Monday night, almost Tuesday morning. I just watched The Riverman on A&E. It was pretty scary, and in ways I'm sure many people won't get. Oh well.

Saturday was the big retirement party for my brother John. My family had a great time. We played volleyball (my team losing 2 of 3) and a hysterical game of Horse, which Brett won. Bryan and I beat John and Donnie in basketball, but I don't think talent was involved...at least not on my part. (Bets were taken on who would end up in the pool during the game, and though no one officially fell in, I was the odds on favorite.) There was a ceremonial burning of the CG uniform. There was much food and laughter. My ankle and neck hurt a bunch, but it always does. I got to add some pain from pulled groins and the nagging voice that sounds like my mother and says, "You are not young anymore." Some of the pictures are here. (Thanks Kaye for not posting the most embarrassing ones.)

I was much happy spending this time with the family. Finally got to see Jen and Donnie's most gorgeous baby, my nephew Blake. See the pics, adore the child! Was able to chat with my grandfather and visit with Aunt Ellen and laugh with cousins and brothers and sisters. That is minus Steve. His absence was noted with many profound exclamations. Seriously dude, come see us some time!

John and Kaye are wonderful hosts, as are Jen and Donnie. I hope we can live up to the task come Thanksgiving. Anyway, thanks guys for a terrific day!

I am very proud of my brother's service to his country. It is plenty that he devoted so much of his life to his work in the Coast Guard, but he also is a real family man, not like on television, but I've met few men whose love of his wife and children is more obvious. He also has a great sense of humor and though we disagree on many important ideas and issues, he is worth arguing with. I also admire that he wants to work, that he recognizes the need for a man to be of use.

So Sunday, I didn't go to church, and I feel much guilty for it. Our family is still trying to get ourselves used to the idea of getting up and driving to McKinney for services (and Sunday school soon). I know there is a fine congregation in Rockwall, but St. Peter's has meant a great deal to us. I'm not sure yet that it is time for us to leave.

Did some catching up today on school stuff. For once, I won't feel guilty that I took a bunch of stuff home only to ignore it all weekend and rush through it. I conclude, therefore, that all weekends should be three days long. Of course, I didn't mow the yard, but I'm planning to blame that on Hurricane Francis.

Read the first story in Block's Sometimes You Get The Bear, titled "By Dawn's Early Light." It features his character Matt Scudder. I liked it okay. I've decided I probably should save reading like this for the afternoon/evening and keep the heavier stuff to morning when my mind is better suited for it. Thus I seem to be back to trying to read several books at once. Have relegated The Art of Rapid Reading to bathroom time, which sounds bad, but I'm at a point in the book where its age is showing and I'm perhaps a bit less interested, though many fascinating tidbits still come out. As for Aristotle, I'm plowing through, getting some of it.

Also, since I need to be in my office by 6:30, and I want to make sure I have a quiet time each day, preferably at home before work, I will have to try to get up a bit earlier. I'm moving the clock up 15 minutes until I get the timing where I want it. The wife, one might say, is not so pleased.

Peace to all!

Morning in the office. I'm finally listening to that Pat Metheny CD, One Quiet Night. Getting the day started.

Yesterday read that over 40 percent of college students plagiarize papers from the Internet. Most students see cheating as morally wrong, but "socially acceptable," I read as well. All very depressing. I noticed that many articles I read about the subject made some sort of reference to the Enron scandal.

There are a number of reasons this all happens, of course. We live in a culture where most believe that one can (and often should) do whatever they can get away with. Many write about how difficult school (particularly college) is, or how important it is to get good grades. Of course we can explore the moral and ethical dissipation of our world. And as we know, success breeds success. If students continue to get away with cheating, then they often feel they will always get away it. Few realize (or care) that "getting away with it" at school does not mean that you will do so in life. Many students tell themselves that since the class is one they "won't really use" in real life (whatever the heck that means), it is certainly okay to cheat to through.

Why would we hire a doctor who gets answers for his Algebra class? Do I really want to go to a lawyer who cannot do the critical thinking required to write a literature paper because he was able to download something from the Internet? Why should I respect a policeman who has paid someone to sit in on his Biology lab?

I need to write more about this later, but for now, I have work to do.
Peace.

Listening to: classical music on WRR. Was in the mood for Pat Metheny's One Quiet Night, but had some trouble with my computer. Too bad. Great album for the stress I've felt this week.

Last Friday, I had to request my transcript from college. This was more of an annoyance than anything else since my credentials had already been accepted (as far as I knew) from the review committee. There isn't a question about the credentials however, but about officialness of the document. Eastfield is in the process of its SACS work and the process is very stressful. No wonder it is done only every ten years.

So far, I like my classes and they seem to like me. Working to communicate my assignments better. I have to accept that no matter how hard I work at it, some students are going to struggle with the assignments. Tried to stress today and yesterday that it is harder to understand writing assignments if one intends to see the essay as a one-shot deal where the finished paper is in the head before any composition occurs. One must begin the work for some things to become clear.

Don't know what the heck is going on with my foot. By the end of the day it hurts like the dickens. Neck has been sore and tender too.

I think that after years of not voting, I will actually participate in this election. And I hate that a single issue is driving that decision, but I am really upset at the state of a country that cannot tolerate dissent. And I cannot understand a leader who openly works to squash dissent.

Have not done much writing the past few days. Made some notes here and there, but I've got a list of things to do at school that gets longer instead of shorter each day. How very aggravating!

John's retirement party is this weekend. He has been up here closer for a few months but he will be officially retired from service in the Coast Guard. So odd. He is almost a year younger than me, and is retiring and I feel I've barely begun my career. Maybe I've haven't been living right. Seriously, I'm proud of John and really excited that he is able to start a couple new chapters in his life. Also glad he and his terrific family are a lot closer so we can see them more often.

Angela is at school and seems to be happy (except for her mumbling Biology professor). I got her an ethernet cable for her pc, and suddenly I was super dad. If I'd only known it was that easy!

Can't tell you, gentle readers, how excited I have been this week to discover that some 7-11 stores between home and work are now carrying Diet Rite Cola. The diet soft drinks made by the RC people are the only ones I know of that use Splenda instead of nutrisweet (which is not really that good for you). These are also the only diet soft drinks that actually taste like colas. Okay, perhaps this isn't the most startling news of the day, but it is pretty exciting to me. Most convenience stores carry the major diet drinks, and most also have regular RC Cola. But until now, a Diet RC or Diet Rite has been hard to find. So, 7-11, Uncle Mike thanks you.

Reading? Have not had much energy to read the hard stuff I started, but I'm not giving up. I did discover a used bookstore in Rockwall called Roma's Preread Books. There I found paperbacks of Deborah Crombie's All Shall Be Well and Some Days You Get The Bear by Lawrence Block. So if I decide to take a break from the hard stuff, I still have these two. Deb's novel is one of her early ones. I've read a few of hers and really love them. The Block book is a collection of short stories. I think Block is pretty good at short fiction while most other mystery writers manage to merely take up space. Of course, he's no slouch as a novelist.

Well, I better go for now. I have quizzes to grade and one to write. Enjoy the day!

A week of classes has gone by and all seems okay. Introductory stuff seems to have gone through okay and all. Trying to get my plans done a week in advance so I have more time at home for my quiet time and stuff with the kids. Spent much of the weekend getting the kids to clean their rooms and other domestic stuff like cleaning my study. Got my hat rack on the wall. Read the in class writing I wanted to read for tomorrow, but not everything. I want to tweak my presentation on invention.

Found out this morning that my poem "Midlife" has been accepted to the print issue of Mandrake Poetry Review, a sister publication of The New Formalist. This is pretty exciting. Not as many of my rhymed pieces see print and this is one I'm a bit fond of.

Angela is off at college, living in the dorm her mother once lived in, her first class tomorrow. We all got to chat with her a bit. Boyfriend was there being Mr. Wonderful. I'm a little nervous, but I've got much faith in her.

Made more notes on the essay about student reading and preparedness. It seems the more I draft, the more I feel I need to do in the way of invention. Read the introduction and some of the first section of a grand old book called The Art of Rapid Reading by Walter B Pitkin. The book was published in 1929, and it seems that what got in the way of businessmen and women as far as reading is concerned seems to still plague our modern day student. I think I may use a quote or two from the book in my essay.

A thousand or more people protested Bush today in NYC. There was a replay of the episode of The Practice where a woman who is told to move her protest of the president assaults a police officer. I certainly don't condone violence, but the commander in chief and his cronies have to see the bad p.r. that stifling free speech does to them. This issue alone may make me vote for Kerry. But I refuse to vote according to one item or agenda.

Started reading Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. Trying to practice what I preach about reading. Probably finding it as tough to wade through as much students find much of the material I assign. This is in the second book of a four volume set called The World's Greatest Thinkers. This is the "Man and Man" volume. I have given myself the lofty goal of reading the entire series, hopefully by the end of the semester. So gentle reader, prepare for either pithy quotes and astute observations or my vile expressions of frustration.

Listening to a tape I made several years ago of the David Becker Tribune. Sure wish Napster had some of their stuff. KNTU played a few cuts from their recent album regularly this summer and I wanted to get some. But alas, none is to be had.

