I have been dreaming the same dream since I was very young. A group of large barrels are suspended above the ocean and are supported with large ropes. There is an above rope and a below rope portion to this rigging along the waterline. The creatures who live here are Hobbit-like in size and temperament and can travel around the barrels by walking on the suspension ropes. The barrels are far enough above the sea so that seeing what they are walking above is quite difficult. There is a kind of egalitarian government that is quietly agreed upon. No one gets hurt or has problems with one another. The seasons change and weather happens, but the many are quite happy just being left alone to eat the bounty of the water below. How they got there is a matter for conjecture. No one knows for sure what the true history is or is to be passed down. I would think that aircraft would be spotted if this were a tale told in the modern sense, but maybe as an allegory would be best. I know of no better way than to just write and to see what comes out. Nonsense verbs are part of the sing song way they speak. Many a small person would love to live here among the barrels. We shall see what we can let fly.

I am going to write for 12 minutes no matter what comes out of my head. No editing allowed. I want to be a writer and I don’t have the “or else” about the subject. I can’t really type, I am a bit too scatter-brained, and I have realized that I am not a leader, but a follower. So, here goes with the diatribe. If I really matter to people then my life has meaning, or not. I should be the only voice I need to hear in my head, but I hear nothing but noise. Being depressed is no way to go through life. Did I make a mistake retiring? Did I make a mistake caring one iota what people thought about me? Do I need to take another drink, second one in my life? Only time will tell, with a little effort that is. This format is fun but unnerving cuz ya don’t whose gonna read it. I need to keep writing, no matter what comes out so here goes. I am proud of my royal heritage, southern heritage, Patriot heritage, and the fact that I am not like either of my parents. The book I write will be something like Angela’s Ashes, but my own upbringing instead. I just finished reading Writing Down the Bones b Natalie Goldberg and now I’m reading Spooky Art by Norman Mailer. I was could have been killed by John Wayne Gacey when I was about 13. We got within 10 feet of each other and I ran out of the store just because of the way the evil bastard looked through me. 5 years later he was on TV after getting arrested. I still have not had the nerve to read a book about him. My mother was a violent, alcoholic, career-teacher, single parent. She was mean as a snake and died from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. I may outlive her!

I have about a month to go before my class starts. I need to do timed writing practice sessions before I show up to try and learn to write and write well. I have been told that I write well, but have always spurned or ignored what I had been told. I have wanted to write since I read A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway back when I was 26, so over half a lifetime ago with no real follow up. I have taken only a few writing courses over the years. We will see what we can do in a classroom environment. I am looking forward to having Theo Nestor and Scott Driscoll for teachers. I should write this up on MS Word first.

I think the only think I do well is genealogy. I have worked on my family tree for most of my adult life. I have done family trees for people and have even earned a little money doing that. I have had charts made, done DNA tests, joined lineage societies, broken through brick walls, and delighted in the activity itself.