Jan. 10, 2013

I am a slow reader, especially if I am not totally into what I am reading. This keeps me from reading a lot. It, also, sometimes, keeps me from reading at all. These days, I like to read memoirs, in part, because that is what I write besides my poetry. I like it when someone can spin an interesting story about their lives. I feel as if there is a story in all of us, but only some dig down and put it on the page.

My story, this morning, so far, is that it was a beautiful day outside for a dog walk. I didn’t have to wear my heavy coat, my wool hat, and scarf, and gloves. I threw on my jean jacket stuck my phone in the chest pocket, after turning the radio on, and enjoyed not nearly being frozen to death on our walk.

Today, I played the punk channel. Fear, Black Flag, The Ramones, and The Sex Pistols blasted from my pocket taking me down memory lane as the dogs and I walked. I kind of grew up on the songs that these hardcore bands spew. Of course, I am just as likely to play some hippy music: Crosby Stills Nash and Young, The Byrds, America etc. I was wondering to myself, on the walk, what kind of songs will I write, once I have gotten a little further with learning the guitar. Will I create angry punk rock songs, or will I create songs of peace and love?

My harmonica is missing. I am bummed.