Getting older isn’t for sissies

21 12 2010

As you get older, you become more absorbed in yourself. You have to. Parts of your body start showing rust. Start to breakdown. I’m finding myself becoming increasingly paranoid. About my health. Its boring and useless. But its hard to stop falling to the ground, when your knee gives out on you. Of course its fine if you’re in church. I think it was Bette Davis who said that getting older isn’t for sissies.





Can’t Remember Her Name

21 12 2010

In the 1970s John Robert Columbo introduced what he called ‘found art’ or ‘found poetry’. What I have found is my own work. Old work. Some of which I have never put on a blog. Some of which I didn’t like at the time but with distant they now appeal to me. (The ones that still didn’t appeal I put back in the not-found-yet file. I think memories are like that too. Especially people. Especially the opposite sex (in my case). Maybe its getting just getting older. But I remember girls from my distant past. They are mere wisps of memory. A girl in Ottawa. That lived next door to my aunt and babysat her kids. While I was there. We talked. Must have been 14 or 15. We liked each other. And then my dad and I returned home. And she slipped back into the fog of time. Can’t remember her name. Or face. She had dark hair. May have been native. What I remember is that she was kind.  Found memories. Why do we have them?