I believe in being prepared for any given situation. It isn't because I'm a pessimistic person; I think it is just good common sense. Hence, I've entitled my blog "Even Nothing is Something."
This covers my butt in any event. On any given day I can feel great exaltation that I have done something grand. I can scribble fiercely when my thoughts are leaping across the meadows of my mind like a happy little colt in the month of May, or my mind and writing can be as dry and arid, as cold and without life, as the Gobi desert - because even Nothing is Something.
I want to thank all of my fellow artists who work through other means and forms and who sell their work on the wonderful artist's site "Etsy," a place to buy and sell all things handmade, along with vintage items and supplies for their craft. They are a great group of people.
Those who have links to their site on my blog represent only a few of those whom I wish to include. Just click on one of those links and join the Etsy community. It is free. They are a great group of artists who have relieved me of my money in the most delightful of ways. If it weren't for their encouragement, I would have never shared my work through this blog.
Thank you my darling friends!
Enjoy my blog - The Poet or Not - More or Less
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I forgot to mention this dreadful incident occurred on a Christmas Day.
Writing poetry is a way for me to express both my joy and my pain. Love it or hate it, you will get a fairly good dose of it here on my new blog, unless I find that posting it here sacrifices my first publisher’s rights. That would be a source of vexation.
I am a true bibliophile with a nice personal library. If I like a book, I must own it. The only things I truly don’t like to read are romance novels. Otherwise, I read authors such as Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Lee Child, James Grisham, Patricia Caldwell plus many, many more. Janet Evanovich makes me howl. My taste is truly eclectic.
The night seems to have more room for me so I generally go to bed when the rest of the world might be waking up at 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. That is when I read for hours. My service/working dog awakens me everyday at the crack of noon. This is fine; he does not buzz, rattle or shriek into my ear from some mechanical apparatus; he awakens me quite gently with either a few little whimpers, a soft lick of the tongue or, when desperate, a quiet little wolf.
Character limit says you have suffered enough.