Some Days You’re The Microdose
I’m way behind in most everything in life it seems, including updating this blog. Some days you microdose life, and some days it microdoses you.
Being a published writer, I can never say my life is bad, because that isn’t true. As a writer, life has never been better for me. But the last 10 days have brought some unexpected bills, some new challenges, and dreaded car breakdowns. Right now my car is on the side of the road in Clarkston, MI with a bad alternator. I’m in Toledo working, and my truck is in Pioneer, OH. Somehow, I gotta get my truck, rent a car dolly from U Haul, and go get my car home. Then, we’ll get the alternator swapped and pretend like we’re back to even.
I made $320 as a writer in the month of May. Sometimes a shoestring budget runs out of strings to tie together, and the last two weeks have been full, sun up to sun down, of working here and there, chasing the dopamine boost of positive numbers in my bank account, and failing at it.
I’m not terribly stressed. Not about this. The one great hole card you get to carry forever if you survive homelessness, is that you learn not to sweat any of the big, bad stuff too much, because it’s probably not going to be anywhere as bad as the things you’ve already lived through.
And hope is on the horizon. I got to gig one night recently as an extra in the stagehands union in Toledo, and I’m hoping to get called some more when they need an extra body loading in and out touring shows. And I’ve got the old standby of driving for Lyft, which makes me money, but not a lot. And I’ve been looking at possible employment for the summer. Maybe in a factory. Maybe in a dispensary, and although I’d really like to never have a time clock to punch again, I also can’t let myself be the type to rely on the generosity of the universe to provide, no matter how many good deeds I’ve forgotten.
I wanted to write this as a way to let everyone know that I’m ok, but life is a little sideways at the moment, so if these blogs, my emails, messages, and writer things seem slow to materialize for a bit, this is why. My energy is consumed by untangling this sling my ass is currently in.
And if you’ve got any sway with the universe, maybe let her know I could use a break.
Since we missed some newsletters and blog posts, here’s a new poem to make up for it. When I’m too busy working, the other writing gets really hard to get to, but I’m grateful, the poetry writing almost never leaves me.
A rare two-parter. Hope you like it.
How Far is Heaven?
laying nearly naked
in the overgrown grass
of an unkempt meadow
I curse not having a blanket
as bugs crawl
over my legs
and interrupt my sky gazing
there are few things
more beautiful than
a blue sky on a warm day
when clouds roll by
like a fluffy merry-go-round
of delight for our eyes
this moment in time
is so full of good
that I forget
all the times
my bank account was negative
I forget all
the years I spent
locked inside the four walls
of paycheck prisons called factories
I momentarily give up remembering
the pain
of all my childhood daydreams
being murdered
by this thing we call life
the sun is so warm
and cozy on my bare skin
that I give up
keeping the beetles and ants
off of me
and I stare into space
through window shade sunglasses
and wonder
how much longer
how much stronger
and really
just how far is Heaven?
Part 2
One Day Longer. One Day Stronger.
later
while mostly clothed
on a restless midnight walk
down a nighttime country road
under a
black and white night sky
my thoughts ran erratic
crashing about philosophical things
it has no business
interfering with
and I got lost in my head
the longer you starve
the stronger the hunger
thirst will drive you blind
but the quest for water
will push you
to further despair
need doesn’t always diminish
the longer you go without/
love doesn’t die
when lovers leave
love doesn’t die
until you do
it just sits withering
and unwatered
and even
new love
can only do so much
with shriveled roots
our dreams never really die
they just sit in the attics
and storage units of our hearts
we see them once or
twice a year
during spring cleaning
and again
when we put our holiday decorations out
on the front lawns
of or youth every December
our dreams never really die
and even if things
like life and capitalism
get in the way of them
we have to do something
about them
or they’ll fester in
the dark places
we avoid looking in
until we’re forced
to see them one more time
as we unpack our lives
and retire to hospice care
how far is Heaven?
no one living knows
but I can tell you from experience
it has always been closer
than we thought
but you have to
go through hell to get there
©️Dan Denton 2024
My reading has slowed to a trickle. But no matter how busy I am, I’m always reading something. This book right here from Roadside Press is one of the best, most dangerous types of books someone like me will ever find. It’s like a biography written by dozens of Corso’s friends, colleagues, and those that have studied him. I’ve learned so much from this book that it’s become another semester in my back alley education of literature, and Corso has moved up to the top tiers of my favorite artists.
Got to read poems with poet/musician Drew Coomer and musician Todd Elson last week. Pictured with us is Gathering Volumes Bookstore owner Denise Phillips. Look how lucky I am.
Me signing a book at Gathering Volumes bookstore last Sunday. Look how lucky I am.
Paid some union dues to work in lighting tear down with IATSE (International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees) one night. look how lucky I am. (Ps. That’s my tattoo in honor of Roque Dalton’s poem ‘Like You.’)
Love,
Dan