Convocation week. This is the week before classes begin when we go to meetings that are usually too long and often unnecessary, work on our syllabi, and catch up with our colleagues. Today we had a workshop on collegiality. I went away feeling unwell. Maybe that's good. I have a lot to learn.

The school year will soon be upon us. Monday begins school for the kids (except Angela) and I have reporting week. Then classes the following Monday. Angela moves into her dorm at Texas A&M Commerce on Wednesday. Tonya had a devil of a time getting Angela registered for her classes, thanks much to the runaround of a student worker who didn't understand enough English to get past the difficulties of the pat responses he was told to give.

I am looking forward to everything, but I feel I have not gotten as much done this summer as I would like. I hope I can work on the syllabi and writing e-book this week, so I will not be so stressed next week.

Have not done much writing...a few poems, or rather a handful of disparate lines. The other day, I worked on the plagiarism essay and the letter to politicians essay, but I don't know if I've really accomplished much.

Spent last weekend with my brother John and his family. Was really nice to visit. Mom and Bryan came on Saturday and we played volleyball and ate steak. Mostly I did nothing and chatted extensively with John.

Finally finished The Greatest Story Ever Told. I'm glad I read it. There is much to like about it, but some of the book did not set well with me. There were some subtle places that seemed a bit anti-Semetic and too often the dialogue (especially where passages of Scripture had been taken directly) lapsed into King James English, which disturbed not only the flow, but the tone and flavor of the overall story. However, I may be too critical about these points.

Have returned I, Robot, by Isaac Assimov. Am in the third chapter/story. So far so good. I do sense, perhaps because I am returning to school soon, perhaps because I have not written much, to read something a bit more substantial.

Blake Matthew Bowlin, my new nephew, was born Sunday. Happy mother and father are doing fine at home and trying to get used to life not only with child, but also with family.

Listening to: Pat Metheny's Watercolors disc (actually on tape) IN MY NEW HOUSE!!! We are finally here! It seems like a crazy long journey, but I have finally moved. Tonya and I are really sore and tired, perhaps a bit cranky, but really happy to be here. The kids are figuring out how to live in a house, and the experience has been painful at times, and ecstatic at times. Max's favorite thing seems to be the water sprinkler, that and the TVR feature on the new Dish system. The twins seem to delight in chasing each other around. Alex seems to love her solitude in her room.
 
Took forever, it seems, but finally found the book I was reading, The Greatest Story Ever Told. Perhaps I've lost a little interest, but I had read a good third, and I'm committed to finishing. Plan to read Asimov's I, Robot next.

Ready to get back to some sort of routine of writing. I got a nice letter the other day from someone who actually reads my blog. The letter encouraged me to get back to work on an essay that has been bouncing around with me for some time. I'd also like to get back to submitting some stuff.
 
Did get news that two poems have been accepted for online journals. One is to be published at Dufus. It is titled, "Slam the door when you go." The other, "Fear at Burger King," is already available at Chronogram. I'm actually getting paid real money for the poem at Chronogram. So thanks to all that have looked so kindly on my little pieces. And reader, please go read.
 
Peace,
 

Back at the library, checking emails, trying to get some quiet, fighting various temptations, picking up a couple of movies.

We finally have a closing for Monday. Hopefully we can load the truck on Sunday and get out of the crap hole early. Have already gotten a couple of nasty notes from the apartment (which seems to have already changed managers after only a week of having a new one). We are excited, but a bit anxious. After all the roadblocks, I suppose we keep expecting a call that says the whole thing is off.

The whole ordeal has been, and continues to be, an exercise of faith. We have prayed and trusted that this move is the will of God. I've wondered if I was blinded by the house, and that these roadblocks might be confirmation that we are not to proceed. But faith untested is not faith worth having. We must have trials and difficulties to prove the faith real, not for God who knows us, but for ourselves, who cannot fathom the depths of our possibilities.

About a third through The Greatest Story Ever Told, and despite a couple of nagging problems, I am enjoying it. A couple of notes: first, I noticed in the Prologue that a chief motivation for writing the book was that so few people were reading the Bible, that biblical phrase in conversation brought stares and blank expressions. Mr. Oursler seems to have been sad that such an important document was fading from (my expression) cultural literacy. The book was published in 1949! Well, Mr. Oursler, it hasn't gotten any better.

Second, in the Prologue, the author explains that he took great pains, when the story would be made into a radio serial, to be sure that the story was accurate and would not offend (and I presume appeal to) Protestants or Catholics. He writes nothing of how it would be received by Jews. There are pains taken, it seems to my ignorant mind, to faithfully reproduce the people and times. However, there are little things that might stand out as inaccurate or even offensive, such as Jesus being described not only as having a perfect body (not a problem in itself), but coupling the image with notes that his skin was "lighter" than his companions. I don't know that a lot of people would notice it, but it did bug me a little. However, the story is still interesting. I'm sorry, actually, that I am past the part with Joseph's role in the story. I liked reading about his as a man of faith. However, I'm confident I will find similar tales of others in the novel.

Well, I haven't moved into the new place yet. I'm sitting in the library after reading my emails because I have no phone at home and thus no internet access. We were supposed to close a week ago. Argh!

Have finished reading The Best American Mystery Stories 2000 and a book of haiku poems I found a few days ago at Half Price Books. The haiku was not so great, but it is part of a series I have two or three books of. This is the first (I think, I'm not sure because the others are in my office). It wasn't terrible, but I suppose I have found some more satisfying. Of course, with haiku, one's state of mind has much to do with how it is received. And I have not been in a great state of mind.

The mystery stories were fine. I'm glad I finished before the move, but with my books packed up, I'm reticent to start much else. I did begin reading a copy of The Greatest Story Ever Told by Fulton Oursler. I have this first edition that isn't in great shape and it somehow didn't get packed with the other stuff. So far, I've read three chapters. I like some; some I'm not too keen on. We shall see.

Still writing...a little. Haven't worked on the "grief" essay in a couple of days, but I think I'm nearing the end of the draft. I did finish drafting my first (can you believe it, after 40 years?!?) sestina. It is about the delay in moving. It is perhaps too dreamy, but I'm glad I finally did one of these. I think I'll do others.

Better run for now. Peace of Christ to all who read here.

Listening to Keith Jarrett, the two disc rarum set. Really nice. Just what I need these days.

To paraphrase Bart Simpson, I didn't think it was possible, but moving both sucks and blows. Tonya and I have worked out butts off this weekend and I feel like I'm barely any closer to being ready. Of course, if the little ones would quit dumping boxes or taking things out of boxes I've packed....

Trying not to be too cynical (cynicism is second nature to me), but I probably won't feel right about the move until we are actually in the house. And for a while after then I'm likely to keep expecting someone to show up at the door and say, "Oops, sorry, made a mistake, you'll have to leave." We close on the first and Tonya wants to move in right away. That's the middle of the week though, and I don't know how much help we will have. I certainly can't afford real movers. John, who brought some boxes by the other day, said he'd help if he wasn't working. And I think the little ones will stay with Tonya's parents the night before, so we should be able to get a thing or two accomplished. But I have my doubts.

Writing? Well, I even feel guilty doing this weblog. Tonya found ten more of my old short stories. They were in some slightly stinky folders with drafts of each. I wrote most of these when I was going through a self-indulgent phase (as if writing a blog isn't self-indulgent) where I assumed that long after I was gone, people would want to read every draft and note about every story I wrote, so I kept them together. Well, I took the final drafts out, scanned them, and threw away the rest of the stuff. I planned to throw away the final drafts too once they were scanned and I had made sure I had everything okay. But I've decided to keep them in a separate folder (I hope the Lysol helps). I have edited about four or five and even submitted three. I don't like most of these all that much, but they seem okay. I believe a few are worth publishing though they do represent a slightly different person than the writer I am now.

Have also, I suppose, been working on an essay. I started it a few days ago, and it was then a kind of comparison of my mother after her miscarriage and my wife at various difficult times in her life. But it has turned, it seems, into a different animal altogether. I wrote last about a funeral and a graveyard I used to walk through. I remembered a few things about growing up right before my Mom got remarried. I'm not sure what the essay will be eventually, but I suppose I have to write it to find out. I really don't know why it bothers me to think about some of this stuff, but it does, and I know I won't quite feel right until I finish this piece.

I don't believe, in all the ramblings I have made here about what I read, that I have mentioned the reading that I do with my kids. Pity. Anyway, we usually let the three youngest take turns choosing what "chapter book" we'll read next, and I sort of talked Christina into reading L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. We finished the chapter called "The Happy Medium" tonight. This is a wonderful book. I think the kids really liked it. The other day Max brought me one of the other books in the series and said that he might choose it when we are done (he has the next turn). Anyway, every time I look at this book I wonder why I don't read more by L'Engle. I have read one of her journals, a book of poetry, and maybe one of the other novels. She's terrific no matter what one experiences.

On a side note, I realized something as I read tonight. "The Happy Medium" is the chapter where the kids get to Camazotz. They see everything bland and the same. I could not help thinking of Ayn Rand's Anthem, which I read several months ago. I did not care for Rand's book so much, though I didn't hate it. I probably would have loved it in high school or college. Anyway, I was thinking about how both authors seemed to protest mindless conformity, but I like L'Engle's vision better. I don't think it is just because she is Christian while Rand is not, though I'm sure that has a little to do with it. I'm not sure I'll have to mull it over some. I just remember thinking of the two as I read.

