Literature, Perfection, and Then There's Me
I’ll come right out and say it, I love to write. A Charles Dickens I am not. My words on paper cannot compare to the eloquence of our classic favorites, yet, I still put down my thoughts in hopes someone will read. What comes from the bottom of my pen is purely expressed from my head. I write from my heart and what is on my mind. I guess you could say my writing technique is equal to Tommy Boy’s selling technique. Rather rough around the edges, and most definitely a grammatical error here and there. I have never been able to articulate a thought with finesse. I blurt out a thought and invariably have to explain what I meant in embarrassment. I says what I feel, and feel what I says. When I first began dating my lovely wife of 41 years, I remember, and so does she I might add, loving the color of her eyes. They are green and, in the light, sparkled and shined. In my usual speak before think, I got really close to her and said, “I love your eyes, they remind me of lizard ey...
