Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Daily Fess

The Daily Fess.


Ever since Mr. Sullivan's creative writing class in 1967 I have been enthralled with stringing words together. As a green freshman on the first day of class I was a bit perplexed when he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a match, a penny and a walnut and ordered that we write 250 words on the trio. I was awed even more the next day when my paper was returned with a giant crimson A atop.


It was at that exact moment in time that I completely understood motivation and choice. I could sit in algebra all day wearing a tight hypotenuse, or concoct incredible stories rewarded by the sweet ringing sound from the bell shaped curve. I took the easy way out despite all the warnings. I figured if I could determine my bating average, that would get me through long enough to get a baseball scholarship and play MLB, at which time I would simply hire an accountant to handle the truckloads of money delivered on a daily basis. Who needed geometry for that, or history, civics, Spanish, biology or chemistry?


Fast forward 44 years. No trucks. No pension. No Hall of Fame. No accountant. Nada.


Only a deep appreciation of the writers craft. And that is the confessional du jour, the Daily Fess. I write, in the form of the blog, to stay with it. To practice, to hone, to record, and maybe, just maybe, as a result of putting thoughts to page, reinforce good ideas, explore the obscure, detect commonalities, illuminate atrocities, dispel myths, remind, rediscover, reiterate and refresh. Accordingly, this is mostly for me, writing therapy 101. I also do it to share. There might be a few things that inspire. That motivate, educate, cheer or probe. I believe that good health and happiness are important and the ways that I have found to attract them possibly worth sharing. It only takes about an hour a day, and it's free. If there is an entertainment factor in the algorithm, all the cooler.


More: If at times it sounds preachy, I apologize. You already know all this stuff, I am simply bending the strings a little further to escape the fuzz-box. Playing the notes a little faster to test comprehension and life appreciation. It is, as Commander Collins noted, an experiment of one. I am the N-man. Coo-coo-cachoo.


So please VBA, forgive the 90% gibberish, it is just my apocryphal way of trying to make sense of a world in chaotic, dynamic flux, where change is the only constant and paradoxically the only solution. I believe that everything we do to keep ourselves and our neighbors fit, healthy and happy has extraordinary long-term value.


And that is why I do this every day. I may be nuts, but I believe this match has value, maybe even more than it did in 1967.


Thank you Mr. Sullivan.


Doctors don't talk about weight?

THIS is motivational?


Good grief.


Cartoon from here.

Junior prepares to blow out nine candles last night.

7 comments:

FW said...

Was there a cake under that blaze? Soooo many candles! (I know it's the low light in the room....)

KML5 said...

Yeah, that was the icing, only nine!!!

FW said...

In Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, he recalled a moment as a college professor when one of his students had severe writer's block. She broke through with his advice to focus on a single brick of a campus building. Like the writer's version of the traveler's single step, I suppose.

KML5 said...

You know that Z&MM is one of my all-time faves, no? Did your read Lila? Beauty in simplicity.

FW said...

Didn't know that. I'll check out Lila from SPL. Concise summary on Pirsig and his works in Wikipedia.

ej said...

Robert Pirsig's father, Maynard Pirsig, was my near 80 or more year old criminal law professor in law school. sharp as a tack with round wire-rimmed glasses. Maynard was once dean of the U of MN law school and a former MN Supreme Court judge. what a character. He had this one factual scenario that he used that I always remember (I'm sure I won't get it quite right and won't even try to recount his story telling) on the issue of theft -- two youngsters on first date walk to the sidewalk from the girl's house; girl thinks its her date's parked car and gets in; boy gets behind wheel with key already in the ignition figuring its his date's car...

KML5 said...

Great story. I read Lila while touring the capitols of Europe by train Christmas week of 1992. Distinctly remember journaling (pre-Blog): Chapter 14: Salt Castle Salzberg mirrors selfhood value from a frozen river.

Was a fun time.