Well, I don't know if I'll write again before the move, but who knows. Can't get much done at night anyway.

Listening to: Eberhard Weber's rarum xviii (the very good collection series from ECM). Will likely go to Wayne Shorter or Brad Mehldau after that.

I'm sitting in the library at Collin County Community College as my twins are at Girl Scout "Camp". Making some minor changes to the webpage and maybe getting a little writing done.

The move appears to be very much on! We met with the builder yesterday for the "walk through." I actually got excited seeing my backyard that needed mowing. I've been fantasizing about the computer in my new study and letting the kids watch television or play in a room that is not where I am reading and not having to chase away a roach when I get a drink of water. I sure hope Royce City is ready for the Morris family.

So far, I have not done much writing on the novel. I did manage to put together a chapter or so, but in the past week, I think I've contributed about 1,000 words to the project. That doesn't depress me as much as I thought it would, I suppose because I have been working on a couple of essays. I think it I came out of the summer with some publishable stories and essays, I might be okay.

Have been submitting work pretty much every day I can. So far I have probably a dozen or so decent stories under consideration. That does make me feel like I'm getting something done. Most of the publications are online. This is because I just have not had the time (I work on this mostly at night) or resources (do you know how much postage and paper costs, never mind that my printer dies some time ago?) to commit to much for print journals. I also see a couple of other advantages here. Most of these "zines" are pretty good. I do think they get read by some important people. I also have been able to read sample work before submitting. This, I know, increases my chances because I won't waste their time sending something that is nowhere near the kind of story, poem, or essay they publish.

Some places take novel excerpts. I have only submitted the first chapter of Of All Things, a couple of time, and was rejected each time. Perhaps, however, something online would like that.

Now listening to Brad Mehldau Trio's Songs: The Art of the Trio, Volume 3. Should probably go somewhere and write. It occurred to me the other day that I have never attempted a sestina. So I've been thinking about it, but haven't gotten very far.

Speaking of not getting very far, I'm still muddling through (not really the best word choice, I know) the Best American Mystery Stories of 2000. Finally finished this novella that is in the middle of the dang book. I really like most of this, and the stuff I don't love is still entertaining, but I hate taking so long to get through a book. But I suppose despite my vacation, I've been pulled in many directions. At least most of these directions are good ones. I'm broke, tired, and stressed, but having a pretty good summer so far.

Have yet to write anything about Father Chuck leaving. His leave taking service was Sunday and I admit I did cry a little during his last regular service. Not so much during his sermon, but at communion. Communion is a pretty emotional moment of church for me anyway, and I guess looking up at him as he said, "Body of Christ" for what is likely the last time got to me a little.

Chuck has meant a great deal to me as a spiritual man, but he has been a wonderous champion for my family. He is not only a well-grounded man as far as all the spiritual "stuff" of theology, scripture, and tradition is concerned. He is also a well-grounded man of this world. He understands real life. His patience and love for us has taught me a great deal and while the many ways he has helped me in temporal way has meant a great deal to us, he has helped me hang on during some rather tough spiritual times. I sure hope the congregation in Waco really understands the blessing they have coming to them.

Listening to Coltrane, but not very loud. The more "out there" pieces are on and everyone else is asleep. I ought to be, but I've screwed that up by taking a long nap.

We have been doing some cleaning in anticipation of the move. Tonya found some folders of my junk the other day and one had some important stuff, at least to me. There was a volume of my personal journal from around 1986 or 9, I don't remember which. There was a small note pad that I must of gotten to write some sort of devotional pieces in. And there were a couple folders with some stories and poems I wrote a long time ago.

The really great thing about this discovery is not just that I found some writing that I had pretty much forgotten, but that I found a few pieces I didn't hate. There were two decent short stories, one I think is still pretty good. I have scanned it all in and the stuff I think is publishable will go out with the rest of the stuff I've been sending out this summer. I've already sent off the story I liked most, "Promise."

A few weeks ago, I got the idea of collecting some old poems in a small chapbook and perhaps shopping it around, entering it in a contest or two, or making an e-book to sell somewhere. When I had this idea, I spent the better part of an afternoon finding and retyping some poems I thought wouldn't be too embarrassing to publish (some have been). But I only had 13 poems, and a couple of those were written in graduated school. I have found 11 more. After some editing and revision, this might make a nice little volume. It is not a project I had expected to work on this summer, but I think it might be worthwhile.

Can't sleep...again! Seems if I take a nap, I can't sleep until two or three in the morning, but if I don't, I'm able to conk out about one.

Finished The Best American Mystery Stories 2003 the other day. I'll write more about it when my hand doesn't hurt so much. Let me say that I only hated one story. Out of twenty, that's pretty good.

Reading the 2000 book of the same series. I read a couple of the stories some time ago, but I don't remember when, so I guess some of it is getting re-read. Plan to read some New Yorker stories in the next few days as well.

Have submitted some work, a little each day, for the past few days. Most of these are to online publications. This isn't exactly what I want all the time, though some of these are really, really good. But this is easier. I can research and submit on the Net without printing and mailing and all the hassles. I wish more print publications accepted e-mail submissions, though I can see why many don't.

Fingers numbing. Typing too loud. Gotta stop for now.

Can't sleep. It's two something in the freakin' morning. I'm listening to Bill Evans Live at the Village Vanguard. Fine disc. Wish I could play it a little louder, but oh well.

Maymester is over. Glad of it. Did like my class. I think it went well.

Thought I'd ease into writing this week. Piddle around a bit with some stories and essays and then next week try to get back to the novel that was started last summer. Have stumbled partial drafts of two essays and started a draft of a story. The story will have Eddie Pacer, speaker and protagonist of the mystery I am writing, as one of its characters. This will be in third person going between the killer and the investigator (Pacer).

Finished Block's Hit Man a couple days ago. Really liked it. Each chapter is a short story, and the episodic tale works. Very enjoyable as a read. Some stories bothered me, but I think that was on a personal level. I didn't like some of what Keller (protagonist) does. But he's a hired killer, so how much of him should I like. But maybe that's the point. Block makes him a real person and I DO like him at times. I think this is a strength. I'm interested in Keller and not just to see what he will do next. Not as dark as the Scudder books and certainly not as light as the Burgler stories, this may be Block at his most philosophical. Certainly one of the better Block books I have read so far. I had intended to wait a bit for the second in the series, but I may change my mind.

Have been reading The Best American Mystery Stories 2003. I'm up to the story by Joyce Carol Oates. So far, I've only really disliked one of the stories. I'll probably write more when I have finished the whole book.

Well, time to go for now. Happy reading!

Listening to: Chris Potter. (More specifically, I'm listening to a playlist on my computer of sax jazz.)

Finished grading papers this afternoon. Hoped to finish yesterday, but happy to not have them hanging over my head tomorrow. Have the last week of the maymester pretty much planned out, so hopefully the grading is all I have to worry about. Fifteen of the original nineteen left. Seems to be a pretty good class, and I sure could use one.

Alex had a tournament today. They dropped two of three games, but they played hard and I'm pretty proud of them. Good kids these are. Go you might Sugar and Spice!

Finished Steve Martin's Shopgirl on Friday. I liked it a lot, but want to reserve more specific comments on the novella until Angela has had a chance to read it. For some reason, I'm very interested in her opinion of this book.

Started Lawrence Block's Hit Man. I'm in the fourth story/chapter and so far like it. The main character, Keller, is a hired killer, and we get to see him in not necessarily a positive light, but certainly a human one. I have been interested in writing about characters the people usually write off as inhuman (not always killers), and so this sort of story intrigues me. I also like the idea of writing a novel so that the chapters are stand alone stories. (This was a device I may have first seen in Walter Mosely's series involving Socrates Fortlow.) I think I will likely read the sequel to this one when I am done. If it isn't good study work for me, it certainly will be entertaining. Even when Block's books don't knock my socks off, I'm not disappointed.

And now the mighty Coltrane blesses us with his "Song of Praise." So I suppose it's time to get back to reading.

Doing a little writing as my students do research.

Why the blame game, particularly with educators? So many teachers are willing to just write off a person because of behavior that is not acceptable or because they haven't figured out a way to solve it. They often pick one answer and assume that if their "methods" or "strategy" doesn't fix it, then there is nothing that can be done. Further, many teachers seem to just do what comes easy: blame the parent.

I am a parent and a teacher, and I am well aware that both have influence on a young person. But there is too much damn oversimplification when things are not working and I am seeing that many children are hurt in the process of adults working to shift some of the responsibility off of themselves.

It is no wonder Jesus said that one must be like a child to enter the kingdom of God.

On another note, I downloaded all but one song (ironically the title track) of Jack DeJohnette's Parallel Realities. I really love it. I like DeJohnette, but I think it the combination of his playing and Metheny's presence that really make me take notice. And happy day! I found the ECM rarum edition of DeJohnette (and Metheny and Bill Frisell) at the library yesterday. Much good stuff to listen to for awhile. (I already have all the Metheny stuff from other discs, but I’ll enjoy this as a collection.

