After the rain, I took my fishing pole over to the large pothole around the corner and stood in the street and sank my line. Someone yelled, they biting? The next person honked. It’s a sport of the mind, puddle fishing, somehow lends one to think cosmically. The puddle as space and the pole as time. Or maybe entropy, which could be time? The uneven sidewalk between my house and my neighbor’s, because of a large tree, pools rainwater, especially in spring. The birds, mostly robins, drop down to drink of it and the kids like to jump in it and dog walkers get annoyed with it, but it’s a token of wild. I plan on purchasing a quality umbrella. I’d like to get rid of my refrigerator too and do without one. I bought a notebook and pen, but I’m refusing to start a journal. What could I say about my days? They rattle, they think like dropped plates? Actually my days are all right, I read a lot, go on long walks on the weekends. And I should probably start a journal. And begin with an entry like: If the laws of physics are the same going in reverse in time as going forward in time, as the physicists say, and if there is a loving god, would god love us both going forward and backward in time? And would the leaves, tiring of green, after the yellow autumnal search, turn astronaut and climb up the cosmic tree?
Brilliant to go fishing in a pot hole inspiring thoughts about the cosmos. I always liked looking at puddles and the way street lights looked like lasers into the ground.
A journal like a newspaper seems so rare, but so necessary today, to preserve handwriting! and all its curves!!
I like this prose style you occasionally experiment with from time to time.
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Haha. I’m really taking to pothole fishing. We’ve got some word class potholes around here. I’m still figuring out more about this prose. Are you familiar with this documentary, Just a Bit Outside?
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I just looked up JUST A BIT OUTSIDE. Thanks for mentioning it. They discussed it a bit the other day on the Brewers TV broadcast if I remember right. I have an older video summary of that 82 season, but this one sounds even better. I definitely will be buying it. Thanks Bob.
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They biting?
Of course they are. 🐟
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Haha. Yes!! We’ve got just great pothole sites here for fishing. I think the fish have migrated from Lake Erie to the potholes.
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😁
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wonderful ruminations, Bob;; keep on walking esp if they produce lines like this: ”my days ..,they rattle, they think like dropped plates’ wow!!!
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Thanks John! I’m still working on this prose. So your comment is encouraging.
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it’s going to turn out good, Bob, I know 🙂
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Thanks!!
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Oh, start that journal, it’s so good for your writing or any other art you make. Every morning a page or two of whatever muck is clogging your brain. If you don’t show it to anyone you’re free to write anything.
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Thanks. That’s an excellent point. To have a place to just pour out your thoughts and not worry about showing anyone. I think I’ll start that journal.
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Love all of this…especially “What could I say about my days? They rattle, they think like dropped plates?” Super!
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Thanks Rajani! I’m still trying to figure out this prose style. But so far it seems fun to write.
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I believe its a subtle means to endear one who can return profits from a good ok fashioned ‘pothole’. Great story
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Haha. Thanks Tim. I think pothole fishing may catch on on a sport. Dare I say, the next summer Olympics? 😂
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I like how you’ve ventured into more of a narrative style with this post. It has the sharp, vibrant imagery that you craft really well. The value of fishing, searching. And perhaps finding meaning in the search, because asking those questions can cause our minds to expand. 🌞
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Thanks Dave! I’m still feel like a rookie writing prose. But I’m starting to like it.
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Thought provoking questions and beautiful writing.
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Thanks Michele. Very much appreciated!
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You’re very welcome, Bob.
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Ah, potholes . . . loved by birds and tire manufacturers! Great post!
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Haha. Thanks Diana. Yes, definitely loved by tire manufacturers!
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“They think like dropped plates” jumped out at me–fantastic line. What a wonderful stream-of-consciousness narrative. Profound, light-hearted and full of unique imagery.
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Thanks! I’ve been experimenting with the prose-poem form.
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