Author: kenn

author. developer. illustrator. Renaissance man.

2009 musing

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I thought I’d take a break from novel writing to jot down nine random bits of wisdom to pass along to my amazingly intelligent readers who may very well scoff at the lack of wisdom that these nuggets actually contain. And yes, many of these have both surface and layered meaning…

  1. Novel writing is hard work and challenging to one’s latent attention deficit disorder.
  2. Always make sure the that top is on before shaking vigorously.
  3. Infants cry to build up strength in their lungs. Lungs are important for things like… breathing.
  4. Adults cry to express or release an emotion – which also builds up strength… to move forward.
  5. Alone does not mean lonely.
  6. Kenny G is NOT jazz!!*
  7. Pennies add up to thousands of dollars over time and committment.
  8. Change starts with your personal action and not an Obama t-shirt, bumper sticker, or catch phrase.
  9. communication + trust = healthy relationship

*If you disagree, please listen to artists such as Nina Simone, John Coltrane, Wynton Marsalis, Cassandra Wilson, Herbie Hancock, Freddie Hubbard, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, or Jimmy Smith.

kick rocks, 2008

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2008 has been a year of revolution for me. I don’t think I have experienced as much clarity of life as I have this year. This December 31, 2008, I am reflective in a myriad of ways. Celebratory while sad, reminiscent while looking ahead, mournful while hopeful, and excited while nervous.

I won’t join the mass bloggers making top 10 lists and whatnot. What I will do is say thank you to all of you who have seen some obscure reason to read my words and thoughts in 2008. I am deeply appreciative for each and every one of you. I hope that something that I shared was as encouraging to you as your participation (both public and private) was to me.

I have grown immensely as a man and as a father. I have made many mistakes and learned a lot about relationships – healthy and otherwise. I have seen hello almost as much as I have dreaded goodbye. I have witnessed a revolution as I have been given to want to be a part of that revolution.

2009 looms with so much hope and the unexpected as many of my friends and family and fellow Americans are jobless or near homeless. I join you in petitioning God to not forget us. I join you in thankfulness. I join you in glaring hope.

Kick rocks, 2008.

Welcome, 2009.

stark statements

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“Yesterday, I got hit by a bus.”

That statement has such an impact (no pun intended) to the reader because he or she immediately thinks of death and carnage and higher insurance rates. Yesterday, I discovered that you can get hit by a bus and not die or get hurt. You can get hit by a bus and your car not be totaled. You can get hit by a bus and the mass of police that show up can actually be nice to you. You can get hit by a bus and love life and God all the more in consideration of all that didn’t happen.

By the way, the statement is not just a statement. Yesterday, I did get hit by a bus.

50,000 words or somewhere thereabout

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My first NaNoWriMo comes to a close today. I feel like I should have some kind of an article to commemorate the experience – the long hours of staring at the same sentence, the sleepless nights, the writer’s block. Come to think of it – I do. I have a great start to an exciting novel. Notice I said start.

walking in the rain

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The optimistic side of me wanted to sing the words “walking in the rain” to the tune of “Singing in the Rain” as I walked home this evening. All I could utter (in the spirit of Charlie Brown) was, “Rats!”

A long, seeming unproductive and frustrating workday coupled with rain and Atlanta traffic in the rain should have been enough. Actually it was enough. Enough for me to consider the haven that home would be once I got there to exhale and shower and enjoy a warm meal. It should have been enough. My pissed off car didn’t think so.

This evening as I waited in a long line of cars at a light for 30+ minutes because some fool (or fools) didn’t want to heed driving more careful in the rain, my beloved car decided to garner for attention.

Steam in the front.

“Maybe that’s from the rain?”

More steam in the front.

“Maybe the exhaust from the car in front of me?”

Loud POP! Temperature gauge goes red. Smoke or steam or…

“Rats!”

Several more miles to go before home but I safely park my car in a lot and walk the rest of the way home. In the rain.

Now I’m home and I’m going to exhale, shower, enjoy that meal, and then ride my bike back to my car in a couple of hours to see if all can be restored… or at least hauled home. Rats!

seven eight nine

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Seven eight nine, this that and the third
The dog ate my homework, eight subjects and no verb
The cart is pulling the horse and other musings so absurd
Am I being too abstract or just layering the fact that I’m perturbed?

Why do today what you can put off tomorrow?
Why feel better now, when in sorrow you can wallow?
If Jesus walks on water again then maybe you will follow
If Nietzsche lives next door to you, my faith I’ll let you borrow

I can’t count on my fingers, I’ve got more sense than that
I can’t count on my money, it all goes to buy more fat
What was that I said about being too abstract?
Seven eight nine and other punchlines, does this verse make me look fat?

a moment of silence

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My flag is at half mast
I ripped my garment for thee
My ashen face is downcast
And several doves have been released

Sixty seconds to respect
Much less seconds to be born
And a lifetime to reflect
On life for which to mourn

The bells, they toll for thee
And the rain allays the ground
The earth invites you back
From whence you first were found

My flag is still at half mast
It’s due my time to grieve
While not preventing living.
A moment of silence for thee.

oxygen

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Here again I’m emancipated from the reaches and auspices of death
As the fragrance and significance of you fills my lungs,
And I’m lucid
Now.

I can’t recall what it was like before I inhaled this colorless element of you.
Was I gasping, near collapsing, falling to earth while grasping
For hope
Then?

How could they have taken you for granted you when there could be no stand-in?
Yes, so many thrived on the presence and mere essence of you
Yet you were invisible and all the while
There.

I sigh to expel all that is not you just before deeply inhaling again
For I and my capillaries and all were weary while you tarried
Some time ago
But now
You’re
Here.