Finished The Burglar On the Prowl. It isn’t great, but I did enjoy it. Bernie's adventures are a wonderful escape. Perhaps I’ll post a more detailed review later. Perhaps not. I’m reading Steve Martin's Shopgirl now. Hope to finish it by the end of the week. I want to spend the weekend on other reading.

That's all for now.

Written May 17, 2004.

Watched the series finale of Frasier the other night. There were tons of cliches in there: dog eating the wedding ring, cannon going off every time, the name of the married couple is mentioned, pregnant woman having the baby in a place not expected (with the two "doctors" not capable of real assistance), the show ending with the main character heading off to find the love of his life and a "new start." But I really enjoyed the program. I found myself laughing even when things were obvious. I had lost interest in the show as a whole some time back, probably after Niles and Daphne finally "found" each other. It was still okay, but I suppose it had lost its charm, and I think my family was interested in some other show that was on another network. (For the life of me, I can’t think of what it was, and I should chide myself for my laziness.)

But near the end, I have to admit, I cried. Frasier recited one of my very favorite poems, Tennyson’s "Ulysees." That poem always gets me. I have trouble teaching it sometimes because I always feel I have to read it, and my voice cracks just little each time. Frasier begins saying it to his family and friends and then the scene fades to him at the station reading it to his radio audience. And there I am in my living room bawling, my twins looking at me and wondering what’s wrong.

Listening to: three Lyle Mays cds shuffling on my computer. I like all his solo work, but I think Fictionary is probably my favorite. Terrific piano trio in the vein of some of Mays’ own influences. One track is called "Bill Evans," and it seems appropriate. Street Dreams and Lyle Mays are enjoyable, though I might think so because there are some hints of that Metheny sound in there. But not so much to make me think it is a clone; just enough perhaps to help me see just how much of an influence Mays has on the songwriting of the group recordings. I really like Solo: Improvisations for Expanded Piano. I feared Solo would remind me too much of Keith Jarrett (not that this would be terrible), but it did not. I bought it the summer it came out, and listened to it a lot in my hot car. The only think I don’t like about it is that some of the quiet moments are perhaps too quiet.

But Fictionary is my fave. I really don’t quite know how to describe a jazz album I like, and maybe I don’t have to. (A friend told me once that I didn’t have to understand jazz, just enjoy it.) I only really listened to this disc a few months ago, but I know that it already is one of those that seems right no matter what my "mood" is. It is strong where it should be, subtle where it needs to be. Of course the disc isn’t hurt by having Jack DeJohnette on drums and Marc Johnson on bass.

That reminds me: I need to get some DeJohnette for my collection. Downloaded "Cantaloupe Island" and something else a few months ago. Have a disc of him with Metheny and I think Dave Holland (what a fine band that is!). Noticed he has something new out.

The Metheny group, I read, is working on a new studio disc. That would make my summer even better!


blog written May 14, 2004

Listening to: my daughter practice her violin. Was listening to Bruce Hornsby.

Reading Block's The Burgler on the Prowl. A little over a hundred pages into it. So far, I don't love it as much as others in the series, but I think it is getting better. Found paperback first of Steve Martin's Shopgirl. I think I'll read that next. I hear it it will be made into a movie.

One week into the Maymester. Looks like I have a pretty good class. Graded first set of major papers and the second set comes Monday. I am enjoying myself more than I thought I would, but I am very much looking forward to the summer.

Speaking of which, I may have written this already, but I am hoping to spend at least an hour each morning writing and after a day of walking, reading, and playing with the kids, another hour in the evening editing past drafts. If I don't have to do too much other stuff, then I think I can get something accomplished.

Looking into buying a house. Yea! Don't know if we'll manage it this summer, but we've taken the first step.

I am thinking that I will get more blogs done if I write them first on the word processor and block them here. Have so much to learn about computers. At any rate, hope to say a thing or two about Nick Berg's tragic death and the last episode of Frasier.

Enjoy the day!

Listening to: Ken Burns Jazz: Miles Davis (specifically, "So What"). Today's poem: "Photograph of My Father In His Twenty-Second Year" by Raymond Carver. Some of my students are writing about his "Cathedral." I wonder if any will see something connecting both.

Twins came out fine. Christina even made it to her art show last night. Was nice, but had to stand a long time. She was tired, but just when I thought I needed to take her home, someone would come and admire her paintings and she would jump up and down happily. I think she needed the nice strokes.


Thought this morning about being forty. I didn't like it. The actual age isn't the problem, but the feeling in many ways one isn't much different than at 30 or even 14. Sigh. Then there is the sense that certain accomplishments one hopes for (forget about dreams) might not really happen. But what do I know? I'm probably just tired.

Gotta go. Have coffee to drink and class to teach.

Listening to: Nothing. The kids are asleep, twins on the couch, and it's late. But I've been going between Herbie Hancock and Dave Brubeck much of the day.

Twins have surgery in the morning to get tubes out. They have been looking forward to it. What do kids know? Tonya has been a wreck about it. She helps me worry.

Somewhat productive weekend. Got some school work done. Got some of the place cleaned. Was going to avoid television this weekend, but when that plan got altered, I didn't feel bad about watching the Mavs whip up on the Kings.

Alex's game got postponed. That means if it doesn't rain next weekend, we'll have two games to go to. Three little girls spent much of the weekend at Grandma's. Angela's show wrapped up. Bummed, I didn't get to see it.

Had to move the Villager because a sticker's out of date and the the apartment is nuts about stuff like that. I haven't been driving it, but it is crazy. I've been through too much for that blasted vehicle. Will probably sell it.

Friday got a rejection notice for my story "Fixing the Sandwich." Guess it bums me a little, but I'm okay. Need to find time to update my spreadsheet about what I have out and what has been rejected. Need also to submit some work to a few places that don't have email submissions. While sick I could take advantage of the net. Now that I'm working regular hours, I haven't had time to keep up with all those details or to seek out those places.

Need to work on the workspace here at home. Can't type long without the carpel tunnel getting me. Not good for a guy who plans to spend his summer writing.

Listening to: KNTU over the net. Listened to Weather Report's Heavy Weather in the library earlier.

Today's poem: "The Return" by Anna Ahkmatova.

Students working on research papers. Some things slowing down. Calm before next week's storm. Sorry for the cliche.

At the student art sale, I bought a new coffee cup the other day to add to my boring little collection. My favorite color is blue, but something told me to go with something with some earth tones. The cup I purchased is taller and a tiny bit thinner than most coffee cups and has a blue ring near the top that blends nicely into the greenish-brown-black of the majority of the cup. Nice big handle.

Why does this matter? Don't know. Just thought I'd write about it. I get a sense of peace/pleasure from such simple things as a nice cup of coffee and I suppose the cup is as much a part of the overall experience as the music I'm listening to or the book I'm reading or what I'm writing.

Speaking of reading, I skipped my quiet time to prepare for class this morning. Have done too much of that lately and so I want to take care of it now while I have an opportunity. Enjoy the day!

Listening to: Patrick O'Hearn, Mix-Up (I don't know why).

Most of my students are in the library this week doing research for their final essays. This gives me some time to catch up on a few other things.

World Lit class is covering Crime and Punishment, one of the greatest novels of all time. This is my first time to teach it. My class seems enthusiastic, but we are going so slow. I don't think we will cover anything else before the end of the semester.

Recovery going fine, though I have had some fatigue and soreness the past couple of days. I can't quite account for this.

Went to the Bone Star Jam last Saturday and saw Kansas and some local bands. Was really fun. Kansas played about three songs I haven't heard them do in concert before including all of "Magnum Opus". Sound was great and though we were pretty far back, we could see most of what we wanted. Alex went with Brad, Nikki, and I, and I think she had a great time.

It was a big weekend for her. She had a retreat and soccer game (they won 3-1, go Sugar and Spice!), and then the concert. The next day was her First Solemn Communion. Much thanks to Jenn and Donnie for coming out for that one. Then she had to take pictures for Girls Scouts. Last night, her strings class performed at the Eisemann. Mucho merci buckets to my wife for being willing the chaperone that!

Looking forward to summer. I like what's left of my classes and enjoy my students, but I need a break. My body is breaking down and I need to recharge my spiritual and emotional batteries. I would like to work out a schedule where I write for an hour or more in the morning, spend the day with the family, and spend an hour or so each night doing revision of some novels I've already written. If all goes well, I could have at least a new novel and my e-book on writing finished (at least in good drafts) I could revisions of two novels ready to submit for publication. All before classes start in August.

Read X.J. Kennedy's Dark Horses some time ago. Wish I'd written a review while I still had it fresh in my memory. Mr. Kennedy writes formal verse or poems that build from traditiona forms. They are humerous often (sometimes dark and sardonic). In "Emily Dickinson Leave a Message to the World," the poetess tell us: "Though often I had dialed adn rung/The Bastion of the Bee --/The Answer I had hungered for/Was seldome Home -- to me--" Some of Kennedy's poems are tranquil and as the cover says, "meditative." Note the following from: "Staring into a River Till Moved by It:" "Inert, your hand dropped from my hand./Unbudged. rocks in the stream stood/And as we dragged our shoes to land/The drydocked trees raised hulls of wood." Anyway, I liked the book and recommend it particularly to anyone who enjoys rhymed verse. Actually I recommend it also to those poets who can't seem to believe anything creative can be done with traditional forms.

