ANOTHER SERENDIPITY RECALLED

fractal-136113_1280 design in passionate colors, Pixabay, Public Domain

Years ago I belonged to the French Art Colony in Gallipolis, Ohio.  We had a one-sentence prompt for our next meeting.  On my way to work every day I drove by signs that made unfavorable statements about a resident.  I wrote my poem about him and posted it on my very first blog. Soon my son told me a female had found him on the internet and she wanted to talk to me, would he give her my address?

Turns out she was related to the man in the signs, and he was dead now. She just wanted me to know that he had a good, kind, loving side to him.  She also said she travels the same route to and from work as I do.  All of which seemed pretty serendipitious.  The “prompt,” by the way, was “Such  are our braided lives.”

 

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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1 Response to ANOTHER SERENDIPITY RECALLED

  1. Absolutely amazing!

    Like

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