I don’t need your money man; I’m going to be a writer.

Dear People,

I don’t need your money man; I’m going to be a writer.

I don’t know why the grammar-checker loves semicolons so much.

I am not a writer at all, I am a thirty-two year old Artist who works as a teacher. Once in a while I drink old coffee and write, and publish these items from my life, artifacts gleaned from those precious hours while the boy naps, on the page you read now.

And in that way, they will never say, that I didn’t produce something every day. Naturally I am inclined to paint, but periods of domestic upheaval it is difficult to paint, and we have just moved in a week ago. My lovely wife loves to read this but would rather I do laundry.

Today I went swimming with the boy, at the pool of an apartment complex across the street. I say, “kick boy!” and he kicks, and I say “arms too!” and his arms start flapping, and everything is right in the world. And we have matching swim suits. I gave him some crackers and he almost slept in the grass by the pool.

My lovely wife is at work, this is a new thing for us, she works fool time days. So it’s just the Boy and I.

I don’t work summer, because, you know, I’m a teacher.

I don’t have a contract; so I might as well say I WAS a teacher. I have no offers and no prospects, which provides me with a certain amount of anxiety in the form of a tight knot in my back.

When asked why I started teaching and I tell them that I needed dental coverage. Sometimes, I tell them, I am actually a writer doing research for a book about Teachers. I never said I got into it because I was passionate about teaching, any more than I became a baker because I was passionate about bagels.

In each case there are days when you burn a few.
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I will try hard to write more often. So stay tuned and we will see if the boy can swim, if the laundry gets done and what will happen to the knot of tension that haunts me?

Truly Yours,

Kleine Zwemmen
Father, Husband, Artist, Baker, Teacher and sometimes Writer.