for the last couple of months its just been
one physical issue after the next and most
of them have involved a new order of pain
hopefully im on the mend now
but the old hoodooman have been pondering
while laying flat on my back
getting older and mortality and all that
colleague at the job say when you get our age, art
its just patch patch patch patch
feel like thats what i been doing - patching
the old machinery up with spit and bailing wire
and my doctor threatening blood pressure pills
so ive decided to use this moment to get my act together
so many parts of my body been cut and blasted lately
i feel like im starting over from scratch
since ive got to go thru this rehabilitation thing anyway
i might as well try to get the old body in shape
i have already cut out salt and frenchfries
(god i cant imagine watermelon w/o salt)
plan to do the gym thing daily (more or less)
already lost 7 pounds just on calorie intake alone
if this latest health issue backs up some ima buckle down
and even if it dont ima buckle down anyway
i have felt quite decrepit these last couple of months
feel like frankensteins monster lurching about
all i need is a couple of knobs on my neck
this will never do, if i let myself go now what happens
when im really old, and have to endure what my mama
and bonnies parents be enduring everyday
i dont have that much to say in this post
but havent posted in a week or so
when just sitting at the sacred desk is painful
you cut your desk time down to the essential
but i figure i got to get back in the game
so ima do this no post post
just to kinda loosen up maybe, see if i can
start working thru the pain
this getting older is a major attitude adjustment
but it cause me to think about my life
my trials and tribulations
and im still counting my blessings
looking back ive lived a very good life and i
got no complaints, i whine a lot about getting no respect
what writer dont, but i love being a writer
and for all it has cost me over the years i love the literary life
ive lived a life beyond my wildest
dreams as a child (or adult)
i feel like that old blues classic - going down slow
ive had my fun if i dont ever get well no more
dont get me wrong, the game aint over
and damn if ima roll over and play dead
im just trying to adjust for whatever time i got left
get a little more serious about my projects
and living life to its fullest
i vaguely remember tecumsehs death song
something along the lines of let me make sure
i do all i been planning to do in life
make sure i live out my best and greatest dreams
so when its time to go im not kicking and whining
wait a minute, i meant to do this and i meant to do that
at the moment just sitting at the sacred desk
is an exercise in pain but im hoping thru
physical therapy and meditation i can compartmentalize it
like i do all the other tribulations that try to keep me
from working
ive had a lot to say here in rootsblog actually
about jesse in florida and developments in the sudan
and haiti, about some hoodoo issues i want to explore
etc etc etc
but when working is painful and priority got to be assigned
its going to be assigned to novelwork, schoolwork
and various mentoring obligations
i think what i like most about being a writer is
that it entails leaving a legacy that hopefully
will be of some use to humanity
i need another 20 good work years (at least)
and i will be satisfied that my seeds
will have been planted in properly fertilized ground
but even if i check out tomorrow i think ive done okay
ive done a pretty good job of manifesting my vision
though it may not be apparent to you yet i hope the
generations will appreciate what ive done
i think one of a writers worst nightmares is dying
or being incapacitated, in the middle of a major project
when you start a major project
you know its going to take years to make it happen
and when youve already invested say 10 years into it
and feel like all you need is another 5 or so
its a constant negotiation w/the gods
just let me finish rest for the weary god
then we will talk about maybe the
hoodoo book of flowers
buddy of mine, doris jean austin, once said:
every book finished makes it easier to die
im already one of the slowest writers ever been
and recent damage has apparently reduced my
already meager productivity
i cant accept that, ima have to work thru this
do my physical therapy, kick up my meditation
make appropriate lifestyle changes, you know the drill
maybe tomorrow i will be focused enuf to start
doing real posts again - till then im hanging tough
word by rickydoc
de rootdoctor
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