Have been reading a poem a day to my students (well, most days I have) in honor of National Poetry Month. Don't know how the students enjoy it, but it has been much fun for me. Trying to mostly use poets who are alive and still writing (though I did begin with Thomas Merton's "For My Brother: Missing In Action, 1943." Have read from Eliot's "The Waste Land" too.). I'm thinking I need to do Anna Akhmatova soon, and perhaps a Carver poem since some of my students are writing about his story "Cathedral." Perhaps "Photograph of my Father."

I went to the library the other day to look for a book, and as often happens (particularly when I do not find what I want), I ended up checking out three books. I wanted to read a few volumes of poetry. One of these was Things of This World by Richard Wilbur, which won the Pulitzer and National Book Award in 1957. For some reason I had trouble getting into the book. I'm not entirely sure why. Possibly I was more distracted in reading than I have been in the previous weeks when reading poetry. Perhaps there were allusions I didn't get and that threw me. I thought at first that I was bothered by how formal most of the poems were, but actually one reason I have liked Wilbur at other times is his mastery of form. I guess that some of the poems felt dated. But that's no excuse. I think I should give the book another chance eventually. I started to get into it more toward the end (another reason that I think I may have been a bit distracted).

A poem that stood out to me was "Boy at the Window." I don't know that I "got it," but I liked the picture of the boy looking out sadly at a snowman and the snowman looking back sadly at the boy. (Just noticed that this poem is included in The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart. Interesting.)

Don't know that I'll get to the other two books. Still reading the Merton book and have also gotten another Merton book via interlibrary loan. We shall see.

Whew! Tired by the time the afternoon rolls around, but glad to be back. Trying to get caught up and read.

Realized that I subscribed to Poets and Writers, got one issue and have not received any since. Guess it is nasty letter writing time.

Well, tomorrow I'm back at school. Have missed my students, my colleagues, my office. Managed to get graded almost everything I had.

Finished the Grisham book. Wasn't going to read it because I didn't want to get back to school with an unfinished book on my hands. But I started and really got into it so I finished it yesterday. (The ironic thing is that once done, I had to have something to read, so I started rereading a book by Thomas Merton, Life and Holiness. I won't finish, of course, but I've already read it so I guess I don't mind.)

Okay, so here's an informal review of John Grisham's The Last Juror. I have enjoyed every Grisham novel I have read (have listened to a handful on audio tape). I'm a bit biased to books where legal matters are at the center, so one can take that for what it is worth. I have not yet read his mainstream novels, though I am certainly interested in doing so, particularly after reading this story and The Testament.

The Last Juror, set in 1970s Mississippi, is more than a legal thriller. It is a kind of cross between mystery and mainstream, slice of life novel. The narrator of the story is a young man who comes to work at a small, county newspaper and ends up as the paper's owner. Willie Traynor, shortly after writes the first profile of a black citizen, a woman named Callie Ruffin. After he reports about the trial of a notorious citizen (Danny Padgett) for the brutal rape and murder of a single mother, Traynor finds he is selling paper after paper, and making an extraordinary group of friends. Padgett is released from prison after serving nine years and Ford Country deal with a mysterious reign of terror.

What I like about the book. The story could have bogged down in the sleepiness of the rural area, but doesn't and does not resort to cheap tricks to keep the reader interested. The characters themselves are interesting and real. I am particularly grateful that Mr. Grisham has the guts to portray a Christian as a real person and one whose faith is not something to ridicule. Even if one doesn't agree or like everything Miss Callie says, it would be difficult to despise her religion. Grisham created another favorably drawn Christian in the missionary in The Testament. I hope more of this occurs. There is no preaching in Grisham's book, because there doesn't need to be. The "message," if there is one is clear and strong, but doesn't sacrifice good storytelling. A non-believer is likely to find the characters as interesting as people in different places in their spiritual lives. I also liked the fact that the person telling this story is not a lawyer (though there are certainly interesting lawyers here). The story encompasses more than those who are involved in the murder. As in the real world, these deaths affect everyone. So this is a story about many people.

What bugs me. Mostly the loose ends. One of Miss Callie's sons has disappeared. We find out why, but then we are suddenly told that he has contacted the narrator. The contact isn't part of the story, but just told to us. Then he returns, and though he is guarded, the person who most wants to hurt him simply disappears from the story. There are less important places where the narrative could use some tightening, but they do not detract from a good story.

Concern. I don' t want to give anything away, but I'm wondering why nearly every Grisham novel ends with the protagonist leaving his profession. Most of the characters leave the legal profession, and given their individual circumstances, I can see why. But here is a guy who spend nine years becoming a part of life in town and building a successful business. I can see why he gets "tired" and maybe fed up. However, I still wonder. If I could interview Grisham, I would have to ask him about this.

Okay. There it is. I strongly recommend the book, but had to get my reservations off my chest.

Forgot to mention the other day when I was rambling about the books I've been reading that I also read a novel by Stephen Lawhead and his son Ross entitled City of Dreams. This is the first of a trilogy of books that are based, as best as I can tell, on a rock opera and a series of comic books/graphic novel. Ross Lawhead is the penciler (sp) for the comics. I have liked every book I have read by Stephen Lawhead. His Byzantium is not only the best historical novel I've encountered, but the most fascinating story of a spiritual journey published by a living author.

City of Dreams is obviously part of the gospel story told for a modern audience. The main character is Alex Hunter, an agent trying to find the killer of a prophet named Washer John who is the cousin of power spiritual leader named Joshua Jones. The story, in many ways, is a typical thriller. Hunter is dedicated to justice to completing his mission, to redeeming his own good name and making up for past mistakes. He doesn't know who to trust, but relies on his wits more than gizmos to survive and find his way. And the narrative is fast-paced, never dull. Even when I feel like I know where this thing is going, I don't mind. The ride is exciting.

What troubles me is the ending. I know this is the first of three books, but the story seems to end without closure. One expects at least a couple more chapters. One thing that makes Stephen Lawhead's book so good is that even in the midst of a series (and few of his novels are not part of a series) one gets the sense that the story stands on its own even while you are primed for the next book.

Okay, I've rambled on far too much. Time to get busy on real work.

Recovering after surgery and trying to take advantage of Spring Break. Good thing my doctor says I have to rest. I'm too nerdy and broke to actually do anything.

I have written, during this period of illness/injury a few poems. I wanted to post a couple lines from each here and tell a bit of the story. However, the pieces are in pieces, so to speak. Some are on a floppy I can't access (my A drive is kaput at home and I can't go anywhere to use one). Some are not in a shape to be seen. Some are in fragments and notes. Can/Should only use the computer a little bit each day.

I am terrible at this resting thing.

Working on an essay that was prompted by a doctor who didn't see me an entire weekend he was on call and I was in the hospital. Would also like to get at least a draft of a short story, but who knows. Grading papers and tests as I have energy. Working on some "lists" of different things that I might post to my webpage.

Have done a lot of reading. Well, not a lot in the sense that it is going non-stop, but much more than usual since it is one thing I can handle for long periods of time. Read The KGB Bar Book of Poems, which was interesting in that it isnot only an anthology of mostly interesting poetry, but contains photos and anecdotes by some of the writers about good and bad experiences doing/attending poetry readings. Read several issues of The New Yorker. Have a John Grisham novel my wife got me. Don't know if I want to start it just yet.

Have made a couple of fixes to the webpage. Have submitted poems, stories, and an essay to a few ezines. Glad the Internet has made this process a bit easier at times.

Did I mention I'm not real good at this resting thing?

Well, I thought I was back. When I was back, I was trying to catch up. And then I was not back. And now, I'm home not working because of neck surgery. I can only use a computer a little each day.

Being hurt sucks, but this was/is the worst of all. I actually have to do a lot of nothing and this isn't easy for me. I will miss tons of work and though things will be okay in the long run, I really feel for my students. I have been blessed this semester with some terrific classes and people, but it does seem the good suffer most. (So why is so much happening to me?) Heh heh.

I'm back! Finally!

Nearing the end of the second week of classes. Of course, it isn't a full week for me because of the King holiday and I had jury duty on Tuesday. That was interesting...sort of. It took half a day to decide to choose someone else. Oh well, that's the system. I wish I had had more time to actually watch the trial. Stuff like that is interesting to me. And I often find good examples to use in class.

Arts Expo meeting today. Things seem to be moving along. Looking forward to the events, though it will be hectic. Look forward to meeting Walt McDonald in particular. Have been reading one of his book, available online. Hope that come payday I can buy a couple of his most recent.

Trying to get back into a more regular mode of submitting work for publication. Realized today that I have missed the deadlines for most of the book and chapbook contests I wanted to enter. Must be more diligent.

Last weekend, I did manage to finish revising "Except The Weather," the story the pretty much ruined my summer writing. I had revised and edited it before, but the disc that had the most recent version had been damaged. Now, I have to see if I can find a magazine for a story that is some 8,300 words long. Also did some editing on four other short stories. This feels pretty good. I figure that if I have five to ten decent stories that I can keep busy submitting, then I am in good shape. I'd like to get at least that many essays as well.

My thought is that I should have these twenty pieces and a few dozen poems that I can regularly submit. That way I will feel less pressure on that end, I presume, and perhaps spend more of my writing time on a novel. I hope that works. Everytime I think I've carved out time for writing, I get distracted (and sometimes distract myself).

