Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

A Mystery on May Eighteenth…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Children,Depression and Hope,Jewish Themes,Life & Death,Marriage and Family — Bob at 9:48 pm on Friday, May 27, 2016

(Written Wednesday, May 19, 2016)

 

6 am

 

Another day.

 

Still here.

 

My lower back is frozen. I stretch my knees to my chest for a while. Body still works if I do what it requires to please it. You grow older, things fall apart.

 

More than just the sixty miles, returning to Illinois is more like: Out of the woods and into the town, than anything else.

 

I’m meeting with a man this morning who has invited me to read my poetry or stories to his Jewish Authors Club. Maybe fifty people will be there after he sends out his notice of my coming appearance. Maybe one hundred fifty.

 

The event is staged inside of a restaurant. Dishes will clink against each other as lunch is served, but that’s the situation such a setting offers. I can bring copies of my five books with me if I wish to do that. Perhaps I’ll sell some of them.

 

But don’t get my hopes up about selling many of them. I mean, who am I?

Famous?

 

No.

(Read on …)

Retired, Confused, I Sing Joy’s Song…by Robert M. Katzman

 

By Robert M. Katzman April 23, 2016

 

Retiring from owning a store

What is that?

Time now indivisible?

Never late and no closing early

No more seeking to please

No more checking the clock

No more damning bad days

Regimentation?

Disintegration

(Read on …)

The City is Littered With the Corpses of My Retail Life…by Robert M. Katzman

by Robert M. Katzman © April 10, 2016

 

Like discarded trash from today’s opened toys

I see the ghostly echo of my career

Sprinkled across the city like tarnished glitter

Tho’ they used to sparkle for me

 

Perhaps many people witness

The fast-forwarding of their lives

While still living them

Time relentlessly unfolding

Blank pages written by an unseen hand

 

Bob’s Newsstand: Hyde Park, Chicago 51st & Lake Park

1965-1985

Learning how to use a hammer at six took my life in strange directions

From building an insignificant 4 by 4-foot wooden shack to sell my newspapers

To a 112 by 20 foot-foot brick building spanning two decades

(Read on …)

Valentine to a Wounded Wife…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Life & Death,Love and Romance,Marriage and Family,My Own Personal Hell,subtle erotica — Bob at 11:50 am on Thursday, February 11, 2016

© February/12/2016

 

I see you sleeping in a darkened room

Dry lips slightly parted

Your Scandinavian cheekbones

Distinct as ski slopes

Your blonde hair dirty and lank

Your skin is pale

You wear no make-up

And to me you are so beautiful

(Read on …)

Post-Surgical Dispatches from Racine, Wisconsin…by Robert M. Katzman

January 10, 2016 (Sunday)

So, I am home alone, recuperating, with my dogs Betsy and Jasmine, who keep me warm in frigid Wisconsin. I can stand up and lie down, but no sitting or I’m in big trouble. Prostate surgery is not something to mess around with.

 

I discourage nice friends who live nearby from visiting, because the (unstated) aspects of recovery are difficult to deal with, and constant. About two weeks before most things are better. Burning pain is a real part of it. I look fine (ok, not gorgeous) and no one could tell something was wrong unless they lived with me for a day. Time moves v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y. The dogs wake me before sunrise, follow me around every damn minute, have to go outside endlessly and if I choose to rebel, they leave me a little message. The Dog Mafia.

 

(Read on …)

New Year’s Eve, Cancer and a Silent Night…by Robert M. Katzman

© December 30, 2015

I often say to my friends or people who ask me about the origins of my stories, that I never write fiction. I am regretting that commitment to the truth right now. But to change my conviction that some stories ought to be written down, doesn’t necessarily mean they are happy stories. But I believe that difficult stories can give a person who reads my story—this story—a greater appreciation of how they might choose to spend their time.

(Read on …)

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