A Man Of Clay

I'm starting the hunt for publishers and agents. Writing is the easy part.

Woody Allen said, "Those that write write, those who don't write teach writing and those that can't write teach physical education."

As a vagabond poet I've had very little truck with either. They travel in different circles or see me and recognize trouble.

I rewrote ALMOST A DEAD MAN from a 2016 version. Yesterday I found a very clean copy from 2017. In 2016 I was working in a metal shop. Bronze, copper, and steel in my blood. Those elements and more affected my brain along with my heroic drinking.

I've been doing nude modeling for Jock Ireland a clay sculpture teacher at the the New York Studio School.

An attendee asked, ""Are you still sculpting"

"No."

"Because I suck "

Jock graduated from university the same year as me

1974.

I wanted to say, "Everyone sucks, but the effort to not suck, however illusive opens our eyes to the opinion that sucking doesn't matter "

As a nude model I held my sand. We are simply humans on a dais. To be rendered by hands from slabs the clay to how the sculptor envisions us.

I end up looking Jabba the Hut's cousin.

That does suck.

Guess there's no Greece hero left in me.

I'm awaiting the B54 bus to Clinton Hill.

Cheers.