Anyway, I feel pretty good that I have got these going. Now comes the work of finding places for them.

That's all for now.

Have a set of papers to do and syllabi to write. Yee hah!

Thinking of Raymond Carver and listening to ProjecKt Two...a little Space Groove. The two are not necessarily connected. Thinking about how he said somewhere that he wrote short stories because domestic life did not allow him the time to write long pieces.

Gray day here. Looks like winter.

Read something interesting the other day: "While a satisfied justice is an unavoidable event, a satisfied revenge is an eternal impossibility" (George MacDonald). Something to think about, world.


Been reading Paterson. So far, okay. Wish I could spend more time each day reading.

Well, stuff to do.

Last week of Wintermester starts tomorrow. Reporting week at the same time. Getting ready to lose sleep.

Trying to decide whether I should try an e-book route with a couple of things.

Got furniture installed in my office right before Christmas. Now I have to organize the dang office.

Hoping I can get an hour each day to write and maybe a few minutes on the weekends to blog.

Gonna get back to the game now.

Making changes to the website (again!). Have pretty much decided that I just don't have the time to continue updating it with new work, particularly when I am not sure when I will have material worth reading. Also, I have noted that a number of publications consider posting to a personal website as a previous publication. That would certainly hurt my chances for other publication.

Today is Alexandria's birthday. Happy day, sweet potato!

Students in Wintermester class taking Midterm today. I am enjoying the class, but very much look forward to some time off. Hope to take a few walks.

The Michael Neal Morris Webpage
Just working on this...ignore...sure do need to change this site and to blog. Blah Blah...
Have deleted reading blog...will bring it back when I get a chance.

Man, it's been too long. And here I am with changes to make to the website...again. But I'm too tired and have too much to do. Argh!

My short story "I've Been Killed Before" has finally been officially published in The GW Review. My contributor's copy arrived today. That is a bit exciting, mostly because I have not published as much prose as I would like. Of course, to keep me humble I suppose, a rejection slip also came in the mail this afternoon. Life, perhaps, isn't so bad.

Classes are going pretty well so far. I really like my students Some minor administrative problems (bookstore not having enough books, clamg SRC="BagpipeLessons.com.GIF" BORDER=0 HEIGHT=72 WIDTH=400 ALT=BagpipeLessons.com>




Back to BagpipeLessons.com

Back at school and having a grand old time! Lots of little things making things difficult, but it is nice to be back with students again after the long summer. (Of course the heat has stayed!)

Good news! Three poems have been accepted for publication. I think all three are for online zines, which is exciting because that's a bit new for me.

Haven't written too much lately. Have made changes to the site. I have decided it would be best to keep samples of published work and only a handful of new pieces. I have set myself a goal to write at least five new poems, one new story, and one new essay to post on the site. How that will work with the novel, I don't know. Perhaps I've set my sights too high. For the moment, I don't care.

In other news, I'm trying to my ailing car fixed. God's grace has kept it going. Recently received some unexpected funds that will help this along (Praise Jesus and thank you Granddad!)

Well, better go. Enjoy the day!

Well, I finished the story finally. It is, for now, called "Except the Weather" and is just over 22 pages long. Yikes. I have not posted it to the website because it is really really rough and because I may hate it. Perhaps I'm just a bit prejudiced because it took so much of my time. Also, it dredged up some memories (not in the story itself) that have made me pause to think.

So then I didn't really feel like writing for a couple of days and whined about it in my journal. Then last night, I started making some notes for the e-book I wanted to write about writing (this for my students). I realized that I had been putting that off and that I'll be back in school in less than a month. I'm am looking to put together a short (hopefully) book that is part how-to, part encouragement, part my philosophy about the art and importance of writing. Many of the "chapters" will be made up of handouts and presentation materials I've already done for my class. Anyway, I had hoped to have something put together for my students when classes began, so I could put it on the class webpages and refer to it through out the semester. Today I wrote about five pages on it. I worked on an introduction, a chapter about the general practice of reading and writing and part of a chapter about active reading. It is all draft stuff, really rough, but it felt good to get it out.

The good news is that I also wrote over 700 words on the novel, finishing the eighth chapter. I was beginning to feel that I might not get back to it. I even jotted a couple notes about the next couple chapters. Now, if I can only get back to a regular schedule!

But alas! Tomorrow we go to Six Flags for the twins' birthday. But I'm not going to be discouraged, at least not today.

I have been a having a bit of frustration writing lately. I probably have written more this summer than last, but I just am not where I want to be. I was writing each morning on the new novel, but got sidetracked. Sadly, much of the writing was by hand and I still need to type it in. But somewhere in the middle, perhaps because I was getting stuck on the novel, I started working on a short story. This dang thing should have been drafted in a day or two, but I'm still on the tenth page and haven't finished the draft. So I'm a bit crazy trying to get it done.

Have been writing a lot by hand and typing it in later. This is good, as I said before, for revision, but is lousy for time.

Speaking of time, I need to get back to it.

Well, it has been over a month since my last blog. We finally have a computer at home and so I am hoping I can be more productive. Have written most days, but much has been my hand. The means I have to type in what I write. That has been great for revision, but tough on the carpel tunnel.

Have been working mostly on a new novel. I'm in chapter eight of the draft, but have run into some snags. Things were steady but very slow for a couple of days and I ran into the some conflicts with my writing schedule. So I haven't really been back to the thing for several days. In the interim -- and I suspect this is a problem -- I decided to write a short story based on what my family calls "The alligator story." Thought I could whip out a draft in an afternoon, but the problems with the hands made it very difficult. Now I have typed what I had done by hand and I'm up about the ninth page, but have still not gotten to the alligator itself. I suspect I will have to take a great deal of time to revise this story.

I did revise a story and it should be posted to the site pretty soon. (Tried to update the site today, but only managed to upload the darn thing.) It is called "The Box" for now. I really think it should have another title, but so far nothing. My wife likes the title. The story is one of several I want to write about my Wilson Bell character during the time before my novel about him is set.

Have been trying to be very aggressive about submitting work for publication. Last week I probably sent, either via email or regular post, a couple dozen poems and several stories and essays. Got news today three haiku of mine are now on the web at Emoments. That's pretty exciting in that it really is a first to me (though a haiku sequence of mine --not all that good-- was published several years ago) and I like the stuff I've read on this site.

Well, better go for now. Peace. "He who will not work shall not eat" (Saint Paul to the Thessalonians).

Last week, I finished up Maymester and now I'm home (mostly), trying to write each morning. So far this week, I have been able to reach my goal of at least 1,000 words per day. I've started drafting a novel, a mystery.

Just posted three new poems to the website: "Shock," "Abandon," and "Cottonwood Beetles."

Trying to do some reading (see A Circle of Readers weblog). Hopefully will crank out a publishable essay or two before too long.

This morning, I left the apartment without my bag and so the reports I needed to return to my students are still in the living room, as is the disk I saved my school work on and the ones with my most recent writing. Great socks!

Yesterday, I submitted five poems to one place and a short story to another. Did this online. Wonder when this will be standard. Realized while doing this, that I haven't done the work of submitting work in quite some times. A couple years ago, I made it my new year's resolution to submit something at least once a week. But I've obviously fallen off. Maybe I should amend that to once a day.

Got a nice email the other day from GW Review saying they have accepted my story "I've Been Killed Before" pending a few "close edits." They had about eight cuts they wanted to make. All but one, I felt, made the story much better, and the other didn't hurt the story, so I was quite thrilled. I wrote back immediately to say YES YES YES and THANKS SO MUCH. Still waiting for the reply.

This morning toyed with the idea of collecting poems (and maybe stories) that I wrote before graduate school and putting them in a chapbook to be submitted. I looked through some dusty contributor's copies and found seven pieces that didn't suck so much that I would be ashamed to see them in print again. Certainly (if I can find the notebooks and disks that I saved them on/in), I would be able to find maybe ten or so more that might make a nice small collection. Probably should do the same with pieces written during grad school, but I'm still trying to find a home for them and may end up using some in a longer book. Either way, I'll likely make a pdf file of what I have and post it on the site for the world to ignore.

Crapburger! The blog I just wrote disappeared when I posted it. Now I have to do it all over again. Oh well, practice makes less than imperfect.

Okay, I changed my mind. I went ahead and posted the poems. They need, perhaps a bit of work, and I would like to add some photos to some of them, but here they are:
"On Violence"
"To an unseen bird"
Chill
Enjoy!

Finally! I am (almost) caught up with grading. Has been a bit hectic, especially with the carpel tunel and having to write many of the responses by hand before typing them. Well, hectic isn't the word. Slow is. But going okay.

Have written three poems lately. Struggled with the sonnet, so I wrote a fifteen line poem with twelve syllable lines last Wednesday mostly during Alex's soccer practice. The tentative title is "Chill." Thursday or so I wrote a much freer piece, so far entitled "To an unseen bird." Some time (can't remember when) I finished a draft of the sonnet, right now called "On Violence." I probably should post these, but I think I would like to work on them a bit more. If nothing happens in a week or so, I may post them to the website.

Am looking forward to writing more this summer. I'm almost too anxious about it, worried that I won't be able to after all the planning.

