Lately, I've been digging through my older writing, looking for fresh idea approaches from older works of mine. Writers tend to do this at times. A couple of weeks ago, I came across some of my older diaries, which are both in book and cassette recordings form, that I kept while living in the state of Indiana from November, 1993 to August, 1994.Some of my older diary entries ended up becoming short prose poems which I read aloud at various coffee clutches in Indiana and elsewhere in the United States several years later. Today, dear readers, I'd like to present to you one of these entries...
Personal Diary Entry, January 19, 1994, 9:01 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, Attica, Indiana, USA
I’m afraid to call her. Left a message for her to call me, but I think it’s all too much and the gameball is snapped, thrown and whammo! The player has missed the field goal three times, but does he give up?
Well, no! Of course not!
But he’s disappointed and angry and wonders if he’ll ever make it count?
The determination is there. It has been all along, but the fear and savvy that goes with it, hand-in-hand and you have to hang tough or at least that is what the coach tells you.
But you keep mulling it over in your mind. Do I take another gamble? What if I do it and I get the same results?
The prize is definitely tremendous, but is it worth the loneliness of not knowing anything or knowing at least something that may never come to past?
The answer is of course, yes! I will rock again. I will shake again and I will get that field goal.
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