Monday, November 02, 2015

Circling from rags to riches

Life is a circle, my in-law tells me. It is a circle indeed, I offer. The last time I was in my present plight, my father in law, seeing me broke and depressed, chided "Oh, come on now. You're sitting in your own Ukrainian sh*t!." (But ones own class, at least at the time, was reaching up to help me out. Father-in-law did sign the cheque). Egad. Forty yeas later, I am still "sitting in my own Ukrainian sh*t." And this time there is no cheque signer. Or has one found one's own operating principle? My father-in-law's cheque was for $100, 000. Migod. I have f*cked up totally. Come on million dollars!

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

What seems a lifetime ago, in journalism school, they told me,"If you want to be a writer, you must give up the violin." Fifty years later, I am still conflicted. There is the writing, yes, miles of it, but I still sneak off to the local pub to do a little fiddle-playing, more specifically, a gig as lounge singer in the good ole style of Seventies Baroque Rock and Roll. I suppose I am still of two heads, left-brain and right. Left for the analytical and detailed, that is to say good writing--or just plain letting it hang out in rock'n'roll, which is probably ones true nature--anarchy and barely competent musicianship. It is also a good way of getting laid. Why does a 77-year old man go to a guitar gig at a nightclub? Well, all through my misspent youth, people called me a crafty f*cker. lol.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Today, my stomach rumbled...

Indeterminate longings. Going this way and that. The sudden great notion that no matter what you do, it's all futile. --It's only your stomach, Bunky. You are thinking with your stomach! Nevertheless, it really does seem to want a beer. lol.