Realized that two works, "Missing" and "Singing Each to Each," that were published in last year's The Alternative have been published on the Internet. I need to update this link on my publications page. For now, readers can link here.

Not a very productive weekend. Had to miss my doctor's appointment Friday, and then just couldn't get much going. I suppose I'm tired from the long week.

I did work on a sonnet. Wrote nine lines, eight I am happy with. Think I may want to write mostly sonnets for awhile.

Listening to King Crimson's new disc. Not sure what I think yet.

My writing is too fragmented these days. Need to be more disciplined about it. Do it at particular time or times of the day. Have noticed that just when I try to impose a sense of order on life (particularly writing, reading, prayer, exercise), something or someone gets in the way and I have to change the plans. This should not upset me, but it usually does. One of the keys to success in life is that one be flexible. But order is also important.

Have been thinking of a series of essays and prose poems that might take advantage of this fragmentation. Just getting down the time to write...sigh. Why complain? I often waste the time I have to do just that.

"Guess we'll repeat the chorus" (King Crimson).

...ok. I have written a couple of haiku and a poem called "Love/Work/War". Yesterday jotted a few lines the could be the lyric for a song. Something about guilt and cutting off hands and all. Who knows what will come of that?

Now, I have to wear splints at night for the carpal (sp?) tunnel. That's with the C-PAP machine. I probably look like some kind of creature all hooked up. Have to get home. More in the morning I hope.

Well, I haven't done too much writing lately. Maybe I've been too busy catching up with grading papers and tests and whatnot (It's always the whatnot that gets in the way.). I suppose I've jotted down a thing or two. Have to check....

Craziness. Too much to do and far too little time. And no matter what, I always find people upset that I didn't drop the freaking world for them.

Have posted a new poem, "Obelus."

Trying to pick some poems with a Texana theme for the Arts Exposition. I think my friend and colleague Bob Erwin will actually read them/it.

Trying to be better organized. Not terribly motivated.

Wow! It seems like ages since I blogged. School and work and life just seem to be a bit hectic right now. The semester is going fine, but I'm still catching up on some things, and haven't had much chance to write.

Have posted an essay, "Constructing Nature." Keep wondering about my essays and publication. I have recently had a lot of ideas for essays and want to write several, but that just takes that much more time away from other writing.

Who am I kidding? If I am writing, I am happy. Must keep writing, no matter what the genre. I haven't even written much in my personal journal lately.

Got a rejection email from Amarillo Bay for my poems "Lamp," "To A Fleeing Hawk," "Going Hence," "Through The Drizzle," and "The Artist Still." Editor Jerry Craven did say he'd like to see more of my work, however, so that is very encouraging. Maybe it isn't true, but I reason that since editors are usually overloaded with writing they would rather not read, they must like something if they actually encourage you to submit again, even while they reject what you have already sent. Bottom line: I need to carve some time to find good pieces to submit. Just trying to get work published is a full time job, and I feel lucky if I can make one submission a week. With email and online submissions now possible in so many places, this should be a breeze, but alas, no.

Have posted a new essay to the website. Right now, it is titled "Pageants," but I would like to explore ideas for a different title. It is about not just Christmas, but the whole season for us. I enjoyed, to some extent, writing it, but I have no idea if it will have a place anywhere.

Also posted a new poem, a sonnet, about the war of words between politicians. When will people wake up and see screwed up this situation is?

Wintermester ends today. Spring semester begins Monday. Much work to do. So why not blog?

Again, I have had to wait awhile to post anything here. Computer at home is very down and I couldn't access the net with the laptop I checked out of the library. Oh well.

Have done some writing. Posted today a new story, "The Last Bottle," and two new poems: "Approaching The Hawk" and "The Artist Still." Also started an archive. Pretty soon I will have to take some works off the main pages.

Started a personal essay about Christmas. Maybe I can finish it this weekend. It reads a bit like prose poem. Don't know if I could get it published. Guess it could show up in a book somewhere. Don't know. Got a feeling some people I know will be upset about it anyway. But then again, lots of people that would be don't read what I write. So what am I worried about?

Been pretty busy with Wintermester. Like my class. Didn't give myself enough of a break during the holiday though.

Been reading, of course. Finished Poodle Springs, by Raymond Chandler and Robert B. Parker. I think I read another Parker book (and early one) before that. Have been plowing my way though Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman. Good, but since I'm taking notes, it is taking me a bit longer. Also started my first P.D. James novel, Devices and Desires (or the other way around). Other stuff too has been read since my last posting, but I'm out of time to write about it for now.

It has been awhile since I posted anything here. The end of the semester got very hectic and now I'm into the second day of Wintermester. I have done some reading and writing in my personal journal. A couple of poems have also been written. I can't remember what I've posted on the web site lately.

I started a new novel a couple of weeks ago and have not been able to get back to it lately. Perhaps I will post the first chapter when it is written. The central character is a college professor (okay, so that's not orginal...give me a break). The case involves an adjunct professor and the student he's sleeping with who is murdered. I have a brief outline of what I want to do. I really thought this might be a story, but already, I think it is going to shape up to be much longer. Probably a short novel.

Problem is finding time to write. Can't do it even at the times I'm alone. Most of my alone time is in the car. Besides, I've been pretty busy with classes. But a couple of times (last Monday, for example) I have had time, but no motivation. Ack!

Today -- for the time being -- I have both. We shall see.

Last weekend I wrote two poems, "Lamp," and "A prayer for focus." I have posted the first, but not the second. I probably will not post the prayer. I guess I like it as, but I fear it is a bit too cliched for publication, except maybe in a religious magazine. Also, it came directly from a quiet time, and so I'm not sure of its literary value. It may be just fine, but I need more distance to get perspective.

Also last weekend, I did not take any school work home. Mostly read. I think I came back from the weekend a bit more refreshed and ready to tackle my students' papers. I'm sure most of them would like to get work back faster, but I want to do a good job reading and responding to them.

I read a Lawerence Block novel, A Dance At The Slaughterhouse, one from his Scudder series. I had read Eight Million Ways To Die a couple days before. Both are very brutal. When I finished Slaughterhouse, I walked around and had to start a new book right away. The book was fine, but its brutality was so great, I didn't want to leave it with me long. Started Tanner On Ice, my first reading from that series. Of course now it is the middle of the week, when reading goes a bit more slowly.

Got my C-PAP machine a couple days ago and already it seems to have had an effect on my reading. I can't see through the dang thing and so reading in bed is nearly impossible. I do think it will help my reading in the long run because I will be more alert and awake. That much I can feel already. Hopefully this will also go a long way into improving me as a writer. Too often I am unable to write or focus clearly because of fatigue. I hope I can look back a year from now and see that my output is greater and better, not only because I can write more, but because I can better concentrate and judge what I do write. This is necessary if I am to revise well at all.

Well, this is a pickle. My kids are disappointed because I am not going trick-or-treating with them. But I got called to sub in the Writing Center at CCCCD and I really need the money. Sure they'll probably understand, if they remember, when they are older. But in the meantime....

Posted a new poem, tentatively titled "Packing Up," a couple of days ago. Still working on the essay. I think with some grace I might finish a draft and post it in a few days. Hopefully before the weekend.

Brad came to visit me at work last night and after chatting with him decided that I have to use my "other" work time to read and write. That means I'll have to work twice as hard at work to make sure I don't bring much home. (Of course tonight I need to finish making a test and I'm doing this instead...go figure.)

When I will find time and energy to try to get my work published, I just don't know.

Need to go for now...duty calls.

Typed and posted the two poems I mentioned yesterday. Titled the sonnet "A Maturing Rain" though I said yesterday that I didn't want to use the word rain in the title. The other poem is called "Through The Drizzle." I'm not too fond of that title either, but it is okay for now. Before the shine of newness wears off, I better try to find a place for them this weekend.

Well, I finally finished the sonnet I started two weeks ago. That is, I finished a draft of it. Don't have a title yet. I started it when I was sitting on the porch a couple of weeks ago watching the rain and waiting for my wife to come home from something. It was raining today and some last weekend, so I guess I kept adding lines as I mused on it. I don't want to put "sonnet" or "rain" in the title. I'm afraid the latter word will keep it from being read because it might seem too cliche, and I don't like to announce when I write a sonnet (or any form piece). I prefer to have the reader discover that as she/he goes along, if at all. I figure if I have written well, it won't matter that the poem is anything but what it is.

While waiting for my World Lit students to finish a group project today, I wrote another poem, a short, so far untitled piece. Part of it is about rain also, but some is about the groping and struggling we do in life. I used some rhyme in this, but it is not a form piece. I guess I am hoping it is a bit jazzy, though it may be too short for that. I am hoping that the rhyme will make it musical, like jazz, but without a sing-songy effect.

Would have posted them to my website tonight, but I forgot the bring home the notepad I wrote them on, so they are not typed up yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Still reading the Block novel. Can't get as much reading done during the week, but if I have to work this weekend, I'm sure I'll finish it then. Trying to keep things I have to grade at work when I can. Maybe that will help me to write a bit more of my own stuff at night. That is, if I can keep away from all the other things that distract me. Go Stars!

We'll see.

