week thirty-six: bluebird (special post)

It's the holiday season and I've been incredibly busy. That's my excuse. My head's been in a lot of other places and I needed to take the week off. So, there will not be a new story this week. However, I wouldn't be satisfied with leaving a gap in the weeks, so I looked for a compromise and managed to find something I think we can all appreciate.

Over these last thirty-five weeks, I've been pouring myself out to you by showing what goes on in my dark, twisted, yet sometimes delightful mind. You've probably learned more about the real WA Ross through reading my material than you would actually meeting me. There have been some low points on Story a Week, but there's also been some highlights that I will keep, treasure, and be proud of forever. The thing I most pride myself in is you; the people who come here and set aside their time to read what I've written. I treasure you. I'm proud that you think my work is worth your time. And I hope that you'll keep reading as long as I keep writing. It means a lot to me. It really does.

I've shown you the original things I've written, but I've barely shared the writings that inspire me. I haven't showed you the things that have brought me to where I am. I could never show you everything, but I can give you a glimpse.

One of my favorite poets is a man named Charles Bukowski; I wouldn't be surprised if you've heard of him. He wrote a poem called "Bluebird" and it changed me forever. I don't have quite the colored history that Bukowksi has, but, like him, everyone has a 'bluebird' in their heart. Ever since reading this poem, I've been determined to let mine out. Story a Week is a huge part of that. You'll understand what I mean when you read the poem.

Charles Bukowski
"Bluebird"

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Here is a YouTube video with a recording of "Bluebird." This clip is actually how I came across the poem. It's a great reading and I highly recommend it.