What is a Writer?

What is a writer, if nothing more than a pair of eyes, absorbing information from the environment, experiencing it, processing it, and finally expressing those perceptions through language? There are exceptions, of course, at least in theory. Educated claims, made by persons devoted to understanding a riddle, plucked and gleaned from limited resources, but which without all the pieces of the puzzle, despite dedication, are the valleys and peaks of scholarly visions. But this is the nature of curiosity and passion — a relentless pursuit for answers, the truth. These attempts are by no means futile or insignificant, but help construct a semi-coherent picture of what may have been. The intention to distinguish fact from myth is a noble pursuit.

And so, the subject which has rightfully fascinated investigators since antiquity, a trend which will likely continue indefinitely, is Homer, the greatest epic poet of all time. Linguistic variations of his epic poems suggest that Homer may have not authored both The Iliad and The Odyssey. But then again, investigators can only place his birth between a span of time, centuries apart. Just think of that. Not decades but centuries. Now that is what I would call a huge mystery. And one must not forget that these works were based on an oral tradition, so once again, there are more questions than answers. Homer was also presumably blind. Really? That’s an incredible claim. Perhaps he suffered from an eye disease later in life. Science has proven that eye diseases prevail in later life. And so, the verdict is out on that one, and for good reason, for it leads to a simple but significant question: How could a poet perceive what he expressed without the use of his eyes? My guess is that Milton would throw that theory into the trash.

The Biggest Wish In Town

Born to ask questions, you just can’t nudge this one, sometimes. I began giving it a lot of thought when I was a teenager. 
I’d lay on the couch, my head nestled in the corner, my hair hanging over the edge, the sun bathing there. 
What is Happiness?
That question has nudged me all of my life – or, most of it. 
So, having decades to explore its nature, I learned every thing it was not. That was not part of the plan, either
Then again. 
It was essential to the plan. 
Failure is far more valuable than successes. Just look at the popular notion of success,
The dumbass football player who has everything, except, a brain. 
Many detours, as you can see, take place. 
But you are committed to finding the answer to your question, until one day, you realize you don’t care anymore. 

Today and today and today

It’s been that way all day, today. 
Finally, finally, finally – 
(But dare I say it? 
Very risky 
Very very risky. 
Oh, well. 
I’m not a Las Vegas Person. 
But this. 
This interests me immensely. )


TODAY
“Things are finally looking up.”
Good day yesterday. 
Good yesterday. 
Did research. 
Relaxed. 
Had my gourmet peanut butter and black currant jelly on country white bread sandwich. 


Listened to lots of music. 
Wrote. 
And wrote. 
And wrote and wrote and wrote.  
Went to bed. Slept well. Up during the night cause I had an earlier nap. Relaxed. And productive. Woke up rested. 
Took another nap. 
Worked and worked. 
Went out to get cigarettes and gas. 
Took Illinois Elgin – O’Hare something, etc., intending to go to Starbucks and spend the afternoon on my computer. But there was no sign on what was formerly 355 for the Woodefield Mall Exit, a major shopping attraction, anymore. 


I didn’t want to go to O’Hare, and besides, I doubted it was done anyway. They started building it when I was still living in the area. It would be years before it reached O’Hare, decades, perhaps. 


Not that I was thinking about the shit above when I was driving – nope. Not at all. Mostly I was trying to figure out where the fuck I was. I landed several towns away and in a different direction. So I decided to make a left at the intersection. The street was broad and had several lanes in both direction and was empty. 


I pulled into the outer left-turn lane. There were 2 outer left-turn lanes, land the light was red, so I relaxed a bit, and thought about getting my google navigation out, to help me find my way back to Woodfield. 


The other lanes, to my right, had green lights. But traffic was extremely light. So I sat in my lane and waited for the red arrow to turn into a green arrow, while the other lanes – on both sides of the road – were green. 


My focus was ahead. 


BOOM
BAM
CRASH
CRASH CRASH
BAM
WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED! 
Fuck!  I was hit. 


I WAS OKAY. 
PRETTY MUCH. 
FOR A WHILE. 


The seat belt locked me tight against the seat. That was the most painful. 


Aside from splitting my upper lip (my first ever!) I felt physically okay. But my brain was no longer intact. Who knows what chemicals it was awash in now?




My Brain was in Shock. 


The absurdity of what I have so lovingly titled, THE ODYSSEY OF INVISIBILITY, of events – totally, outside of my control – would rival Voltaire’s Tale. 


Eventually, you start to wonder why Today keeps looking the same?
You’re cursed!


And the day keeps changing and looking the same. 
Today and today. 
However
I would rather not 



This Is For The "Three Day In A Row, It Feels Like Friday, Group. All welcomed.

Well.
Here we are.
So I was thinking about a space voyage I had just completed. It was really good. And hard to let go of.

This Is For The “Three Day In A Row, It Feels Like Friday, Group. All welcomed.

Well.
Here we are.

So I was thinking about a space voyage I had just completed. It was really good. And hard to let go of.

CULTURAL MATHEMATICS: Equations (Variables)

EQUATION: (Variables)
Upend Perceptions + Rearrange = ?

My resolution is to conduct a Census on Honkies – social and economic characteristics, etc.

Bear in mind, that I fall within that category.