Tuesday, October 25, 2016
a sure cure for envy
used to be i'd want a famous name, a beautiful wife, a mansion in the poconos, and i'd feel bad. where was my drive? my ambition? my workaholic ethic? no good, i never got past the first attempt at immortality, the leap where i fell between shadows. and now what? older i am a little wiser.
that famous name, having to hide out on a desert island to get a bit of privacy. damn, another photographer drops out of a palm tree. and the beautiful wife, what a bathroom of bottles and bars of soaps she needs. and as she grows old, she knows it. she complains, men always get to look handsome. as for the mansion in the mountains, well, i think of roofs gone leaky, pipes rusted, the window glass slowly slipping downward.
and so, when this item floated up from my possessions as i packed for winter, closing up the lookout, i had to smile at myself. better to remember what i've enjoyed than dwell on what i never did. written on a mechanical typewriter, it bears a day but no age. at least i had the pizzaz to praise. click on a page to enlarge it.