Caution. If you can’t tell at first glance, this is a somewhat lengthy post. I am motivated and inspired and on a writing roll. Are you on a reading roll?

Roll…roll…“Roll Over Beethoven.”

I take for granted that in the far-flung world of WordPress bloggers, readers, techno-gurus, sophistocrats, hangers-up, hangers-on, Automagicians, and oh so smart Mullengroupies, I am somewhat revered and respected. You could say I rank with the most venerable of world wide WordPressers. I am over thirty, my hairline, and hair are fast disappearing, and over my long life I have acquired the “wisdom of the ages.” I’m bonafide and qualified.

The preceding paragraph was brought to you by the word venerable, the Dictionary.com word of the day. The next time you’re out and about, pick up a copy of Venus, the venerable grizzled old man’s guide to gentlemen’s literature. See, I used the word of the day again – that makes three times. My new goal is to use the word of the day at least once in every post I write.

Today is a landmark day in the world history of me. I finally started my “Great American Novel.” It’ll be good; very, very good. I can make stuff up that some people find interesting or entertaining. I know I can create stories for short periods of time, but I’m not entirely convinced I can sustain it long enough to create a book.

The book tells the story of Frank – a sorta-semi-auto-biopornagrapical collection of diary entries. If the jumbled up, made up word I just created amuses you, Great! If it doesn’t, Great! Playing with words is an addiction – it’s my high. It’s my morphine, Jean. It started around 1984. I attended a writer’s workshop presented by the University of Maryland University College at Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, Japan. A couple of sessions concerned studying and writing creative non-fiction. This was my first introduction to the seductive opium that is Tom Wolfe. At first, it was just experimenting, then recreational, then I was hooked.

I might start publishing short excerpts here on my blog – kinda online auditioning to get some reader feedback.

So I lied. It really isn’t very long. When I started though, I intended to include some other stuff that didn’t make the final cut.

Pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire…. Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It’s real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish. Like you’ve suddenly become an idiot. There’s no cure for it unless you know somebody who understands how you feel, and knows how to help. ~Charles Bukowski