Starting to wonder about this writing thing. Been praying that it won't have to be a hobby for the rest of my life. Problem is I can't get to writing consistently. And I am not sure why that is. I could blame it on lots of things: too little energy at the end of the day; too often behind at school; too many hockey games and football games to watch. But the reality is that I just haven't made it enough of a habit as it has been at a few times in my past. Ok, a couple. But it is my life. I need to do this.

Finished reading a pretty good memoir on Monday. It is The Way Home by Henry Dunow. Much of it is about him coaching his son's Little League Baseball team. Much is about his relationship to his own father. I found the story quite interesting and moving in parts. I was struck by the growth he had over the course of the season and by the pain expressed about his father. Maybe I'll write a review of it or maybe just more about it here later.

Started a Lawrence Block book, Eight Million Ways to Die, a Matt Scudder mystery. I'm about 85 or so pages in. Maybe I'll write more about it later.

Back to writing about writing. I have about a half dozen projects in my head and I just can't seem to get going on any of them, even though some are already started. What I need is consistency. That is, I need to consistently write every day. A set amount of time or a set number of words or pages. Something that tells all the doubting little voices in me that this is something I DO, something I AM, not just something I think about and teach when I have the time.

Problem is, I can find the time, but not the same time everyday. And I think that may be what I'll have to do if I want any fruit to come from this.

Have been so behind that I have not been able to do much writing except in my personal journal. And now my home pc is acting up, making it hard to type.

Started a sonnet over 10 days ago. It may take more days to finish than it will have lines.

Yesterday, I was starting to go to the bathroom and once again, at an institution primarily made up of adults, I found myself looking at a toilet that some damn morons had peed all over. All over and all around. This really really upsets me (dare I say, "pisses me off"?). Every time this happens, I want to shout obscenities and write a letter to the editor of the school paper or shoot off an email to the entire school. But I have to be reasonably good.

I did start thinking, "People who do this should be forced to wear a &%^)$#! diaper. And publicly!" Then I decided this was a good idea for an essay. So last night, I started to write. Nothing really organized, but that recommendation and a couple other things. Mostly ramblings to get me started. Got about 250 words. With a bit of grace, I'll do some prewriting and maybe flesh out a bit of a plan today, and if all goes really well, I'll write a real draft.

Would like to write some poetry. Lately every time I have an idea for something, I never get to it. Want also to write a couple of humorous songs. Have an idea about one tentatively titled, "It's not you, It's me" with the speaker using that common phrase to break up with someone, but twisting it around. Maybe a line like, "How were you to know I prefer women with hair?" or "I should have told you that bitching doesn't turn me on." Where is that dang guitar?

There is just not enough time for the cup of coffee in front of me and the Keith Jarrett tape behind me. Well, there is, but I seem to have spent too much of it goofing off. You'd think I'd learn my lesson by now, especially when I'm trying to encourage my own students to avoid things that get in the way of a good, working writing process. Oh well.

Yesterday, I gave up on Merton. Well, sort of. A couple days ago, I was reading the book I had and I realized that despite how wonderfully it edifies me, I wasn't getting anything in, and worse, I didn't really care. I spent all that time and energy on the book and I just gave up. Finally, I turned it in. I did check out another book by Merton, Contemplation in a World of Action, and I read the introduction and the first essay. I hope that I can be a bit more consistent with reading. Reading Merton gives me a strong sense that a kind of solitary, contemplative life is possible even for a guy with five kids and all the other "things" in my life that would seem to pull it apart. I suppose this is where that concept of time comes in. I may have much to do, but I do have more time than I take advantage of.

Of course, I sometimes don't have the energy. Or the will power. I had it, to some degree, in college. And even after college, I could write with some consistency. But lately, I find myself writing and talking about writing (and reading, damn it!) than actually doing it. This has got to stop.

More later. I have to go to class.

Well, I went to two doctors yesterday. One was a sleep specialist. I'll be doing one of those damn sleep studies soon and probably have to wear a freakin' machine on my head. But I am trying to be positive about it. Certainly there is something in all this to write about. An essay? A story? Don't know. I have a lot of anger about this (What else is new?...lol), and much of it is at myself, but I still have some for the medical community in general.

The other visit was to my regular doctor. We seem to agree that I feel better than I did a couple weeks ago and that the sleep study is going to be a good thing. Then I had the blood test. The woman who does this is very good. One hardly feels the prick of the needle. I sat in the chair and looked at a painting on the wall. It was a lake scene. There was a house with a large porch going all the way to the lake. Closer to the viewer was a little bench. Why it was at a lake I don't know, but I don't suppose it matters. I thought about how nice it would be to sit on that bench and look at the water, listening to its soft sounds and to the insects and creatures all around. All this, I think, helped me relax as the nurse drew my blood. I told her that everyone should look at that picture when getting blood, and she replied that most people don't care about paintings when that needle goes in. Oh well.

Classes seem to be going fine. I'm keeping up okay and I really like my students. They seem more energized than ever before. I wonder if that is because I took the summer off and come back much more refreshed (in some senses). Anyway, we have not had any major assignments, so I don't know how well I will keep up. I seem to do some things to reduce my work each semester and then add a couple more. Oh well, I need to get to the library.

Getting through the first week of classes. Very tired. I really like my students and I think this is going to be a good semester teaching-wise. But all the stuff of the first week is wearing me down.

Haven't written. Have submitted some work and even collected a couple rejections (via email). I suspect things will settle down soon. I think the first project I will work on is the children's story. But I need to get back to my novel. I hope I can be more disciplined this semester. My goal is to take little school work home so I can concentrate on writing (or at least publishing) at home. Maybe then I can write at night and/or in the mornings at work.

Ack! Even now I'm confused.

Back to school. Have written only a little in the past few weeks, trying to focus some of my energy on publishing. Did post some stories that are not really new, but new to the site.

Have been to the doctor and have run tests. Yippee.

New things starting. Trying to begin with some hope.

Finally finished reading The Ghostway. Was quite satisfying, but obvious I should not try to read more than one book at a time. Still working my way through Merton. Probably should give up, but everytime I started reading, I find myself drawn to his thoughts and I feel that I must finish the book. Am also reading Practical Gods by Carl Dennis. So far okay. My main reason for looking at it is that it won the most recent Pulitzer for poetry. I think it will be a good experience, though I think I like that last couple of Pulitzer winners a bit more so far.

Speaking of publishing, and I was a few moments ago, I thought that I might have more success and perhaps more satisfaction by looking at the web pages of some journals and maybe submit to some online places. This way I might be more likely to send work that seems to work for a particular publication. This is pretty long and tedious, though I do get to read a bit more this way. I also figured I could easily increase the amount of submissions I had going at any time, thus increasing my possibilities for publication. It has only been a few days. I have found how quickly one can get rejected. I submitted about six poems to an online journal late Friday and last night read of their non-acceptance. But I'll keep a happy thought.

Was asked this morning to read a poem at the division retreat this Friday. Not sure I have anything appropriate but will look. Maybe I'll write something new. We shall see.

Today is the last day in the Writing Center, and it will be a long one. I am working from 9 until 7 this evening. Have seen no one yet today, but many are signed up. Not thrilled.

Wrote a new poem, "Stillness and the Turtle," and posted it yesterday. Did not get online to do other changes to the site until this morning. Decided the temptation was not worth giving into and so read a little from the Thomas Merton book. This book is intriguing me, but I feel that I am spending too much time getting through it. I must resist that tyrany of the urgent. In grad school, I complained to one of my professors, Dr. Richard Tuerk, that it took me a whole month to read Moby Dick. His response was something along the lines of me being glad someday when I can spend a month reading a book.

I have been reading in the Merton book a section from his A Vow of Conversation and having some interesting thoughts about his struggle to live in a hermitage. In a way, it seems rather selfish. I certainly was accused of wanting to become a monk for selfish reasons. And maybe there is some truth to that. And yet, solitude is necessary if one wishes to commune with God, to be closer to God and to serve God by loving his creation.

Soon (August 19) I have to return to work. I am somewhat looking forward to it, especially since I am trying some new things. Part of me is not, mostly because I am not ready having not accomplished this summer what I would like. I think I had too many ambitions and expectations, but not the discipline to pull them off.

Wrote 500 words Monday night on the Max story. Not feeling good about it. Am I derivative? Am I telling a real story for people other than those who know me? All my concerns seem more important when I consider that it may be the only project I finish before school starts.

Just spent way too much time online working on my website. Should have been reading or writing. Is this what the modern writer does to procrastinate the real work of writing? Anyway, the most significant addition is a page for e-books.

Wondering if I should join some webrings. Don't know anything about html and they all talk about adding code to pages. Eek.

Should sleep. Probably be up a little longer.

Stayed at home today with the small kids while Tonya was in Farmersville trying to clean our tremendously filthy van. She was gone all day and says she did not complete the job. She did exhaust herself and come home with some injuries requiring my attention.

The kids drove me nuts today. I guess it is time to get back to talking to people who at least pretend to be listening.

Money is tight and we are not sure how to pay some of these bills. More of that usual fear.

Watched O Brother, Where Art Thou yesterday when I should have been writing or cleaning up the house. At least it was good enough to cover up some of my guilt. Much fun -- when the kids let us watch in peace.

I know other things have happened or been thought about, but I can't remember what they are. I guess I'll try to do a bit of work and see what happens.