It is officially July 4th as of 18 minutes ago. Happy Birthday America. I guess I should write about what is right or wrong with America or something about the flag or apple pie or Chevrolet now that America officially owns Chevrolet, but I’m not going to. I want to write about my Tiki Man. He stands tall with his head on fire just off my front porch.
He has a strange face that looks stolen from a totem pole or the Polynesian Cultural Center or perhaps from Survivor.
Patrick just got home and had a package of “Whistly Petes” fireworks. He said, “found out you can make a pretty good bomb with them.” Ah, the joys of summer and the rocket’s red glare of birthday celebrations.
I pulled out my Brian Doyle book last night as I was fighting the need for sleep. I wanted one more brain snack before I crashed. He is one of my favorite essayists, and because of him, whenever I try to write a blog entry, I think it has to be polished and semi-perfect. That’s why I write so infrequently. Last night’s chapter was just stuff he saw as he and his son walked about. No hidden meanings, no layered approach, no adherence to rules–even the adherence to the no-rule rule–just a snapshot of what he saw.
It helped me relax about blogging. Reminded me of what I tell my students. First, to write just to write to get stuff out of the brain and on paper so you can poke it and see what it does. Second, to not be worried about what you write, because no one reads this stuff anyway.
So there you have it. First draft, no Word workout, and then dropped into Blogger, just a brain dump, like blowing the nose.
So again, happy birthday America, and may my tiki man never lose his flickering orange head.
But wait. It’s raining! How cool is that, rain sprinkling through the Japanese Maple at 12:41 am. Makes me want to sleep out in the backyard in a light tent and a warm pillow. Maybe I will just dream the rest.
