of rain on the hill. mud on the roads, rocks, etc. littered the roadways. the tow trucks were busy. even the gulleys and ditches were full, even in the valley, which is generally dry as the bone. it keeps on coming from down in the pacific, off the coast of mexico, kind of a long monsoon season, i guess they would say. although monsoon season is generally over by september.

working hard, fanatically, on the haiku. it's all there, if you go there and scroll down, i publish it daily, secretly. it's all there, a few thousand now. considering making a huge volume of it. at times like this i live in it. though i only wrote six, seven today, it took me all day. and i'm behind, so i'm somewhat obsessive about it.

don't have one for the hill; not making progress on new mexico itself. i'm comfortable in it, though, that says something. i perform tomorrow. i've kept my job. my kids are famous. what more could you want?